something from my manuscript...

II Samuel 9:6 ff.

I would have
_____Settled
For the crumbs
At Your feet

Beneath the table
_____Leftovers
I would have
Taken the place of a dog

Just to be near You.
Yet You set me at
Your table
_____Feast of Love

I would have begged
My bread at the
Court gate.
Yet You bid me enter

Unworthy as I am
_____You love me.
Crippled as I am
_____You love me.

Mephibosheth
Gazing on the face
_____Of the King
Feasting at His table.

What sweet mercy.
I’d have settled.
Yet You lavish Your Love
_____Upon me.


Goodness

Tuesday nights I set my large green trashcan out by our two-lane farm road. Too many trash days have I looked out the window as the trash truck was nearing and just passing with my trashcan safely tucked by the workshop. One Wednesday morning, the sun was crisp and shining after a midnight storm. I gazed out at the road to reassure myself that I had indeed put the trashcan out. But it was gone. Where did it go? I sought out my husband, Danny, to ensure he was not playing some Jedi mind-trick on me (like the man has nothing better to do).

“Honey, where’s the trashcan?”

“Look across the road.”

There she was my lovely, heavy-duty wheeled trashcan splattered across the field like road kill. Oh no! Why a trashcan’s demise would trouble me so is easier understood in the context of goodness.

Who doesn’t want to be “good”? Well thought of? Righteous? I confess, I do. But the Lord has been breaking me of the illusion of my own goodness. What a painful process that is. As a friend and I were speaking about the subject I commented, “Goodness is overrated.”

“Goodness needs to be a by product of holiness, not manufactured,” she replied.

Yes, that’s it.

The Lord has been traveling with me down a road where I am getting a glimpse of the real me. Not the sham, not the image of who I portray myself to be, but the real me. It is a horrifying experience—truly frightening. The judgments, pettiness, anger, and frustration which course through my brain at any given moment are shocking. I am embarrassed by all my repenting and confessing. I wonder if anyone could be as messed up as I am. With each new revelation, I have learned to humble myself and cry out for the Lord’s mercy, asking for a new heart, a new mind, and of course, for forgiveness. I have only been in this place for a short while, but it has been sobering—the cold turkey sober of an addict in rehab.

The sight of the trashcan was a perfect analogy for my life. My “pretty” container has been demolished. My reeking innards lay exposed for the world to see. I’m not even on the road anymore, I am strewn beside it. The sight grieved me. I couldn’t stomach the thought of gathering up all that garbage. I walked into the house—in a funk. What a mess, what do I do now? Can I just leave it? No. That’s disgusting. What a mess. Why me? Ugh.

Somewhere during the haze of that day—which spiraled rapidly down hill—I heard the Lord speak to my soul, “I love you.”

What?

“I love you.”

He loves me. I am much more aware now of who He is speaking to, of what I am capable of. His I love you, in the midst of my funk and utter disdain for myself, sounded like the first birdcall of a crisp spring morning. No, I didn’t start romping through the daisies, but I did take a moment to savour it. You love me? I thought I understood it before, but look at me, look at the mess my life has become, and You love me?
“Yes. I love you.”

Unbelievable. He loves me! In the midst of my utter worthlessness, He loves me. I keep hoping those moments of experiencing His relentless love for me will override my need to “be good.” Being good has hindered me most of my life. My righteousness is as filthy rags—or better yet, as filthy rags strewn about the highway for the neighbors to see. The more I try to manufacture goodness, the more elusive it becomes, the more imbedded in fantasy—albeit a rather grand fantasy of my inherent “goodness”—I become. I want to walk in truth. If the truth of the matter is I am a wreck on the side of the road of life, so be it. I know the Lord can resurrect the dead, heal the maimed, open the eyes of the blind. There is hope because He loves me. There is hope because He loves you.