american idolater

So I haven't posted much lately, because, frankly, you don't want to hear about it.

I haven't been extremely successful in any particular venture. Indeed, I haven't felt like I've done anything well for the last 6-8 weeks, perhaps longer. I'm in a state of barely-controlled chaos: from home management, to child rearing, to homeschooling, to time management, to disciplines of Grace like a regular time in God's Word.

As I lay awake in the frigid wee sma's, reflecting on my non-success (something sure to keep any person sleepless and depressed), it occurred to me that this is just another area where I can't admit to myself or other people that, really, I am a mess sometimes. Why not, though? Because I'd look bad? Oh, yeah, that's Pride, isn't it.

And actually, as I thought further about this current winter of my discontent...the source of my discontent is myself. I'm not happy with the way things are going. I'm not comfortable. MY needs aren't being met. Oh, yeah, that's Self, isn't it? I'm bowing to the altar of Myself and then wondering why it's so unsatisfying.

So my natural reaction is to pull an ostrich, burying my head in the sand and pretending it'll all go away (further compounding the problems). Don't want to step on the scale until I've had a good week. Don't want to let people see the cracks in the veneer until I can get my act together. Don't want to run to God until I get myself all fixed up.

How backwards to think that I can bring anything to God except my pitiful, broken self anyway! He resists the proud and gives grace to the humble. And those who walk in pride, He is able to humble. So the choice is pretty easy: I can humble myself in the sight of the Lord, and allow Him to lift me up, or let Him do the humbling for me.

Perhaps that is just what He's doing.

The words of the hymn text seem to fit my need at this point in my life:


Come, ye sinners, poor and needy, / Weak and wounded, sick and sore;
Jesus ready stands to save you, / Full of pity, love and pow'r.

Come, ye needy, come, and welcome, / God's free bounty glorify;
True belief and true repentance, / Every grace that brings you nigh.

Come, ye weary, heavy laden, / Bruised and broken by the Fall;
If you tarry till you're better, / You will never come at all.

Let not conscience make you linger, / Nor of fitness fondly dream;
All the fitness He requireth / Is to feel your need of Him.

I will arise and go to Jesus,
He will embrace me in His arms;
In the arms of my dear Savior,
O there are ten thousand charms.