You know those days when you mess up? Not the ones where the photo radar catches you or you discover you've been mispronouncing a word all your life or you swear in front of your Oma. The ones where you hurt someone you love. The ones where you say things you regret the second they are out of your mouth. The ones where your reactions are ungodly, your attitudes impure, your motives selfish. The ones where, even while you are still kicking yourself for the last blunder, you can't help but fall again.
We are so flawed. We are so weak and powerless. So human. So sinful. A thousand times we've failed.
I know a lot about days like this because I live with many small children. Sometimes I can't even tell when these days are starting, as they begin fairly benign. Maybe one kid will get out of bed and immediately go to claim the favourite cereal bowl for himself - this month's favourite is yellow. Not necessarily malicious, just centered very much on the interests of self. But it doesn't take long to devolve into shoving matches over who gets to hand out the vitamins, hollered accusations about who is being too loud, and words like 'poopy-head' being spat in each other's general direction. Sometimes, but not always, we manage to avoid teeth marks on flesh.
Maybe it's easier to think of on toddlers. Maybe it's easier to think of as just happening the odd time - to delude ourselves into believing that that's not the real us. But those days are more reflective of our hearts than we would like to admit. We might not push, yell, name-call, or bite, but if we are honest, that sinful ugliness is right there inside of us and it comes out in one form or another day in and day out.
So what happens with my kids, in the middle of those days when I want to hide in the shower, eat their whole stash of Halloween chocolate, or take up drinking? Eventually, after they are separated, the tears are wiped away, and the drama has quieted, my four-year-old asks to pray. He asks to pray because he already know that he can't just decide to change his behaviour. He knows that resolving to do better is not going to fix things long-term. And he knows that spending time sitting with Jesus is what his heart needs. In simple words, he shares his struggles with Jesus, confesses that he is weak, and asks for more love in his heart. Oh-so-innocently, he trusts that Jesus has the power to change him on the side. Those few minutes fill him up and he marvels at the power of Jesus inside of him.
The trouble with being a grown-up is that we are more practiced at hiding our sin. And we are better at appearing more competent at doing things by our own power for longer periods of time between major down-on-our-knees-before-the-Lord melt-downs. Let me tell you, daily surrendering on the inside, is so much better than fighting to do things ourselves, somehow trying to prove that we can. We are so flawed. We are so weak and powerless. So human. So sinful. A thousand times we've failed.
But God? He is everlasting and His light will shine when all else fades. He is never-ending and His glory goes beyond all fame. Would you do what my four-year-old knows we need to do? Would you go to Jesus now? A thousand times we've failed, still His mercy remains. Should we stumble again, still we're caught in His grace. In our heart, and our souls, let us give Him control. Let Him consume us from the inside out. Take a few minutes right now, in your own heart, and tell Jesus where you are at, confess what you need to confess, and then praise Him for His grace and for who He is to you today.
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Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades. Never-ending, Your glory goes beyond all fame. And the cry of our hearts is to bring You praise, from the inside out, Lord, our souls cry out. Amen.
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