As I headed out of the kitchen, trash bag in hand, my load suddenly felt lighter and my feet felt wet and sticky. Jabs of pain radiated down my thigh.

Earlier that day I had hastily tossed a broken wire hanger into the trash can. I didn't think it was a big deal, but apparently the metal stick landed in just the right spot to tear open the bag and simultaneously gash my leg.

I stood surveying the stinky mess that blanketed the floor I had scrubbed two hours prior. What was once pristine was covered in filth.

In that moment I did a lot of futile wishing.

I wished that I had never thrown that hanger away.

I wished that my leg wasn't throbbing.

I even wished that my name was Carol Brady and that a trusty housekeeper named Alice would clean up the mess for me.

But none of my wishing altered my reality. There was a big ugly mess on my kitchen floor and I was responsible for cleaning it up.

As I examine my life, I can recall many messes made in the corridors of my heart, spirit, and mind. Like the gunky monstrosity caused by the broken trash bag, some of my messes were created by my negligence, sins, and mistakes.

The mirror of my past reflects broken relationships damaged by insecurities, debt resulting from overspending, and angry tirades as I pursued perfection. Instead of cleaning up the messes as I made them, I spent years hiding my self-wreckage in a dark closet of blame and excuses.

There also have been times when I stood in a pile of garbage not of my own making. Verbal attacks, betrayal, and deception pummeled me just like the bag of trash splattered on my kitchen floor.

For years I felt that messes I didn't create on my own were not my responsibility. Moreover, I put those into a box labeled “victim,” hid them, and hoped that somehow they would disappear.

About two years ago I discovered a life-changing fact regarding the messes of life: the trash’s origin makes little difference at clean up time.

Refusing to clean a mess that someone else made or started to make doesn’t hide the smell. Stamping my feet and wailing, “It’s not fair,” may garner sympathy but it won’t rid the stain.

There are lots of things I can do with a mess. I can analyze it, call an expert to examine it, investigate its inception, and give it a fancy name like “dysfunctional matter.” I can even cleverly arrange a few pieces into abstract art.

In Joshua 1:5 God promises “I will never leave you or forsake you.” I’m glad I don’t have to go about my cleaning by myself; because when I do take that approach I just end up making a bigger mess.

Cleaning up with God isn’t always easy. He is thorough and the labor is exhausting but you had better believe the job is done right.

My Prince of Peace is beside me each step of the way brushing back my hair, holding the trash bag, and whispering “draw closer sweet one, you can do this. With me, you will see the beauty underneath this garbage. I promise.”

Regardless the heap’s depth, stickiness, or odor, it is cleanable. And there is no scent more fragrant than the distilling love of Christ.

July 9, 2009

My Great Brownie Debacle

Lysa TerKeurst

 "For though a righteous man falls seven times, he rises again, but the wicked are brought down by calamity." Proverbs 24:16 (NIV)

Devotion:

Rewarding. That's what this particular day was supposed to be, my shining-star day at my kids' school. Finally, I was going to get the "Really Good Mommy Award."

Not that this is an official award on a frame-worthy piece of fine linen paper. It is not. It's just a feeling--that feeling of getting a thumbs-up and acceptance nod that you are in fact doing an okay job as a mom.

I had volunteered to make 100 individually wrapped homemade brownies. And I was going to be completely fancy and use the turtle brownie mix that comes in a box.  That's as close to homemade as I get.

After baking all those brownies and allowing them to cool, I cut and lifted each one into the safety of its own little baggie and recruited my daughters to help me finish up. We bagged up brownies 95, 96, 97, and then a disaster of epic proportions occurred.

Nuts.

These turtle brownies had nuts in them. Lots of nuts. And there I was standing over individually wrapped brownie number 97 listening to my daughter's reminder that our school is, in fact, a peanut-free school.

My arms started flailing about as if to gather the pieces of my scattered brain and tuck everything back into place. I sent the kids out of the room and ate brownies 98, 99, and 100.

No shining star. No Really Good Mommy Award. No happy, proud kids elated with their mom's efforts.

I spent the rest of the day trying to process this great brownie failure. I saw it as a debacle that defined my motherhood journey. Grand visions that led to big messes that led to unmet expectations that heaped more and more guilt on my already slightly fragile motherhood psyche.

And that's exactly where Satan would have loved for me to stay. That's his daily goal, actually. If Satan can use our everyday experiences, both big and small, to cripple our true identity, then he renders God's people totally ineffective for the kingdom of Christ.

These were brownies for a school bake sale. And these brownies had somehow knocked me to the ground. I didn't want to smile. I didn't want to be kind. I didn't want to be a disciple for Christ that day.  Ever been there?

Satan wants us to entertain a very dangerous thought: "Why doesn't Jesus work for me?" This is never the right question. Instead, when circumstances shift and we feel like we fall short, we should ask, "How can I see Jesus even in this?"

The only way I can ask myself this question is when I pull back from whatever situation I'm facing and separate my circumstance from my identity.

Now let's state what is true. Despite my feelings, my identity stayed the same. I am a loving mom. I am a giving person. I am a woman who takes her responsibilities seriously. I am a daughter of the King. 

All of this is true despite my failures.  So, though I have a whole mess of extra brownies with nuts laying around and the school won't have any brownies for the bake sale today, this mishap doesn't define me.  The only thing this means is I need to read the bake sale instruction sheet a little more closely next time. 

That's it. It's simply a call to action not a call to condemnation.  And did you notice the response of the righteous man in the key verse above?  Though he fell time and again, he kept getting up.  May we do the very same thing.

Dear Lord, help me separate my circumstances from my identity.  Help me only determine my worth by Your truth and not my performance in any situation.  Thank You for looking at me not as I am, but how Jesus has enabled me to be. In Jesus' Name, Amen.

Related Resources:

Visit Lysa TerKeurst's blog to register to win 4 copies of her new book "Becoming More than a Good Bible Study Girl" which will help you apply God's truths to your everyday situations.

This devotion was excerpted from Lysa's soon to be released book, "Becoming More Than a Good Bible Study Girl."  To pre-order your copy, click here.

What Happens When Women Say Yes to God by Lysa TerKeurst

The Bathtub is Overflowing but I Feel Drained by Lysa TerKeurst

Application Steps: 

Write down a failure you've experienced lately.  What is a truth from God's Word that can help you?  Write down 2-3 verses you find particularly encouraging in your area of struggle.

Reflections: 

Have I let a failure define my worth lately?  How might I separate my identity from my circumstance? 

Power Verses:

Romans 9:15-16, "'I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.'  It does not, therefore, depend on man's desire or effort, but on God's mercy." (NIV)

Hebrews 4:16, "Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." (NIV)