After 85 days of BP’s oil rig spilling crude into the Gulf of Mexico, the cap is finally on. That’s good, but it’s definitely not good enough.

I’ve been thinking a lot about starting over recently—mostly about money, but also about mistakes. On one hand, we live in a society that allows people to declare bankruptcy, to start over with a clean slate. This is not altogether dissimilar to the Old Testament tradition of Jubilee, which gives people an opportunity to lay aside the debt that clings so tight. This can be a good thing; in fact, it’s kind of the heart of Jesus’ scandalous cleansing of sin—giving people a chance to start over with a clean slate.

On the other hand, taking advantage of some of those opportunities (like financial bankruptcy) hurts others, too—it means that obligations are left unfulfilled. It reminds me of a passage from Alcoholics Anonymous:

The alcoholic is like a tornado roaring his way through the lives of others. Hearts are broken. Sweet relationships are dead. Affections have been uprooted. Selfish and inconsiderate habits have kept the home in turmoil. We feel a man is unthinking when he says that sobriety is enough. He is like the farmer who came up out of his cyclone cellar to find his home ruined. To his wife, he remarked, “Don’t see anything the matter here, Ma. Ain’t it grand the wind stopped blowin’?’’

That’s how I feel when I hear some excitement about the cap finally getting on the BP oil rig. On one hand, it’s terrific that the problem isn’t still getting worse; on the other hand, it’s hard to get super excited when the devastation is still so vast. It’s how I’ll feel when the federal government finally quits deficit spending (if that ever happens)–but all that will do is keep it from getting worse; it won’t do anything about actually reducing the debt.

On a personal front, I am getting weary with working so hard to reduce my debt—because it’s still so daunting. But at least I’m whittling away at it—trying not to take advantage of a system that would allow me to simply step away from my obligations, because, after all, the debt was my fault to begin with.

Good luck, BP; I feel your pain just a little.