It has been months since I felt the slightest tug, the slightest inspiration, the slightest motivation to write. I wonder why, I think to myself between the mounds of duties through out the day. Am I just at a busy stage of life? Please don't tell me I'm still comparing my writings to others that say all the right things? But they really do. Don't we outgrow that 'comparing' phase in highschool? Will I ever grow up?
I'm surprised God is still bothering with me.
These scattered thoughts pile high as I recollect the miserable failings I had that day. Maybe it was when I lost my cool and yelled earlier. Why can I not get around to hosting friends for dinner again? I keep forgetting to return so and so's phone call. I meant to remember her birthday this year, what a lame friend I am. Why does the mud room seem to resemble all the rooms this week?
It's no wonder I haven't been inspired, how can I encourage others when I'm sitting in the middle of a big ol' mess created by my lack of grace and good nature.
I'm just admitting I'm not perfect. I'm just admitting I get uninspired. I'm just stating the raw truth of my frail, dust made being. I'm simply confessing that I sometimes strive more to please YOU than....Him.
And when I do that, I find I cannot please. I cannot write good enough, I cannot get more inspired, I cannot keep up, I find that I am dirt made and feel the reality of it.
But amongst all the imperfect, I get a nudge--a stir--a whisper. Do you not love how the Lord woos us back to Him? How He Invites us back to commune with Him? Our filthy rags and all.
We walk right across our muddy floors (maybe it's just mine) and past the blaring calendar of missed birthdays, past the open laptop of awesome blog posts of those ladies that probably really do have it right, past the iphone lit up with missed calls and notifications and find the feet we so desperately need to bow to, cling to, yield to, cry to, pour to....
It's like the woman who washed Jesus' feet with her tears and poured OUT her most valuable item she owned, on one she knew was worth more than a thousand bottles of perfume. Yes, it's like her. The one whose life was in shambles. The one who carried guilt from the day's preceding, from the weeks preceding, the years...
It's exactly like her. The one who knew she could never please her on lookers. But she didn't try. She knew her worth without the critics. But what's humbling is she ran to the one with whom she did not have to pretend. The one who knew it all, saw it all, felt it all, forgave it all, and covered it all.
Her on lookers saw a wretched mess...a life out of order...a person who did not have it together on the outside as did they...but wouldn't you agree she had it going on when it came to the inside? Was it she or the on lookers that left whole that day? Was it she or the on lookers that felt like they had pleased someone that day, maybe for the first time? She had let everyone around her down, more so than that, disgraced them, but she left that day pleasing her savior...finally, the only one worth pleasing.
How often can we say this of us? Are you failing at pleasing? Can you not keep up? Is it vitally important to keep everyone liking you? Do you ever look around and see a mess and wonder what you've been doing because you feel exhausted?
Maybe, just maybe, its time for you and I to uncover our sinful priorities, those priorities that seem so important but leave us empty as the on lookers, and bend a knee to the only one worth our effort. Here in do we get the satisfaction of finally doing something right. Finally pleasing. Not only do I want to be pleasing but I want to be pleasant. The aroma of that perfume was pleasant to all those around---so go ahead, give up! Throw in the towel. We'll both be so very glad we did.
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