Clothespins
When Trey was in Kindergarten, his teacher had a discipline system involving clothespins. Each student began each week with two clothespins attached to the rim of a large bucket. If at any point during the week the student's behavior disappointed the teacher, one clothespin was removed and placed inside the bucket.
Of course the goal was to get through the week with both clothespins still up. The kids who did that received a reward. If one clothespin was lost, no reward. If both were down, there were consequences.
I have been saved, covered by the blood of Jesus, since the single digits. But y'all, every night for as long as I can remember, I have crawled into bed feeling like I had lost both of my clothespins.
As I, for the millionth time, would approach the throne of grace with my tail between my legs, begging forgiveness for repetitive sin, there was the same picture in my mind. That of God in all His glory, seated on His throne, sighing and shaking His head.
Not loss of salvation - I could never have earned it, so I can never lose it.
But sheer disappointment. Every single day of my life. I am a disappointment to the God who created me.
Enter Beth Moore. Or rather, God's world-rocking message to me through her beautiful southern drawl.
She spoke on grace. The absolutely free expression of God's love, shown to us when He sent His only Son to give His life in place of ours. This amazing grace that has taken us out from under the law, that has abolished religion and paved the way for supernatural relationship instead.
Yes, I hold tight to the grace that assures me an eternity with my precious Savior, Jesus Christ. But where I have gone wrong is in limiting God's grace to salvation. As Beth pointed out - and apparently I'm very much not alone in this - for our salvation we stand on grace, and for every other part of life, we stand on the law.
We have to follow all the rules. Do the right things. For the right people. For the right reasons. And keep going and doing and giving until we're like this exhausted maniac robot covered in Goldfish crumbs from spending seventeen straight weeks in the church nursery.
(Totally not knocking the church nursery. Seventeen weeks is a bit much, though.)
Until we snap. And the stress of it all causes us to go all cranky-pants, turning inward to our self-important pity party complete with super-size bowls of ice cream. (Or whatever your snap-sin is.) Then comes the guilt. Shame. Regret.
Jesus told a story of guilt and shame and regret in the Bible. In Luke 15, the prodigal son was just done with being good. The father allowed his son to go and basically do what he felt he had to do. After living that way for a while, the son became miserable and, as the Word says, "came to his senses".
He was ashamed to go back to his father, so he decided to go home, and prepared this whole apology speech where he would ask his father to hire him as a worker.
"But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. The son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.'"
His father interrupted the well-rehearsed speech and called for celebration. "For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found."
How often have I prepared such speeches, after yelling at the kids, or grumbling over something at home, or yet again seeking comfort and identity in food? "God, I'm sorry! I'm worthless, I just can't get this right. I am no longer worthy to be called yours. No longer worthy!"
And God says, "You never were."
So many amazing truths came out of God's message through Beth, but there was one that blew my mind wide open. The concept of God being disappointed is not in the Bible. It is not, and cannot be, a characteristic of God because disappointment involves expectations not being met. He created me. He knows I am dust. He knows I will sin. And He loves me anyway.
Oh, my soul, the grace. It goes so far beyond salvation. Exceeding. Abundant. Abounding, as the word says. There is no good-deed quota to meet. Nor is there shame.
In grace, there is only the name of Jesus. And His blood, His mercy, His goodness covering not only our souls, but our every moment of life. No matter what our life looks like, no matter our depth of sin. Grace is there. Not as permission to continue in sin, but the power to get out. And to be released to feel love like we've never known.
It was just after Beth's message of grace that I knelt and said a very tearful prayer of thanks to God. And for maybe the first time in my life, prayed with my face to the sky. Not out of non-humility, but in the realization that I was praying to a God who was not disappointed in me.
He wants me.
You know what? He wants you, too.
And in His grace, you'll never ever run out of clothespins.
Of course the goal was to get through the week with both clothespins still up. The kids who did that received a reward. If one clothespin was lost, no reward. If both were down, there were consequences.
I have been saved, covered by the blood of Jesus, since the single digits. But y'all, every night for as long as I can remember, I have crawled into bed feeling like I had lost both of my clothespins.
As I, for the millionth time, would approach the throne of grace with my tail between my legs, begging forgiveness for repetitive sin, there was the same picture in my mind. That of God in all His glory, seated on His throne, sighing and shaking His head.
Not loss of salvation - I could never have earned it, so I can never lose it.
But sheer disappointment. Every single day of my life. I am a disappointment to the God who created me.
Enter Beth Moore. Or rather, God's world-rocking message to me through her beautiful southern drawl.
She spoke on grace. The absolutely free expression of God's love, shown to us when He sent His only Son to give His life in place of ours. This amazing grace that has taken us out from under the law, that has abolished religion and paved the way for supernatural relationship instead.
Yes, I hold tight to the grace that assures me an eternity with my precious Savior, Jesus Christ. But where I have gone wrong is in limiting God's grace to salvation. As Beth pointed out - and apparently I'm very much not alone in this - for our salvation we stand on grace, and for every other part of life, we stand on the law.
We have to follow all the rules. Do the right things. For the right people. For the right reasons. And keep going and doing and giving until we're like this exhausted maniac robot covered in Goldfish crumbs from spending seventeen straight weeks in the church nursery.
(Totally not knocking the church nursery. Seventeen weeks is a bit much, though.)
Until we snap. And the stress of it all causes us to go all cranky-pants, turning inward to our self-important pity party complete with super-size bowls of ice cream. (Or whatever your snap-sin is.) Then comes the guilt. Shame. Regret.
Jesus told a story of guilt and shame and regret in the Bible. In Luke 15, the prodigal son was just done with being good. The father allowed his son to go and basically do what he felt he had to do. After living that way for a while, the son became miserable and, as the Word says, "came to his senses".
He was ashamed to go back to his father, so he decided to go home, and prepared this whole apology speech where he would ask his father to hire him as a worker.
"But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. The son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.'"
His father interrupted the well-rehearsed speech and called for celebration. "For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found."
How often have I prepared such speeches, after yelling at the kids, or grumbling over something at home, or yet again seeking comfort and identity in food? "God, I'm sorry! I'm worthless, I just can't get this right. I am no longer worthy to be called yours. No longer worthy!"
And God says, "You never were."
So many amazing truths came out of God's message through Beth, but there was one that blew my mind wide open. The concept of God being disappointed is not in the Bible. It is not, and cannot be, a characteristic of God because disappointment involves expectations not being met. He created me. He knows I am dust. He knows I will sin. And He loves me anyway.
Oh, my soul, the grace. It goes so far beyond salvation. Exceeding. Abundant. Abounding, as the word says. There is no good-deed quota to meet. Nor is there shame.
In grace, there is only the name of Jesus. And His blood, His mercy, His goodness covering not only our souls, but our every moment of life. No matter what our life looks like, no matter our depth of sin. Grace is there. Not as permission to continue in sin, but the power to get out. And to be released to feel love like we've never known.
It was just after Beth's message of grace that I knelt and said a very tearful prayer of thanks to God. And for maybe the first time in my life, prayed with my face to the sky. Not out of non-humility, but in the realization that I was praying to a God who was not disappointed in me.
He wants me.
You know what? He wants you, too.
And in His grace, you'll never ever run out of clothespins.
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