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My Failings
Fiona Keller • August 4, 2020
The sum of who I am?
Hi there. It's great to see you. Care to join me on the porch? It's sunny and warm today: fuel for the soul. A good place to do some thinking.
Do you ever find that the mistakes you make, feel like the poster board for your life? I know I do. Last night, as my kids were falling asleep in bed, I sat in the space between their rooms, flicking through my phone. Catching up on news articles, emails, messages, social media. All of a sudden I became aware of just how disengaged I’d been through the whole bedtime routine. How I’d read and reread the same things, mindlessly hoping for something new to appear. I became aware of what I must look like to my children, as they try to get my attention or lay there watching me from their beds. I chastised myself for the fact that they weren’t seeing me pouring over Scripture or even reading a book. They weren’t seeing me writing a letter or a journal or engaged in any number of creative outlets that I could have found to fill my time. They didn’t see me with my head bowed in quiet prayer. No, they saw me staring at a screen and ‘reading the news’....let’s be honest, mostly reading people’s posts on Facebook. Beyond that, they’ve heard me time and again ‘justifying’ my use of my phone. ‘If I don’t read this I won’t know what’s going on in the world, if I don’t text back then that person won’t get their answer (meanwhile I’m ignoring or halfheartedly answering my kids questions and needs.) I’d be lying if I said this problem only started a couple of months ago, but it didn’t. It’s been an ongoing battle in my life for quite some time. Escapism, if I’m honest. But it’s definitely become much much worse in recent weeks.
I’d been living with an undercurrent of guilt about it, but that turned into a wave. As is so often the case, feeling a sense of guilt about one thing opens up the box of all my failings. It’s a box that I keep under lock and key in a dark corner of my mind. Truth be told, I’ve emptied that box out a few times over the years, but it does tend to fill up again. Sometimes, I even find things in there that I thought I’d thrown away. Little remnants of guilt and failings, like tattered fabric pieces in a sewing box. The scraps. Nevertheless enough of a memory jogger to send me down memory lane, reminding me of where I have gone wrong before. I can see them laying there and as I ponder this new sense of failing, I realise I must do something with it. I can add it to the box to save for later or I can deal with it now. I can let it add to the undercurrent or I can choose to wash them away.
Sometimes, I think our failings serve a purpose and our remorse is justified - when it leads to conviction and repentance. When we become aware of something we shouldn’t have done and we use it to propel us into a better path. We may not be able to undo our choices, but we can find freedom to live through the consequences without hauling a boat load of guilt with us. Sometimes, it’s hard to acknowledge our failings in the first place. It's much easier to push them aside and try to get on with life. After all, they so often lead to guilt and shame- and who wants to feel those? The angry moments, the unkind words, the spiteful actions, the times when I couldn’t be bothered to give my best, the occasions when I ignored my kids, when I disrepect my husband, when I didn’t reply to that friend who really needed to talk. Those times when I didn’t engage in the present but looked to escape, to dwell in an imaginary future. When I intentionally decided to watch TV instead of pray. When I chose to read the social media feed for an hour instead of my Bible. Oh the list could go on. Some tiny and some monstrously large. Nevertheless things with which I've missed the mark.
The trouble is when these things stack on top of each other - when my little box is stuffed to overflowing with scraps and new pieces are added daily, I start to feel like they are the sum of who I am. I fully believe that is not a place that we are meant to be. I do believe the Lord convicts us when necessary, I have experienced that for myself. However, I know we’re not meant to find our value, worth or identity wrapped up in those failings. Guilt may make me feel like I am the sum of all my failings, other people may even lead me to believe this too, but TRUTH tells me I am not.
When the waves wash over me, truth declares I am forgiven. When the box of scraps is full and overflowing, truth says bring it to me. When memories of the past flood my very being, truth says you are free. Be reminded, dear friend, that we are not the sum of our past mistakes nor can we ever be. We are who He says we are. We are not perfect, but we are loved. Loved enough that the King of the universe decided that our lives were worth the death of His son. Our lives held value enough that God would leave perfection and come to join us in this broken place we call home. Our future was of such importance that God didn’t leave us to fumble through this life without direction, He came, He taught and He teaches. Our thoughts, our prayers and concerns are so treasured that He listens and answers. That He bridged the divide that separated us from Him. He told us we could come and dwell with the Holy of Holies. The curtain was torn in two.
So in the times when I am tempted to believe that all I am is the sum of all my failings. I will look up and see the lies, the opinions, the guilt for what they are. I will try to make better choices. But above all else, I will remember the blood that poured out so that the sum of who I am is found in Him.
Father, I thank You for these man-made shells, which become our homes as they fill with noise and laughter, silence and tears, memories and hopes. I thank You for their protection, for the safety found within. I thank You for the life that grows surrounded by these walls; a place we make our own. Amen
When complaints often come easier than thanksgiving - I thank you Father for these dishes, which signify food and drink aplenty. I thank You for each mouth that partook of meals together. Amen
Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance. Jude 1:2 Most gracious and loving Heavenly Father, I thank You for You have sustained me through this school year. I thank You for Your provision of strength and energy even on the hardest of days. I thank You for walking with me on the mountain tops: the moments of joy, the times of bonding and fellowship, the times when the learning and the teaching came easily. I thank You for journeying with me through the valleys. On the days I wanted to give up. During times of frustration and grumblings. On the days when learning was hard and teaching even harder. I thank You that I never left the shadow of Your wings and that You have seen me, valued me and noticed me as I have sought to lead and serve my family in this way. Lord, we are nearing the end of this season and oftentimes feel the increasing need for rest, for reprieve and refueling. Some days Lord, it feels like summer will never come. And yet some days time flies and I become aware again of the limited time I have with these dear ones whom I am not only tasked with teaching, but also with parenting and loving. Father, it is my desire to finish well. That we will not succumb to wishing away the time together, nor give in to half-hearted efforts put forth. Help us to find balance between being present in the here and now and thinking ahead to plans for the summer and next school year May You continue to be the source of my daily strength and joy. Remind me of my calling to teach during this season and equip me each day to face challenges with grace, love, humor and humility. Renew my spirit and uplift me as I seek to lead these children towards You, keeping my mind focused and my heart seeking You above all else. In Jesus' name Amen