Even here

I stood at the sink, scrubbing away the mess from newborn clothes.  It’s a part of life with a 3 week old.  This was yesterday’s mess, actually.  It had been left because, yesterday, I was so exhausted I could barely stand.  And Tim said he would clean it, but then forgot.  And that’s more than okay.  Because he was working all day, plus doing a dozen other things – at least – that were more important than cleaning baby clothes.  So, I stood scrubbing.

After a couple minutes, I felt the sharp stinging pain in my abdomen that told me I was doing too much, that reminded me that things had gone wrong and I’m not all better.  I finished scrubbing.  I got another load of laundry going.  I went to fetch the not-quite-two year old for her nap, telling her to hold my hand – that I couldn’t carry her right now.  When she didn’t take my hand right away, my ten year old offered to carry her for me, and it seemed almost laughable that he could do that which I couldn’t.

I finally sat down after going through the naptime routine.  It wasn’t even two in the afternoon yet, and I had to be off my feet.  I feel like a failure.  I have lists of things that need doing and I can barely manage to do laundry and throw simple dinners together.  My brain is foggy and days are slipping by with little order and little productivity.  And I doubt that I will ever measure up to any standard.  I tell myself that this is why God doesn’t answer, this is why He overlooks me – ’cause why would He bother with someone who does such a terrible job at life, even when trying to do well?

Even as I tell myself these things though, I am reminded that it’s not really true.  I’m reminded of a moment in worship several weeks ago when He did answer these particular doubtings of my heart.  The logic that has run through my mind countless times in life that says He loves me and saves me by default, that He only “loves” me because He loves the whole world and I’m a part of the world, that if He could choose to love me, He wouldn’t – was assaulting my heart at that time, too.

But, His words to me then, and again today, were simple: If I had wanted to, I could have chosen to not die for your sins.

See, I forget sometimes that the whole idea of salvation was God’s alone.  I tend to think that He was bound by some rule that forced Him to make it an all or nothing thing.  I gloss over the reality that the punishment Jesus bore wasn’t for the idea of sin, but for the personal, one-at-a-time a gazillion times over sins that each hold the power to separate the sinner from God…which means that each of my sins had to be addressed on the cross, and could have been left out if God so chose.  So, to be saved, God had to want to save me.  I know it’s simple, but I guess I need simple.

At that same time, my other question to the Lord was why didn’t You make me good enough? I asked because I felt like so many others were good enough.  Everyone always seems to do so much better than me at everything.  It can appear as if others make God’s gift of salvation worth it.  Me, though?  I was sure I was a waste of His time and effort.  His answer, however, was that He didn’t make anyone good enough – that not one is righteous apart from Christ, that even what I might see as amazing in someone falls so far short of His standard.  Even if He were in the business of comparing me to someone else, the reality is that my worst and someone else’s best are hardly different when compared with sinless perfection.  He’s not in this to garner from us a certain level of performance, and regardless of how I might perceive things, the free gift of salvation is impossible to deserve. This wasn’t a new realization, but I obviously needed to learn it again that day.  And again this afternoon.

Much of the time, lately, it has seemed to me that God has just been completely absent from my life.  I have a lot of frustrations and confusion about a lot of things.  It’s easy for me to be so focused on those things that I ignore the times He does show up and speak truth to my often foolish heart.  But remembering those moments is necessary (obvious, right?), especially when I feel forgotten.  They may not be as frequent or faith-building as I might think I need, but they do remind me of His character, and His presence with me, and that I’m not so far removed from Him that He can’t or won’t reach me.

Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence?
If I ascend into heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.
If I take the wings of the morning,
And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
Even there Your hand shall lead me,
And Your right hand shall hold me.  —Psalm 139: 7-10

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