Wednesday, April 3, 2013

failing.

The past few days have been major fails for me in many ways. I'm feeling icky, to start. Getting over a nasty cold…and other uncomfortables. And a tummy ache most likely from the amount of food I consumed over the weekend. Feeling heavy and greasy. Breaking out. Then Monday night I dropped my liquid foundation on the countertop five minutes before leaving for bible study and stained the front of my favorite shirt, cardigan and skirt in one fell swoop. (thankfully the stains came mostly out this yesterday evening)

Yesterday I was out of it still, time spinning too fast. Trying to work on costumes, feeling not the best, unable to get my hair and face under control. And our room looked like a pig sty. I lost it. Not verbally. I cleaned *everything* up…even the clothes and nastiness that wasn't mine. But I was complaining to myself. And then I snapped at Dad, who was just checking in. And Catherine, who didn't know what I was talking about. Deep down, it didn't really bother me that I was cleaning up. But I wasn't doing it as unto the Lord.

At all.

It was day of failure. I did not pass Go, did not collect to $200. Did not honor my Savior. Did not exercise self control. Or gentleness. Or patience.

It's spiritual attack, I know that. We just celebrated the resurrection of the Lord Jesus. It follows that our adversary is trying to disillusion us. 

But that's not an excuse. I've put the old man (girl) to death. How can I then live in the old way? But even when I fail, that's not the end of the story. It's because of that very story of resurrection that I can boldly claim this:
"If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." - 1 John 1:9
Today is a new day. Fresh. And we know His mercies are new every morning.

Holding onto that.

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