But even though I understand, I don't like when you do it. It doesn't sound nice or loving. It doesn't sound like Jesus to me, and it actually makes me cringe a little. You told my kids that they were slobs, too messy to clean up their room properly and that you were tired of finding things just everywhere. You barked orders at them, and I'm 100% certain that it hurt them. I don't like it when you hurt my kids. It's times like these that really you shouldn't even talk at all, unless, of course, you want to talk to Jesus.
And I know that yesterday you felt weak in the "I feel beautiful" arena of your mind. I saw the look on your face when you went to change for church, the disgust that crept onto your face. I know this is tiring, fighting this at times. It makes your patience thin as your mood darkens a bit.
I know you enjoy time in your house, time where you don't have to go anywhere, time where you can just clean and listen to music; but sometimes you don't get that and it drains you. Staying at home refreshes you.
And when your house is messy, your mind feels messy. Organized surroundings make your brain feel more calm. I get that. Really, I do.
I can see you fighting though. I can see that you don't like it either. That battle between using your words to lift up and not tear down. I saw it in you at church yesterday.
You rode there in a foul mood, but annoyed at yourself at the same time. You took your seat inside the church, and the music started playing. 3 seats over was a man fighting for his life. 2 weeks ago they didn't think he would make it, and now here he was, standing up singing "The Stand". At times, he would have to sit down, but then with renewed strength, he would stand again.
I saw you realize the pettiness of your frustrations and annoyances. Earlier you didn’t feel so pretty on the outside when you looked in the mirror. And now you saw the ugliness in your heart as you looked in the mirror of your heart. The ugliness that causes your peace to be determined by your surroundings instead of allowing Jesus to be your peace at all times. It is this ugliness that causes your words to tear down and not encourage, your frustrations to determine your tone and words.
And in this realization, you were singing, finding your way to the Cross.
“So I’ll stand, with arms high and heart abandoned, in awe of the One who gave it all.
So I’ll stand, my soul Lord to You surrendered, all I am is Yours.”
And I know you meant it, but then you got home, and your foul mood returned pretty quickly. It was as if you forgot this process of surrender, this being at the foot of the Cross and the realization of your ugliness; for your ugliness was back.
The only thing your arms wanted to do were be stiff with clinched fists on the end. And your heart? Well, it surrendered to reckless words; for the mouth often shows what’s in the heart.
I know you were disappointed. I watched you trying to go back to that place, that place of surrender, to the Cross. And when you wouldn’t make it, I saw you get back up and try again.
As much as I don’t appreciate you hurting the ones that I love with your nasty words, and your lack of patience, your actions that don’t show Jesus to them, I’m proud of you for trying again and again, for trying to claw your way back to the place you know you need to be. I’m proud of you for knowing that, left to your own strength, you would never find your way back to this surrender, because your ugliness really is deep, your sin encased around you tightly forming your nutcase.
I’m here to tell you that you will make it back to that place. I’ve seen you do it before. I’ve seen you make it back to the Cross, that place of surrender and praise. That place where Jesus loved you with a love like no other, that place that covers your mess-ups with grace.
Lay low yourself there, at the Cross; for it is because of this place that you can even have anything good in your life, in your heart. Lay low and surrender. Allow Jesus to do what only He can do there. I can’t wait to hear about it, this cracking of your nutcase that wraps itself around you. I can’t wait to see what is under there, the beauty that will emerge in this laying low of self.
Linking up with Michelle at Graceful