Last week I fell flat on my face. Not the kind of falling that requires a trip to the ER, but rather the kind of falling that requires a trip to the Cross.
I voiced an opinion.
I spoke out of an assumption.
I was wrong and I wanted to be right.
The words on the screen, “Get the log out of your own eye!” caused an immediate reaction on my part of self-righteous indignation. I found myself reacting and justifying my actions. Rising in defense, and believing I was right.
As those words reverberated around inside of me, I found myself falling. The very thing that I was willing to go to the mountain for, had me tumbling head-long down the side, and I fell long and hard!
I laid with the pieces of my very soul splayed out before me; fragmented; scattered…and I found myself in a familiar pit of self-pity and anger.
It isn’t surprising that God chose the dark of night, to wake me and say, “I’m not interested in your being right, Sheila. I’m interested in your heart reflecting mine.”
I sat on the side of the bed, feeling the ache. The realization of my wrong doing tasted bitter and I wanted to be sick.
I went downstairs to drink some water. I stood in my dark kitchen and all that had been building up inside of me for most of the last year, come out in tears. It was an ugly cry. It was a good cry. It was repentance, obedience, and surrender.
The sun rose, and I asked for forgiveness.
Forgiveness does not.
Grace found me. Love rescued me.
Have you been found? I’d love to hear about your rescue. Please comment below.