Day One Hundred and Eighty Nine - Sacrifice

Not the good kind. The pre Columbus Meso American kind. We all think of human sacrifice, of ripping beating hearts from the chest, of an altar drenched in blood, as barbaric and disgusting. There is something about it that just screams darkness and oppression. Yet... I know I am guilty of it. I have been a victim to it as well. We all have. We are all victims as well as the priest that maims. Except my altar isn't to the name of a god I can't pronounce, it's pride. It's cowardice. It's stubbornness. It's laziness. It's fear. It's greed. It's lust. It's me. I cannot even begin to count the number of times I have laid a loved one down and hurt them because of my pride. Or my stubbornness. Or my fear. Or any of the altars I feed. 

I'm sorry. I should never sacrifice love and faith and obedience to fear and stubbornness and pride. I have often times been in ignorance of my own faults, but it doesn't excuse them. Nothing excuses human sacrifice. So I am sorry. 

I write this, you see, from the altar of another. I have been sacrificed to her pride. To her stubbornness. To her fear. This altar is familiar to me. It is not the first time I have been here. I have been bled dry here a few times. But I always considered it a sort of donation before. The truth of the matter is that we mistreat those we trust because we trust they will forgive us. But I've been at this altar too many times, this is my last. Sometimes, we all make donations to the altars of our loved ones. We'll let them yell and vent, we'll let them blow us off for a new love interest, we'll let them get away with a great many things because we know we do the same. Because we have the same altars. 

But this time, it's different. This is no nick, no mere cut. This is a severed artery, bleeding away what was left of our friendship for the sake of her pride. And I am done. I will not be her sacrifice anymore. Her pride has indeed won, I will no longer contest it. I no longer want to. She has fed it to gluttony; it will continue to devour anything that stands in it's way. But as for me, I am done. 

And humbled, for I know I have done the same. No one should ever have to be a victim to my altars. I shouldn't have any altars. For that is the root of the sin. Not the sacrifice, but the idolatry. If my only altar was to my only God, then no one would be sacrificed. For He sacrificed Himself once and for all. The pain we put each other through is the natural consequence of putting ourselves before Him. 

Join me, then, in sacrificing my pride, my selfishness, my arrogance, my fear, my stubbornness, my cowardice, and all the rest of my altars, to Him who is able to save us from ourselves. For He will teach us how to love, how to be humble, how to be brave, how to be courageous, how to be open, and how to be safe. I'm just saying, no one was ever sacrificed at the altar of humility.