Redoing it

Sometimes on Facebook, people will write things on my wall, or comment elsewhere after me, and then delete the post. It disappears, but the funny thing is that I still get an email telling me what they wrote.

I empathize with those people. I've long wished for the ability to take mulligans in life--I did as a two-year-old when I dropped my water pistol off the front deck just to watch it fall, then later when my brother and I were kings of the Tandy Color Computer, and getting it right in a game often entailed multiple restarts, and later again in college as I tried to figure out how to run a good cross-country race. And yes, most of the time in between, I had the same wish. But the problem with reality is, even if you ignore it, it doesn't go away; and the reality is, whatever happens can't be taken back. It's just history. Granted, I like history, but this principle of irrevocable linear reality still frustrates me.

The crazy thing is that God forgets my sins, thanks to Jesus' death and resurrection. God forgetting sins hardly seems possible, much less probable, in the context of our lives and given that He's omniscient and holy and all that good stuff. But it's true. "'This is the covenant I will make with them after that time, says the Lord. I will put my laws in their hearts, and I will write them on their minds.' Then he adds: 'Their sins and lawless acts I will remember no more.'"

There, mind-blowingly, is my mulligan. I aim to make the best of it.

p.s. No, I will not reveal the contents of deleted Facebook posts.