Last week was bad.
Not the kind of bad you can blame on a broken dishwasher or a stubbed toe or someone else.
It was a week filled with me, failing.
I wasn't a great Mom or a good wife. I yelled too much and didn't listen enough. I was short-tempered and impatient and just generally unhappy.
Sure, I can come up with excuses that might justify some of my behavior. But I had a choice how to handle my frustrating week.
And I failed.
It hurts to admit it.
We live in a world that doesn't like failure. It's ugly and messy. Our world wants perfection: Perfectly manicured people who never mess up.
And when you do fail, there are always a handful of people to point it out, especially in the church. Just think about the pastors and TV evangelists who've suffered a public fall. It makes us uncomfortable.
Failure makes us want to cover it up, to excuse it. Failure makes us want to run away.
But we were created to fail.
When I cut my hand chopping veggies in the kitchen, the blood in my body rushes to the wound. That's what it was created to do. Our blood was designed to wash out the impurities and clot to protect us.
And when I fail as a parent or a wife or a person, His Blood goes to my injured heart. It rushes to the place I hurt. Because that's what it was created to do.
He is there to wash away my regret and my sin.
When I fail.
Food for the Soul:
1 John 1:7 "But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin."
(thanks to my Pastor who inspired this post from his sermon)
