There’s the lists. And the laundry, the books and the homework and the learning.
And these kids we’re raising, they keep falling, a lot like their mother. Parenting’s this way of bending over in humility to help the scraped child up because we know it takes a lifetime to learn how to walk with Him.
And then there’s this fear beast that I thought I’d already wrestled down, skinned, hung and mounted — and it’s the thing that breathes again ugly and too close.
It’s strange how knots in the pit of the stomach can try to undo everything.
For the life of me?
I can’t get it all right.
Heaven and earth both know I am a miserable mess away from perfect. This is exactly why the bruised knees just have to bend at the table of communion, and say, yes, please.
I need Jesus.
I need His life.
I need the perfect, sinless sacrifice of Jesus Christ who can take all the broken messes and make them into mosaics of Grace.
~ Ann Voskamp
Yes, I am having one of those nights… on the verge of tears for the past three days and now tonight they fall because the wound is too deep and the heart is too weary and the mind is just not willing to fight it anymore. I was holding it together and holding it tight until I read this post above and my protective wall of resolute determination to control all emotion has collapsed in my lap.
I am never more certain of my need for grace than when I find myself on my face in the dog hair covered floor… when I find myself in the filth of my pit of flesh. As I am on the inside wanting to scream and yell out my feelings of mistreatment and disrespect and yet struggling all the more with the sheer certainty that I am being sifted and I do not want the pain to be in vain.
It’s crazy how the simplest things can crush you when you are seeking to be holy as He is holy, when you are desiring to pursue righteousness as He commanded… when you want to be one who is pure at heart so that you might see Him… and the simple fact is that nothing matters but seeing Him.
So in this realization… in this cry out for His grace to be lavished upon me and for His mercy and the cleansing of His Word to wash over me and remove this filth of fleshly ick from my inner being I must decide what’s more important… winning my right, my way, my desires, or submitting to this test and saying Yes, Lord… what are you trying to teach me.
Oh how much easier it is to ball my fist up tight than to let my arms fall limp at my side and bow humbly before Him.
And then there’s this fear beast that I thought I’d already wrestled down, skinned, hung and mounted — and it’s the thing that breathes again ugly and too close.
It’s strange how knots in the pit of the stomach can try to undo everything.
For the life of me?
I can’t get it all right.
For the life of me I can’t get it all right. I always fail. I always fall short.
I always end up right here again doubting even my own existence, and at the point when it seems like all the levelness of life has just been shook into a disheveled heep… I am there in Philadelphia clinging to the One who has said He is holy, He is true, He has the key and what He opens no one can shut… not even me.
And I cry out… Oh God let them know that You have loved me. Let them see that Your Word is true and right and let them see in spite of me because I am so messed up.
I am flesh and I am tired and I am full of feelings I wish I didn’t have… anxieties, anger, frustrations, disappointments, and I cry out… Oh God let them know that You have loved me… for when I confess my sin You are faithful to forgive me and cleanse me of all unrighteousness…
Oh God teach me to respond better.
And there it is.
The lesson.
This is what He is trying to teach me.
How to respond… not react.
One more trip around the mountain…
Oh how I need Him… I need Him every hour
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