Thursday, September 11, 2008


There is nothing quite like a good kick in the pants to get your butt in gear. When everything is going smoothly, or so I think, a big kick to the kiester, pushing you to the curb really puts things into perspective. Makes you wonder if it's ever even possible to walk the 'straight and narrow' and not meander off into the local shops, just for a peek.

What the heck? What on earth are you talking about?

As some of you know, I've been on a journey of self-discovery over the past 8 months. Discovering who I am. Discovering who the world is. Discovering who you are. Discovering. Some thing I've uncovered have been exactly as I suspected. Others, however, have been a surprise to my calculating side. Not because they failed to live up to my predefinition, but in how I failed to live up to my own standards.

If there is any one thing I could say coming out of the past two years, it's that I'm a certified failure. I will never be good enough, smart enough, or wise enough to carry my own weight. No amount of planning will account for the variables. Something will always go wrong, and that something will usually be me.

An errant word... a flippant action... words unspoken. These things haunt me.

The hover over me, calling out my faults, casting the spotlight upon my imperfections, daring me to prove them wrong.

Cringe as I might, contorted into various precarious positions, I can't hide in the shadows. I'm a big screw-up.

Heavy. Like an anchor around your neck, dragging you down. Rancor builds up in your accusers as they tug at your ankles. You tread water faster, harder; but it's not enough. You can't keep your mouth above the surface, and your lungs begin to fill. Hope abandons ship, praying that they take you, not it before the shore is in reach.

A lifeline. A hand around your wrist. You forgot something... the spotlight was never meant to be on you. You weren't designed to stand up to scrutiny. You are imperfect, that was the whole point all along.

I screw up. I screw up a lot. I say strange, awkward, horrific things. Sometimes, they hurt other people, and not just myself. They often bare a striking resemblance to everything I wish I wasn't. If I was a construction site, I'd be a giant hole, and they'd be building it upside down, putting the roof in the ground. It's just backwards.

But thankfully I'm not in it alone. I'm hopefully dependant on something greater than myself. If I want to be like Jesus, then I need Jesus. I need Him in every aspect. I need to get up in the morning asking Him to be my guide. I need to eat my breakfast keeping in mind that He provided it. I need to drive to work, conscious that the person who cut me off is in a rush to get to work, because if they don't, they will likely be fired. I need to be aware that the pushy person in the office is probably fighting with their spouse at home.

Every person I meet is just as much a wreck as I am. The difference is that I have Christ. The question is, does that show? Am I joyful? Am I patient? Am I kind? Am I willing to give grace?

I'm a total screw-up. And I'm totally thankful for that.