Harms done by us and to us

A close reading of the first verse of my song, Confession

For what we’ve done and
have left undone
in thought, word, and deed.
For harms we have committed,
for harms we have received.
Mercy, pardon
goodness restored,
our lives evermore
made whole by redemption.

Photo by Susan Wilkinson on Unsplash

I’ve had trauma on my mind lately, having just finished a teaching job that blindsided me with upsetting experiences. The job was my first encounter with the textbook definition of a toxic workplace. I would have been happy to live life understanding this exclusively in theory- but, yay! Now I can add an experiential understanding to my resume of life.

Now it’s all over, but it’s not all OK; this is the familiar trajectory of healing. We can be flooded with relief when a traumatic experience ends, but healing follows a different timeline. Accordingly, a lament persists at my heart for the harm that we are forced to endure at the hands of others, because harm is not easily undone. Nor do we always have a choice about it entering our lives. “In this world you will have trouble,” Jesus says in John 16:33, “but take heart, I have overcome the world.” Trouble is guaranteed; it is a poignant reality of sin.

In writing the song Confession, which I introduced in my last post, one of my intentions was to have a way to lyrically express the ancient confession, “Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done and by what we have left undone.” Vital to an understanding of sin is that it is not just the things that we do but also the good that we fail to do. This is pivotal.

One of my other main intentions was to express a posture of repentance that both laments our own wrongdoing and laments that wrong done to us, and that’s what I’ve sought to do in the song’s verse that started this post:

For what we’ve done and
have left undone
in thought, word, and deed.
For harms we have committed,
for harms we have received.
Mercy, pardon
goodness restored,
our lives evermore
made whole by redemption.

As I look back on my faith’s formative years, I can easily recall understanding the need to be sorry for doing wrong, but I don’t recall the permission to lament the wrong done to me. Or the wrong at work in the world at large. My tradition maintained a strong focus on sin from an individual perspective, but the effects of outside forces and systems didn’t often come into play because personal responsibility was primary. I still hold to a measure of personal responsibility, but in my lament over sin, I intentionally incorporate the aspect of hurt Jesus talked about in John. This world is full of trouble; we can’t avoid it. We will be hurt by it.

Also, noticeably absent from Confession is the word “sin.” I haven’t eliminated sin from my vocabulary, but it’s such a big (and loaded) word that its meaning can be easily obstructed by past associations, misunderstandings, or traumas. I chose to use the word “harm” instead of sin, because its connotation is narrower. Being harmed and causing harm both mean that hurt has occurred. And when we are hurt, we need healing.

That healing is what the last four lines of the song’s verse seek to express. For both our own poor choices and the hurt we endure, Jesus’ goodness is enough to restore. He reorients our hearts to himself. He binds up what is broken. He promises he won’t further batter the wounded, “a bruised reed he will not break.”¹ And we are not just restored to live without guilt, we’re restored to live a full life, “I have come so that they may have life and have it abundantly.”²

And that’s the story behind Confession’s first verse. Next week, I’ll dive into verse two. Also, the melody is forthcoming. I just haven’t figured out how to communicate it yet!

1. Matthew 12:20

2. John 10:10