I guess the first person I’m doing on thankful thursday is Jesus.
That is the most churchy thing I have ever thought.
I’m the most thankful for jesus?
WHAT. A. LIE.
I mean seriously. If I’m at church and we list out what we’re thankful for, of course I will say Jesus, that’s what you’re supposed to say.
But what does my life actually represent? That I’m thankful for my friends, Pinot Noir, the internet, and the occasional worship song. Dangit. I did it again. I lied.
I love worship songs…I love them deeply, I mean they really move me but I actually only included it in that list so I would seem better. I am constantly trying to SEEM better. Make my life look prettier. I. Hate. My. Mess.
And in all honesty, that really is where mercy comes into play. Over the past 3 years, I have encountered some of the deepest and darkest sins that I hope I will ever encounter (sweet Jesus please let this be the worst of it) and I have maintained a pretty brave face about it. I thought, if I don’t face where my life sucks, well hey no one will either!
I also didn’t want to face the consequences.
In 2008, I broke my collarbone. I broke that baby bad. So badly in fact that while most people’s collarbones heal on their own, I had to have a metal pin put in mine. Well my nasty, broken, mangled, collarbone had been broken completely and the separated bones got used to their place in my body I suppose. I suppose this because when they put me back together, it was worse than the accident. It hurt so bad that I threw up immediately when I woke up, I don’t think I stopped crying/whimpering/hurting for two weeks straight. It was constant pain, I couldn’t even sleep with that stupid pin that they had put in me. Everything hurt. And it hurt for a very long time.
Dealing with our dark parts is so often like my surgery. We are used to our life, we are used to our pain, and we are probably even numb to the way it has affected us. Surgery sucks. It’s painful, it’s scary, and it’s unpredictable. You don’t always know how it will turn out. But with Jesus, we always know what will happen.
We will get free. He promises us that over and over again.
His grace is what brings me home and His mercy is what brings me to my knees.
His grace gave me eternal life when there was truly nothing I could do to earn it and His mercy saved me from myself and my consequences (death) when that’s what I deserved.
Mercy just wrecks me. It tears me open and makes me weep. I do not understand the depths of it.
So often I feel so much more like Hosea’s prostitute than Mordecai’s Esther.
I don’t feel like a freaking princess, I feel like a WHORE.
I mean that’s what I’ve done, right? Abused the grace God has given me and used it for my own pleasure?
Mercy is defined as “kindness or good will towards the miserable and the afflicted, joined with a desire to help them.”
He meets us where we are. He’s joining WITH us.
He picks up our broken pieces and holds them all together. He wants every ugly, dirty, malicious, part of me. He wants the me that is ashamed of who I am, the me who is an addict, and the me who is completely worthless on my own. He wants all of it.
So yeah, seeing my sin SUCKS. When that definition says miserable and afflicted, I’m all “THAT’S ME.” Recognizing where I’ve screwed up sucks so freaking bad. But it also brings up mercy.
It brings up this beautiful place where I am not held back by what I’ve done and where I am free do what I can do. I am free to just be me because Jesus has already done the rest.
So Jesus takes me in. The addict, the cusser (loling at the fact that all christians cuss but we act like we don’t), the gossip, the sass, the everything and He loves it. He loves me.
So today I’m really thankful for mercy. Thankful for a judge that could have sentenced me to death but for some reason (that I will spend my entire life trying to believe), He didn’t. Because He loves me. A lot.