My progress report? The good news first because I choose to be a half-full kind of person: I’ve taken baby steps in the right direction.
Now for the not-so-good news (I won’t say bad): I’ve been falling on my bum a lot this Lent.
Now for the not-so-good news (I won’t say bad): I’ve been falling on my bum a lot this Lent.
One step forward, two steps back. Or something like that.
Failure stinks, especially when you have complete ownership of your failure.
I recently broke my Lenten screen time rules big-time. There. I said it. And I just went to confession. Oh well. There’s no rationing of God’s grace, mercy, or love. Thank goodness for that.
I surpassed my daily designated one-hour on the Internet largely in part because I felt the need to defend my worldview with words, words, words instead of just living it.
My wise grandma and I were once talking about defending the faith. She advised me to not work so hard at defending my faith but to just do my best to lead a life of faith instead. This is good counsel for evangelizing anything we believe in – whether we’re talking about our system of spiritual beliefs, the way we choose to parent our children, or the best way to manage money. Live it and live it well, and others will want what you have or want to do what you do.
Which me reminds me of the words of Madeleine L’Engle: “We do not draw people to Christ by loudly discrediting what they believe, by telling them they are wrong and how right we are, but by showing them a light that is so lovely that they want with all their hearts to know the source of it.”
I’m a born wordsmith, and sometimes, I hope, my words might help to shed light on the love I have for my family and God. I like to weave together words to inspire, to encourage, and sometimes to express an opinion. I’m also far better at talking with the keyboard than talking with my mouth because there’s more time to think and reflect. When I’m talking, the words can come tumbling out too quickly.
But even in my writing, my words sometimes take on a life of their own. They do more harm than good, I fear – at least in the way that they might divert me from being a better steward of my time. My words can also get taken out of context. They come off as inflammatory when that was not the intention of my heart. Or they come off as overly pious when my heart is anything but. Nor do I always choose my words wisely. And my words – even when they are right and good – are nothing – rubbish really – if I don’t back them up with my life.
Sometimes I’m so busy worrying about the gifts in me that I forget about the God within me. He wants to peek out. I want Him to peek out. But He needs some space to do His work. I need to give Him space. Everything is too crowded right now. I’m too distracted by the constant stream of thoughts that is always flowing from the Internet that I’m finding it more and more difficult to silence the back-and-forth banter long enough to just STOP…and focus on God, my children, and living a life of love and goodness.
The battle against my fallen nature is tough enough without making the blogosphere another battleground. Besides, no matter what we write about in Cyberspace we’re all in this together, slogging through a mire of our own pasts, our insecurities, and our perceptions, but I’m learning ever so slowly that the more I attach myself to Christ, the less power what others think or say about what I write or who I am has over me. (Thanks to a friend for the recent reminder of the fruit of detachment!)
For today I hope to give others glimpses of God’s love – not so much with my words – but with every choice I make, with my life, with the smiles on my face and on my children’s (and we do smile and giggle a lot around here) and also with the gratitude for all those good times and a graceful acceptance of the not-so-fun moments. (“Show, don’t tell” applies as well to Christian mothers as it does to good writers, doesn’t it?)
For today I’ll remind myself that my Lenten failures are behind me and that there is still time to take advantage of the grace of this season. These 40 days are about the beautiful but often painful process of abandoning yourself to God. Taking on a cross that seems too heavy for me to shoulder isn’t easy. I’m weak, but thankfully God is here even when my strength is not. It’s when I rely too much on my own power or my words instead of His Word when God asks me to just stop and shut up long enough to hear Him say, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
I’m listening. In my weakness, make me strong, and may my life radiate the lovely Light that is you dwelling within me.
Comments closed for Lent.
