Today I Begin Again
By Shery Abdelmalak
To me, this phrase is repentance. It is a show of mistakes made but I’ll try again today. It is to not be overcome by despair, but to try again, and to try harder.
But these are not my words. These were the words of St Anthony the Great. St Anthony did not use this phrase in this same way I find comfort in despair.
Quite the contrary. St Anthony would spend his days in prayer and fighting demons in a way I could never imagine. Yet, he would start his day with the phrase, today I begin again.
St Anthony accomplished leaps and bounds of spirituality beyond all comprehension, but his mentality was set on each new day. St Paul made this clear to the Colossians when he likened wisdom to the time well spent; “Walk in wisdom toward those who are outside, redeeming the time.” – Colossians 4:5.
When I look back on my most spiritual days. Days spent in church. Days spent in communion with others. Days spent in service. If only I could be the servant of the Lord I once was. But then there were days of failure, days of laziness, weeks of prayer in church alone but never bringing the essence of prayer back home with me. Does that make me a hypocrite? If I could not replicate the same prayer at home that I do in church, am I like the Pharisee that prayed at the top of his lungs in one breath, and in the next looked down upon the tax collector beside him?
These are the thoughts that compound when I come to pray. When I feel like I can’t pray because it’s not the same as before. In essence, these are the roots of my own self-righteousness. These are thoughts that I am better than the prayer that I have to offer today. I think I can’t pray because I’ve prayed “better,” in the past. I think my prayers aren’t worth it because I need the church to get me started. When in fact, this is the best place to start – when I come to my Lord with broken prayers. The prayers of the past, I leave in the past. Each day, I start anew. I fight like I’ve never fought before to get to know my Beloved.
When I ask myself, “Why? Why is it so hard to pray?” It used to be so simple when I was younger. For the young, it is simple, because they are simple. When I was a child, I was told to pray and so, I prayed. Maybe it becomes harder to pray with age because Jesus said, “Unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3). When I start each day irrespective of what was accomplished the day before, I remain a child in faith.
Each day I wake up and remember that His mercies are made new every morning (Lam 3:22). I don’t remember the good of my past, and I live that day for my Lord to the best of ability. I am not living for me, but for Him. If my eyes are ever upon Christ, then the past is not relevant. Today, I begin again. I search for the love of God again.
We see two distinct methods of interactions in the life of Christ. The Christ that would shower love, blessings, healing and compassion on the sinners, the adulterers, the murderers, the demon-possessed, the lepers, the tax-collectors. But then we also see a sterner Christ that spoke with the Pharisees and the leaders of the temple. Was it not the Pharisees that knew Christ and anticipated His coming? The difference between the two, was that the sinner knew to cry for mercy, while the Pharisees were not in need.
If I begin each day anew, overlooking the good of the past, then I can quite easily cry out for mercy. I can easily remember where I stand and where Christ stands. Because it was never about my own personal progress, but the height of grace that was bestowed upon me.
Sometimes, I can misinterpret the words of St Paul when he said, “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things (1 Cor. 13:11). This idea of maturing was one he used quite frequently when preaching, to suggest a growth in spirituality. One that I misinterpreted to mean that prayers are enhanced with age; with spiritual maturity.
Again, he says, “For everyone who partakes only of milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, for he is a babe. But solid food belongs to those who are of full age, that is, those who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern both good and evil.” (Hebrews 5:12-14)
The “child” that St Paul alludes to is the “child” he was before he came to know Christ. Before St Paul knew Christ, he knew the Jewish law inside out. He had more knowledge than maybe even the disciples. For a Jew, I am sure many aspired to be just like him. The “childish things” that St Paul put away, were those pertaining to himself. The thought of his own knowledge, his abilities, his strengths. He left all that behind and emptied himself to be filled with the love of the Father, negating all knowledge of the law, and putting on Love, that has no limits.
To be, “spiritually mature,” is to devoid that title altogether. To begin each day with the knowledge of God’s mercy, and not my own strengths. Today, I begin again, as a child, earnestly desiring the love of my Father, like I’ve never tasted love before.