I'm Not Who You Think I Am....

Sweeping my floor, I think to myself:

"What's the point? Why do I even bother trying to clean up this mess?   It's just gonna be here again after dinner."

And the Lord said:
 "I know.  But ya gotta clean it up anyway, Amber."

Not the floor.  My life.  The mess inside myself.  The mess that I am.

I'm humbled..... Something so little, and mundane, and the Lord uses it to speak to me.

But the clean up that He's telling me to deal with isn't so little.  Nope.  It's huge.  And like a toddler, I want to throw myself on the floor, kicking and screaming "BUT I don't want to!!!!"
Me and my stubborn-ness keeps trying to convince myself that I need to just leave the pile of CRAP laying on the floor- walk away from it and search for a big-fat-rug to cover it up so I can just move on with my life.

And this thought-process, and 'action' in my life makes me feel like I'm "all talk".  Nobody knows who I really am!  I say it, I believe it, but it's so stinkin' hard to live it.


I feel like I'm not who anybody thinks I am.

I'm nothing!  There are times that I take a hard look at myself in the mirror and believe every-single-lie that the enemy punches and kicks inside my gut.
"You're worthless.  You're absolutely worthless.  What have you accomplished?  Nothing!  You're a terrible friend.  A disgusting Christian.  You're daughters are going to hate you when they grow up.  You're marriage is fruitless.  Give up, Amber.  Give up.  Walk away from all of it."

So I begin to convince myself that I suck, and that everybody that knows me has had the wool completely pulled over their eyes.    "They don't know me like I do.  They don't see how I really am."

Part of me wants to alienate myself from the world so as not to fool them of my wickedness.  The thoughts that take over, and that I try to shove out of my head---  sometimes I fear that one day- someone is going to be able to read my mind, and then they'll know... they'll know every-single-one of my struggles.

They'll know, and I'll be put up in front of my peers, and everyone that loved me, and used to care about me will look me up and down with distaste on their lips, and they'll all suddenly have on black robes, and judges wigs, and each one of their gavels will pound down in one harsh crash, and they'll shout "GUILTY!!!"
"She's GUILTY.  She is worthless.  She's a terrible mother. (POUND)  She disregards the truth (POUND!)  She wants to give in to temptation. (POUND)  Pound.  Pound.  Pound.

GUILTY.

I'm guilty.  And I know I am.  But nobody else can see it.
And I want them to- and I don't want them to.  I want to be 'found out', but I don't want to be.   I want to be who I am, but absolutely nothing like myself.

And I'm guilty. And I know I am. But my Savior says otherwise.

He walks in with a blood stained robe.
And a crown of thorns atop his matted head.
He walks in with a sword in His side, and bruises all over His body.  His foot prints soak the floor, and His cross lands on the floor with a thunderous roar and authoritively He says "She's innocent."

 Innocent!??!?!  I'm NOT.  I'm not.  I'm NOT innocent.  I'm guilty.  I'm not who You think I am.....

But He knows exactly  who I am.  God sees my wicked heart, for sure- but JESUS jumps inside it, and He pleas on my behalf   "Daddy, she's innocent.  See this blood (as He holds out His hands).  I bled for her.  She's innocent, Daddy.  Pure, and beautiful, and perfect, and WORTHY.  She's innocent.  I have her heart- she gave it to me freely."

And I'm back to the mess, and the kicking and screaming I'm doing on the floor.  I don't wanna clean it up!  I want to walk away.  I have to fight against my flesh to pursue the clean up.

I don't have to clean it up alone.  I don't have to clean it up with judges looming over me.  I don't have to clean it up with gavels pounding in my ear.

 I get to clean it up with a mighty Purifier at my side.  

I'm not anything like who anybody thinks I am.
And I'm nothing like who He says that I am.  I wanna be everything like who He made me to be.
Off I go in search of a middle ground.