I Make Messes

Life is a lot of things, and one of those things is making messes.

And however much I'd like to talk about messes being a good influence and gaining experience and growing from my mistakes and how positive it can all be....I won't. Because despite whatever gain I can sieve out them, that tactic requires looking back. And looking back is not nearly as happy as looking forward, for those who have less life to look back on. No discouragement to those who learn from their mistakes, those whom I applaud for facing their past and dealing with it, that is great; that's simply not what I'm going to (apparently rant) talk about.

So many messes. So many mistakes. There goes the egg, on the floor. Holding the cat that bites, next to my face. Sitting in a wheeled chair, on a slanted floor. Eating prunes, to many days in a row. Saying I'll do the dusting, and forgetting to dust. Doing the laundry, but not the dishes. Remembering I need to eat something, and grabbing a cookie, three different times. Getting a call-in for work, and declining by responding with, "I'd rather not" before remembering my car is in the shop and my clothes are on the line. Thinking, "I will blog today" from the moment I wake up, until the moment before I go to bed. Everything significant, and so insignificant.

Blah. Even I can tell that was a rant. And I wasn't even half finished. But I'm cutting it off.

Today my eyes picked out my mistakes and messes more readily than usual. Not just the easy physical mistakes, or the subtle relational diplomatic mistakes, or the spiritually neglectful mistakes, but all kinds of little errors that channel away our time, energy, and desire.

And if you've had one of those days or are having one right now- the kind of day where even though you don't make any more mistakes than usual but explicitly see lots more-  I hope that you take some reassurance from what my savior is filling my heart with tonight.

I mess up. I am a messed up, mess-making mess.

Jesus never messed up. He messes other people up. So much so that they are messed right out of their mess. And after a lifetime of clinging to Jesus and striving to be mess-less ends, I will stand before God, who will not choose to see my mistakes, but his perfect Son standing with me.

Three questions stem from this mess of a post:

Could my escape from my messes possibly come from trapped-in-messes me?

Could anything less than mess-less be an escape for me?

Could I live my life for anything less than a mess-less savior?

Be reassured from what the answers are not. Jesus lives.

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