Forgiving Ourselves

Megan Breedlove May 9, 2011 0 Comments

This is the third devotion in a three-part series on forgiveness. If you have not already done so, you might find it helpful to read the first two parts: Forgiveness: What It Is, What It Isn’t and Forgiving Others.

There was once a young man who had everything going for him. He was smart, well-educated, and at least trilingual. He was the protégé of one of the greatest minds in his field, and he was being groomed to follow in his mentor’s footsteps. He was both a citizen of the greatest government on earth and an up-and-coming leader among his own ethnic group. He took part in some of the greatest political events of his day, and when that wasn’t enough, he began to orchestrate some of those events. The only problem was that he was also a terrorist. In fact, he believed he was called by God to destroy any of his fellow men who converted to a heathen religion. He made it his mission in life to hunt down and destroy those who had abandoned what he believed was the one true faith. As he became more and more successful in murdering apostates, he was given increasing power by those in authority over him. There was no stopping this man. His zeal for slaughtering those who opposed what he stood for became insatiable. Because of him, countless lives were lost and innocents executed. And he gave approval to it all.

Until, that is, he was met on the road to Damascus by the Lord Jesus. I’m writing, of course, about the Apostle Paul.

His name wasn’t Paul at the time of his Damascus trip, however. It was still Saul. And Saul was a brutal man, full of hatred for Christians, intent on destroying as many as he could, all in the name of God. It took a blinding encounter with the risen Lord Jesus Himself to change Saul’s heart.

I wonder how Paul must have felt when he realized the magnitude of the evil he had committed. Scripture tells us that he hated his sin, and I’m sure he grieved over the terrible things he had done and the awful consequences he had caused for those left behind. He must have grieved even more over what he had done to Jesus, whom he now knew and loved.

As he described himself, he was the least of all God’s saints because he had deliberately persecuted people for following Christ. He knew the vileness of his sin and must have felt it deeply. It would have been easy for Paul to spend the rest of his life wracked with guilt, unable to put it behind him, confronted with the horror of his sin at every turn.

Some of us know how Paul must have been tempted to feel. We, too, have something in our past—or maybe repeated somethings—deliberate acts which we now see for the awfulness that they were. Or perhaps we remember an innocent mistake that reaped horrifying consequences. Either way, we know what it’s like to buckle under the weight of the misery of our sin and be unable to rise. We know we shouldn’t have done it—whatever “it” was—but we did, and now we can’t change that fact. The only thing we seem to be able to do is to constantly, unremittingly condemn ourselves for our actions and grieve over the fact that what’s done can’t be undone.

We know we’re supposed to forgive others when they sin, but how do we apply forgiveness when the person we need to forgive is ourself?

To answer that question, let’s look at what Paul did. After all, he of all people had a reason to feel guilty: he had murdered countless human beings for being Christians. He had cold-bloodedly taken their lives because they loved the Lord Jesus. Yet instead of drowning in his guilt, he went on to write two-thirds of the New Testament and be perhaps the greatest witness for Christ ever. He became victorious in Christ. Many of us desperately need victory over guilt, too.

First, he repented and threw himself upon Christ’s mercy. He didn’t deny what he had done, or the depravity of it; he admitted it fully, as awful as it was. We, too, must admit what we’ve done—no excusing it, and no minimizing it. We need to see it and admit it for what it is—sin. Even if we didn’t purposely set out to sin, we must acknowledge any part of it that was deliberate, or that we could have caused to turn out differently.

Second, Paul accepted Christ’s forgiveness and spent the rest of his life living for Him. We must accept the forgiveness Christ offers, too. “But what I did was so bad, I can’t accept forgiveness,” we’re tempted to say. Remember, forgiveness isn’t given to people who deserve it. It’s given to imperfect human beings who need it. Refusing to accept Christ’s forgiveness isn’t really humility; it’s calling Christ a liar. After all, God says that whoever repents is forgiven, by His grace. We’re forgiven, whether we acknowledge it or not. When we refuse to believe that we’re forgiven, it’s like telling Christ that He’s a liar and didn’t really forgive us. “I want to believe it, but I just can’t,” we say. Sure we can. We can choose with our minds to believe that we’re forgiven even if our hearts don’t feel like it. When we accept forgiveness with our mind, feelings will follow. If we wait to feel forgiven, though, without first believing it in our mind, it will never happen. We must choose to believe what God says is true and not what we feel is true.

Finally, Paul made a point of using the memory of his sins as a reminder of God’s grace instead of a reason to condemn himself. Each time we read in Scripture that Paul remembers his sins, we also read that he turns the memory into an occasion for remembering and rejoicing in God’s incredible grace. I know this works. There was one time when I made an innocent yet terrible mistake that could have had horrific consequences. For a long time, each time I found myself in a similar situation, I would remember what I did and realize anew the awfulness of it. It wasn’t until our pastor preached on a similar situation in his life and told how he had handled it (exactly the way Paul handled it) that I realized what I needed to do. Each time I remembered my mistake, I refused to dwell on it, instead giving praise to God for His grace in what could have been a very bad situation. At first, it was hard to turn my thoughts away from what had happened and toward God’s grace, but with practice, it became easier. Now, when I remember it, I no longer feel awful. Instead, I rejoice in God’s grace. Whether your situation was a sin or a mistake, the same principle applies to you. Each time you remember what happened, refuse to dwell on the awfulness of it. Instead, magnify God and rejoice in His incredible grace. And let His grace motivate you to tell others about Him, so that they too can turn from their sins and be forgiven.

I don’t know what situation is burdening your heart. But I do know that God offers you forgiveness if you truly repent and turn to Him. I also know that He will redeem your memories so that they don’t cause you further pain but instead bless you with the opportunity to rejoice in His incredible grace. Why not run to Him right now? Let Him heal you. Let Him comfort your soul and set you free.

1 Corinthians 15:10—But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect.

Surpassing Grace

Megan Breedlove August 23, 2010 0 Comments

Most of the time, I think I tend to be a pretty patient mom. Even the kids will tell you that I’m usually patient. (“Yeah, you’re just crabby sometimes.”) Sometimes, being patient isn’t very hard. Other times—like when I’m tired or annoyed, or when I’ve had a long day—my patience wears thin. I can still vividly remember an incident when I was mad about something else, and poor Ellie (then about two years old) came up to me, trying to get my attention. “What!?” I snapped, totally out of line. Ellie burst into tears.

I immediately dropped to my knees and hugged her, apologizing more than once. “Mommy’s so sorry, Ellie,” I said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Will you forgive me?” She clung to me and said she would forgive me, but it took me much longer to forgive myself.

I had been completely ungracious and unloving in my response, and I felt terrible.

We’ve all been there. We’ve all yelled, or been impatient, or done something else that was uncalled for and hurt our precious child’s feelings, despite the fact that we love our children deeply and forever. Somehow, instead of offering grace, we’ve all delivered unkindness, whether our behavior is the exception to the rule or is, tragically, the rule.

I’m sure glad God offers me more grace than I sometimes offer my kids. When I think about what my life would be like if He only showed me the same measure of grace I show my children, I shudder. I don’t want His unkindness to be unpredictable or capricious—which it isn’t, because He’s never unkind. I desperately need His grace to be constant and overflowing, no matter what I do—which it is.

Even though I want to offer my children this kind of grace, I’ll probably never reach that goal this side of heaven. But I’ve learned that instead of berating myself when I mess up, or, worse yet, making excuses for my sin, I should use the occasions of my failure as reminders of God’s incredible grace to me. Yes, I absolutely should confess my sins against my children both to them and to God, and I should make every effort, under the Holy Spirit’s direction, to repent of my sins and treat my kids differently. But I should also take it a bit farther and allow my failures to turn me in humble gratitude toward the One Who never fails, despite the fact that I’ve sinned against Him far more than my children have sinned against me.

Will you do that with me? This week, when we treat our kids wrongly, let’s not only make it right, let’s thank God for being perfect in grace and abounding in mercy. Let’s ask Him to change our hearts to make us like Him in this way. And then, let’s go hug those precious children and pour out our love on them instead of our anger. After all, that’s how our Father treats us.

Matthew 18:32-33—“I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?”

A Bunny Did It

Megan Breedlove May 31, 2010 0 Comments

“Mommy! Jessica’s coloring herself purple!”

My five-year-old son announced the news at the top of his lungs. I froze in the midst of my kitchen clean-up duty. Into my mind flashed the memory of a purple marker, lying on the coffee table, which I’d passed by, intending to pick up later. It had been well within two-year-old Jessica’s reach.

“Where is she?” I asked Kenny.

“In the chair,” Kenny said, pointing to our new, leather recliner.

Visions of purple-striped tan filled my head, and I dashed into the living room. Jessica sat looking small in the midst of overstuffed comfort, a purple marker in one hand. Her right leg bore a single streak of purple marker. Her left leg had received the brunt of her artistry.

“Jessica,” I said slowly, in that I-know-what-you-did-so-you-might-as-well-admit-it voice—the one I imagine God used in the Garden of Eden after Adam and Eve sinned. “Did you color yourself purple?”

Jessica blinked at me. She looked down at the marker in her hand, then back up at me.

“No,” she said innocently.

“Jessica,” I said in a less forbidding voice, hoping that taking the pressure off would cause her to own up to the obvious truth, “you colored yourself purple, didn’t you?”

“No,” she said. “Well, I colored this one.” She pointed to the leg with the single marker streak.

“Somebody else colored the other one?” I asked.

“Mm-hmm,” she said, nodding her head all the way up and all the way down.

“Who colored it?” I asked.

“Umm…a bunny,” she said.

“A bunny colored your leg?”

“Yep.” Clearly, in her mind, that settled the matter, effectively absolving her of any guilt.

Later, my husband called from work, and I told him about the incident. “I caught her with the evidence,” I said later to my husband. “I took the marker from her hand, and she still lied to me.”

“There’s a devotion in that,” my husband said.

He was right.

Too often, we mommies do the same thing Jessica did. We try to find ways around our guilt.

Do any of these excuses sound familiar?

My husband failed to be sensitive when I was having a bad day already, we say, trying to justify our disrespectful words.

But I’ve told those kids a thousand times! we sigh, remembering our tone of voice that was much too harsh and loud.

We’re experts at trying to blame our guilt on others while expecting our husband and children to toe the line.

But you know what? We don’t fool anyone. Deep down, we know we’re guilty. Our family knows it, too. And our omniscient Creator certainly sees and knows.

We need to be willing to do the same thing I wanted Jessica to do—the same thing we all want our children to do when caught in some act. We need to confess to our Father—without excuses and without playing the blame game—that we’ve sinned.

Yes, there may be consequences for our actions. But we will also find, as Jessica would have found, forgiveness and a loving embrace. Remember that Jesus came, not to condemn us, but to save us. God isn’t waiting for us to confess just so He can zap us with lightning. He wants to hear our words of repentance so He can cleanse us and restore our relationship with Him—so that we can start anew.

We may not get to play with the purple markers anymore. But there are many things to do that are more fun anyway.

1 John 1:9—If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to purify us from all unrighteousness.

John 3:16—For God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved.

Forgiveness…Again

Megan Breedlove February 8, 2010 0 Comments

My just-turned-two-year-old daughter, Jessica, enjoys dressing up. She likes to put on several necklaces from the dress-up closet, plus maybe a hat and a purse. She also seems to have particular ideas about which shoes she wants to wear, even when she’s just wearing regular clothes.

One of her favorite pairs of shoes is a black, slip-on shoe with a very low heel and pink flowers across the top of her foot. A few days ago, she was wearing them while walking around our kitchen. She came closer to me to check out what I was doing, and then she pushed herself in between me and the counter and went past me. In the process, she stepped on my foot.

“Ouch,” I said, because I wasn’t wearing any shoes, and she actually hurt me a little bit.

“Sorry, Mommy,” Jessica said.

“I forgive you,” I said. Again, I added mentally.

There are times in the course of our day when Jessica does something that hurts me, mainly because she is only two and doesn’t always realize when something she does will hurt someone. Because she is the extremely polite child that she is, she always says, “Sorry, Mommy.”

“I forgive you,” I always say. But lately, we had gone through this routine several times, because Jessica had accidentally done several minor things that caused me brief moments of pain or discomfort. I was tired of having to forgive yet again.

We should be very glad that God never gets tired of extending forgiveness to us. When we come before Him, repentant, asking His forgiveness, He always responds the same way: “I’ve already forgiven you,” He says. “My Son paid the price for your forgiveness when He died on the cross.”

One of Satan’s favorite deceptions is to try to make us think God doesn’t want to forgive us. How could God forgive you? he whispers in our ear. Look at what you did. Look at all the things you’ve done.

But you can’t out-sin God’s grace. No matter what you’ve done, no matter when, or why, or how many times, God can and will forgive you when you come to Him repentant.

Isn’t that amazing? Despite all the sins we committed before we became Christians, despite all the sins we committed afterward, and despite those we’ll commit in the future, God still loves us and still forgives us.

He doesn’t forgive us because we deserve it. He does so because of grace, because He loves us and has accepted His Son’s sacrifice as payment for our sins. You and I are already forgiven because Someone paid the price.

If you don’t know that Someone, or what He’s done for you, I encourage you to check out the “How to Know God” section of this website. Don’t wait to get acquainted with the One Who died so that you could truly live.

Those of us who do know that Someone should spend time meditating on the immensity of His incredible grace toward us. We should marvel at it. May we never take something so incredible for granted.

Instead, may we make our lives unceasing offering of gratitude for the amazing gift we’ve been given.

1 John 1:9—If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to purify us from all unrighteousness.

Matthew 18:21-22—Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”

Lifter of My Head

Megan Breedlove February 1, 2010 0 Comments

Recently, our local football team, the Dallas Cowboys, lost in the playoffs to the Minnesota Vikings. The score was 34-3. It wasn’t even close.

Several times during the game, it looked like the Cowboys would pull ahead. But ultimately, they lost, and lost badly.

It must have been a particularly disappointing loss for Tony Romo, the quarterback. In a game when he should have been at his best, Romo wasn’t. His stats were disappointing, and he was sacked six times. He knows he is capable of better. Everyone else knows it, too.

Though the loss certainly wasn’t Romo’s fault alone, I bet he assigned himself a significant percentage of the blame. At least, looking at the picture on the next-day paper’s front page, it looks like he did.

In that picture, Romo is walking down a ramp that leads beneath the bleachers to the locker room. As he approaches the tunnel, there are fans on either side and fans in front of him who are sitting above the tunnel. Romo is walking with his shoulders looking as slumped as they can in that protective padding, his head down. His posture says that he’s taking it hard, and the headline agrees: Defeated, dejected.

Romo’s not the only person who stands out in this picture, however. There’s one more, a fan to Romo’s right, leaning over the railing with his arm and hand extended down, reaching out to Romo. Many other fans in the picture are doing the same thing. But what makes this fan stand out is the look on the young man’s face.

He’s not smiling. He’s not calling out to Romo. He wears a quiet, solemn look.

The difference between him and all the others is that this young man looks like he’s reaching out to offer Romo support, rather than to enjoy the privilege of slapping hands with a famous football player.

I could be completely wrong about this man. Maybe he was starstruck. Maybe all he wanted was the brief contact with fame.

Or maybe he really was reaching out to offer Romo support. Maybe he was reaching out his hand to say not I want a piece of you but Hey. It’s okay, man. You’re still great.

I’ll never know how he really felt because I don’t know who he is, so I can’t ask him. But I do know Someone who does respond that way in the face of someone else’s dejection and failure.

Our God responds like that. He sees us hurting, and He stretches out His hand, or wraps His arms around us, and says, It’s okay. I still love you.

Just as the fan must have been well aware that the Cowboys had just lost, God is well aware of when we’ve failed. If our failure involves sin, He doesn’t minimize that. But He does reassure us that whatever the circumstances of our failure, whether sin, mistake, or inability, He still loves us.

Looking at the picture, I thought about Romo looking up and seeing the fan’s outstretched hand, and I realized that it was a beautiful illustration of how God lifts up our heads.

When we look down at our feet, we see only our sins and failures and feel only the crushing weight of shame and disappointment. But when we look at Him, our heads are lifted, and we can see and receive His comfort and love.

Are you looking down at your feet today? Is the weight of your failure so heavy that it’s bowing your shoulders?

Look up. Look up and see the comfort God offers you. If you need forgiveness, He offers that, too. Let His encouragement soak into your soul.

Yes, you have failed. So have I. But despite our failures, we are loved. So let’s no longer focus on the ugly way we feel, but on the beautiful way He feels. Rather than allowing our sin to be our shame, let’s allow Him to be our glory. May our heads and our hearts be lifted as we learn to look not to what we have done, but to what He has done for us.

Psalm 3:3—But thou, O LORD, are a shield for me; my glory, and the lifter up of mine head.

Oops

Megan Breedlove September 7, 2009 0 Comments

When she was twenty months old, my oldest daughter received a Fisher-Price Little People Noah’s Ark set for Christmas. My sister bought it for her, and she bought not only the original ark set, but also all the extra sets of animals that went with it. So Ellie wound up with the ark, a flag to go on top, and twelve pairs of animals.

The ark came in two pieces. The top piece included the little shelter on the upper deck of the ark, and the deck itself. The bottom piece was the “boat” part, into which Ellie could put all the animals. The two pieces clicked together, and they came apart by means of pushing a little catch under the upper deck. For a long while, Ellie had trouble getting the pieces apart so she could get the animals out.

One day, she brought me the ark, wanting me to open it for her. I pushed the little red button, and the pieces came apart. I handed them to her, loosened from each other but still put together in an ark shape, so she could have the pleasure of succeeding at taking the roof off by herself.

Only…she dropped it, and twenty-four animals spilled all over the floor. “Uh-oh,” Ellie said, and looked at me.

You’ve had that kind of moment—when your child looks at you, waiting for your reaction so that she knows how to react. I admit that I’ve blown it sometimes in those moments, but this time, I got it right. “Oops!” I said in a funny voice, making a silly facial expression. Ellie grinned, and the whole thing became funny.

How easily it could have been different. If I had sighed, and said, “Oh, Ellie,” with a disgusted tone in my voice, she probably would have cried. (Yes, I’ve done that before.) If I had said nothing and simply bit my lip, or maybe rolled my eyes, she would have known I was angry. (I’ve done that, too.) But this time, I reacted appropriately, recognizing the situation for what it was—an accident, and potentially funny—and handled it that way. That allowed Ellie to laugh, too, and we now have a good memory instead of a bad one.

Aren’t you glad God always reacts rightly to the things we do? He never overreacts. He never reacts inappropriately, such as becoming angry when anger isn’t the best response. He always responds in the way that is completely right, considering what it was we did, and how that fits into His plans for us.

God will know when what we did was an accident, and He will react appropriately. That means He won’t condemn us for it. He may need to teach us something so it doesn’t happen again, or He may want us to realize the seriousness of our mistake. But He won’t condemn us.

God also knows when what we do constitutes sin. He is well aware of it when we deliberately disobey and choose to do something we know full well we shouldn’t do. During those times, He also reacts appropriately, to secure our repentance and better conform us to the likeness of His Son. But He doesn’t condemn us.

What? Not even when we sin?

Not even then. You see, for those of us who are Christians, Someone has already been condemned for our sins. Instead of condemning us, which we would have richly deserved, God chose to condemn His perfectly righteous Son. In His holiness, God had to punish our sins. But in His infinite love and mercy, He chose to punish Jesus instead of us.

Friend, when you snapped at your children and deserved to be punished, God didn’t punish you, because He had already punished Christ in your place.

When you harbored resentment in your heart against your husband and deserved to be punished, you escaped punishment because Jesus already got what you had coming to you.

When you…well, fill in the blank with anything you’ve done, and realize that the reason God didn’t punish you for it was because Jesus already took what you deserved.

So if you’ve made a mistake…come to God. He won’t condemn you. He knows it was a mistake. He doesn’t expect you to be perfect, in the sense of never making an honest mistake.

If you’ve sinned…come to God. He still won’t condemn you. Why? Because all the condemnation you and I ever deserved, He heaped upon Jesus as Jesus was dying for us on the cross.

If you’ve sinned a LOT (and who of us hasn’t?)…if you think that God can never forgive you for one sin, or for many…if you just don’t know how to make life right anymore…if you’ve given up…come to God. Admit what you’ve done. (Remember, He already knows it anyway.) Tell Him you’re sorry. Then, receive His merciful, all-sufficient forgiveness. If you’ve never done this before, and you know you need to do it, there’s a section on this website, “How to Know God”, that can help you. Or call a pastor. Or a trusted friend who’s a Christian. Or e-mail me through this site. But get right with God today. It’s the only decision you can ever make that there’s no possibility of regretting.

Friend, will you allow me to pray with you now? Whether or not you’ve already accepted Christ? Whatever your sins may be, or have been?

Oh, precious heavenly Father, thank You. Thank You that you don’t give any of us what we deserve, but that instead, you shower us with your unlimited mercy. Thank you, precious Jesus, that you were willing to die in our place, taking the condemnation we deserved, so that we didn’t have to. Oh, Lord, if anyone reading this doesn’t know You, I pray that You will bring them to know You. I also pray for my precious sisters in Christ and ask You to encourage their souls with the truth of Your forgiveness and mercy. I thank You, and I praise You, for your kindness and goodness. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

Romans 8:1—Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

2 Corinthians 5:21—God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

1 John 1:9—If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to purify us from all unrighteousness.

Mommy Guilt

Megan Breedlove May 18, 2009 0 Comments

Most of us are generally confident that we’re good mothers. We know we’re not perfect, but we believe we’re doing a good job. We feel secure in our role and in the way we mother.

Sometimes, however, Mommy Guilt pushes security out of the way and takes over.

Mommy Guilt is that guilt we feel over not being the “perfect” mom—or over the possibility that we might have done something wrong or failed to do something right.

We want so badly to do this job well because the results matter so much. It’s easy for us to become consumed with wondering if we’ve done enough, and suspecting we haven’t. Mommy Guilt hurts, because not much feels worse than to think you have failed your child.

Granted, there are times we do wrong. If our wrongdoing involves sin, the Holy Spirit will not allow us to be at peace until we have repented. If we have made a mistake, we must correct it so it doesn’t happen again.

Mommy Guilt doesn’t result from actual wrongdoing. It arises from feared or imagined wrongdoing. It leaves us with a vague sense of being insufficient or not doing enough. It is viciously destructive. There are four reasons why.

First, Mommy Guilt doesn’t come from God. When the Holy Spirit prompts us to feel guilty, He always tells us what our sin has been. This appropriate guilt is not vague at all. It’s very specific. God’s goal for our lives is for us to be conformed to the image of His Son. He will not convict us without telling us what we are doing wrong and what we must do to begin doing right.

Second, Mommy Guilt is so damaging is that it causes us to do a worse job of parenting. When we feel guilty for being insufficient, we are focusing on ourselves and not our children. We may even make wrong decisions in an attempt to “make up for” the things we have done that we feel were insufficient.

Third, Mommy Guilt paralyzes us. It doesn’t free us to do a better job. Instead, it leaves us doubting ourselves and our abilities. We become afraid to move forward because we fear we’ll just make the problem worse.

Fourth, Mommy Guilt doesn’t even give us an accurate basis for feeling guilty. We wind up feeling guilty because we aren’t perfect or all-sufficient, when in reality, the only perfect, all-sufficient Person is God. Friend, you and I are not God, and praise Him that we don’t have to be.

So what can we do when Mommy Guilt tries to sink its hooks into us?

We can pray. We should ask God whether we really have done something wrong and if there is anything He wants us to correct. If the Holy Spirit doesn’t bring anything to mind, we should determine not to feel guilty. We may not be able to stop the devil from continually bringing up thoughts of our guilt, but we can certainly control whether or not we dwell on those and let them affect our lives. We can choose not to feel guilty unless God says that we are.

Next, we change our standards, from an unreachable standard of perfection to the standards God has for us. God’s standards are that we love Him first, and second love our child as ourselves. He does expect us to love Himself and our children with everything we’re capable of. But He also knows how He made us. He knows the challenges we face, and He doesn’t expect us to have every ability known to man (or woman) and exercise them all at the same time.

Finally, we move on. God knew our abilities and limitations, and He still blessed us with our children. He chose them for us. He wanted our children to have US—not some Super Mommy that doesn’t even exist. It doesn’t matter if another mommy drives a newer minivan or makes better birthday cakes. It’s okay. God chose you. You are what your children need.

May God bless us all with an extra sense of His acceptance this week. May we feel Him put His arms around us, as we do around our dear children, and tell us that He’s glad we’re their mommy.

2 Corinthians 2:18—And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.

Do-Over

Megan Breedlove August 18, 2008 0 Comments

“H, I, J, K, L, O…H, I, K…H, I, J, K, L, M, O…L, M, O, P….”

I sat next to my daughter on her bed as she did her best to sing me the Alphabet Song. I had sung her two songs from her book in place of a bedtime story, and now, she wanted to sing me one. Only…it wasn’t going smoothly.

“Q, R, X….”

She knew the song by heart, but she was struggling, index finger extended, to point to each letter in the book as she sang it. For some reason, she kept making mistakes, and each time she did, she would start over.

As I sat watching and listening to her struggle to do something she knew she should have been able to do, I was struck by the parallels to my life as a mom.

Sometimes, I make mistakes—repeated mistakes, even—on things I know I should be able to get right. I snap at the children. I hurry them along when I should stop and take time to look at that interesting rock. I punish them for things that aren’t wrong, exactly, just a result of being their age. Or, worse, I fail to hear the cry of their hearts and only hear their voices grating on my nerves, and I react.

Those times are when I wish I could have a do-over. You remember “do-overs” from childhood—those blessed opportunities where you got to pretend your mistake never happened and do the whole thing again, getting it right this time. Best of all, everyone else would pretend like your mistake never happened, too. After the do-over, you could proceed with an unblemished record and no negative effects to anyone.

Don’t you wish that as mommies, we could have do-overs? That when we do something we know we shouldn’t, we could be certain that the effects were permanently wiped away from our child’s precious spirit?

Friend, let me tell you something. You and I both know that what is said can’t be unsaid, and what is done can’t be undone. But praise God, we also know that in Christ, there are do-overs.

If you have acknowledged your sin to Christ and have repented of it, acknowledging Him as your Lord and Savior, then you have been given the biggest do-over of all. But it doesn’t stop there. Christ didn’t come to wipe away only the guilt for the sins we committed before being saved. He wiped away the guilt for later sins, too. If we repent of our sins—in other words, confess them and turn from them—God will forgive us. It’s another do-over. We can wipe the slate clean and start again.

As Ellie tried and tried again to get it right, she awarded herself as many do-overs as necessary. Finally, she did succeed. She got the whole alphabet right, all the way through. And then, you know what? She moved on. She didn’t condemn herself for not having gotten it right the first several times, or for needing—and using—do-overs. Instead, she simply kept “keeping on” until she accomplished what she knew she could do.

Why don’t we as moms do that? Why do we decide to condemn ourselves for not getting it right the first few times? True, sin is sin and should never be taken lightly. It should be repented of and confessed. But after that’s done, why stay there wallowing in guilt that no longer exists? Why not just move on—to the next day, the next opportunity, the next activity?

You know, the way we move on after sin in our lives will teach our children a lot about the God they will hopefully one day serve. If our children see us repenting of and confessing our sin, then moving on as if forgiveness is a reality, they will learn to do the same. If they see us living as if we are unforgiven, they will learn that forgiveness is nothing more than a “church word” that doesn’t apply to real life.

So the next time you get the letters out of order, before you try again, stop and confess your failure to God. Ask for his forgiveness. And then move on, towards the letter Z. With his help, you’ll make it through.

1 John 1:9—If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to purify us from all unrighteousness.

Romans 8:1—Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

The Rescue

Megan Breedlove June 23, 2008 0 Comments

One Spring day, my husband and I took our three children, then ages 4, 2½, and 1, to an arts festival downtown. It’s a free, annual festival that showcases a wide variety of types of art. Most people probably get to look at some of the art. Phil and I, due to having three such young kids, got to look at the concession stands. In fact, we were herding ourselves, our double stroller, and our four-year-old towards supper when we passed by a sewer drain. You know—one of those places where there’s a big hole under the curb that leads down to who-knows-where, and a slope from the street down towards the nonexistent curb so that rainwater can run off into the sewers. Ellie had been walking near the curb, and as we got close to the drain, I began to get nervous. I could just envision her falling into the drain. “Ellie, be careful,” I said.

She moved a scant few inches away from the drain and closer to me. “Why?” I could hear her asking in my head, because normally, she wants to know the reason for everything, how everything works, what will happen if something else happens, etc. Amazingly enough, she didn’t ask out loud this time, but she continued in my imagination. “Would I fall in?”

“You might,” I would say seriously, the tone of my voice just right so as to warn her to be careful but not to scare her unduly.

“How would I get out?” she would ask.

And I, demonstrating my motherly powers of reassurance, as well as of the ability to rescue her from absolutely anything, would reply, “I’d climb in and get you out.” And I imagined myself unhesitatingly sliding down into the sewer and rescuing my little girl, valiantly putting out of my mind the stench as well as thoughts of all kinds of bacteria, diseases, and who knows what else.

But then, I realized something. What I was proposing to do for my daughter, should she find herself trapped in sewage and darkness, unable to climb out, was just what Jesus did for us when we found ourselves in the same situation.

We were all trapped in the sewage (sin) of this world and of our lives, living in darkness, unable to climb out. So what did a loving father do? He sent His Son to climb down into the sewage with us and rescue us. Just as the stench of sewage would have assaulted my nostrils were I to climb in to rescue Ellie, so the stench of sin must have assaulted the nostrils of God as He came to this earth and began to live among us. But did He hesitate to climb in? No. He was willing to get Himself dirty in order to be able to wrap His arms around us and say, “I love you. And I’m your Way Out.”

Don’t misunderstand me: Jesus never sinned. As the Son of God, He was perfectly righteous and perfectly sinless. But He chose to live surrounded by sin, because He chose to live with sinners. Isn’t that amazing? In fact, what could be more astounding than the fact that God Himself, pure and holy, would climb into the sewer with us to get us out? He could have said, “Sorry. It’s your own fault you’re in there,” and left us to drown in our sin. But He didn’t. Why?

The answer is simple. First, He loved us. If Ellie had been in that sewer, the only way to show her my love that would have mattered to her would have been to jump in there with her and get her out. Nothing less would have convinced her I loved her. But saving her would have left no doubt in her mind for the rest of her life. Second, Jesus desired to bring glory to God. If I had slipped into the sewer to rescue Ellie and emerged with her, I would have been a hero. I probably would have gotten my name, picture, and story in the paper. People would have recognized my mother-love and admired my character. It’s the same with God. By loving and rescuing us who were caught in sewage, God makes Himself known to the world. He can be known as a hero. We now know His love and admire His character.

We’re out of the sewer. Nothing less than this rescue would have convinced us of God’s love. But His saving us should leave no doubt in our minds as to how much He loves us.

Meditate on that today. If you are a Christian, think about what God literally got Himself into so He could rescue you. Realize that you are no longer in the sewer. You are clean and secure in the arms of the One Who loves you most. Bask in that love. If you’re not a Christian—if you don’t know and love Christ—then call out to Him from the sewer. Let Him rescue you and clean you up. Your life will never be the same. And that’s a wonderful thing.

Colossians 1:13—He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.