Born to Make Mistakes

Okay, I'm showing my age here because the song, "I'm Only Human," by the Human League is rolling through my head. Thus, my title. And while the song brings back peaceful memories of my youth, really, the most frustrating part of life is that I am human. I make mistakes. Sometimes they're intentional ("I know I shouldn't do this, but..."). Sometimes they're unintentional ("I want to do the right thing...") But whatever my intentions, they're still mistakes. And the older I get, the more obvious they become.

I remember the optimism of youth. In my late teens and early twenties, I believed that I could straighten up if I only wanted to. My philosophy was that if my behavior only hurt me, I could live with that. My limit stopped at the point where I thought I might be hurting someone else.

I was such a fool.

Becoming a parent opened my eyes. Young people, listen closely. Whatever hurts a child, hurts a parent. No matter what age you are, if your parents are living, you are a child. Recently, a precious older lady that I knew from church died. I didn't know she was close to death and didn't find out about her condition until after her funeral. It brings tears to my eyes, even tonight, because I wish I'd had one more time to speak with her. To pray with her. To reassure her that I would continue to pray after she was gone... for her daughter. This sweet lady, who must have been around 80 or older, was heartbroken because her daughter had made bad choices and was suffering the consequences of her decisions. As of our last conversation, her daughter was still making bad decisions. My friend worried over what would happen to her daughter when she was gone and felt that she had failed her as a mother. She suffered because a person she loved suffered.

At twenty, I made decisions recklessly because I was self-absorbed and couldn't see beyond myself. I didn't want to hurt strangers and casual friends, but I didn't give a thought to the hurt I caused the people who loved me most. I took those who loved me for granted. And I thought I was strong enough to change whenever I felt I was ready.

And, again, becoming a parent taught me otherwise. Because I had a child, an innocent, I had to change. Every little decision of mine affected him. I may have been willing to play fast and loose with my own future, but I couldn't be that way with his. The kind of man he would become depended in part on the kind of woman I was, and I had to fix that.

The joke was on me.

Because I couldn't fix it.

In fact, the harder I tried to make things right, the worse they became. I couldn't control my temper. I couldn't control my emotions. I couldn't eliminate my fear. I had limits, and for the first time in my life, I was forced to confront them. It was easy to think I could do anything I wanted when I had never actually tested myself. Being self-indulgent is easy. Being self-disciplined requires constant diligence. Becoming self-disciplined when you've been self-indulgent practically requires an act of God.

It did for me.

When I tried to straighten up my life, I realized I was broken. It wasn't a simple realization. I didn't wake up one day and think to myself, "I don't know how to make good decisions." I made what I thought were good decisions and watched them fall apart one by one. The more they fell, the harder I tried. The harder I tried, the harder they fell. I thought I knew how to make life work, but things just didn't go the way I planned. At the end of the day, all my careful thoughts, planning and work just weren't enough. I wasn't enough. The day I realized I was broken was the day I understood that my marriage was falling apart, my worst fears were being realized, and I was about to become a single mom of two boys.

But I wasn't done.

I gave it one last shot. I turned to Jesus. What did I have to lose? I was losing everything anyway. My way didn't work and I didn't want to raise my boys without their dad. Jesus said to treat others the way you want to be treated. I did. Jesus said that in his kingdom if you want to be the greatest then you must become the servant of all. I did. Jesus said not to return insult for insult. I didn't. If someone asks for your shirt, give him your coat, too. I did. And I came to a decision. Whatever it took, I would do it. If setting a good example for my boys and raising them the best way I could took me suffering and sacrificing until I was an old lady, I... would... do... it.

And then God performed a miracle.

He opened my husband's eyes so that he could see me. He saw the changes I made and he saw my heart. And he became willing to meet me where I was.

Jesus did not come to hang out with perfect people. He came to change our hearts so that we could love each other even though we aren't perfect. We forgive so that we can love. We can't love if we can't forgive.

I learned how to love another person by reading the words of Jesus, but I didn't stop there. When I kept reading, I was in for a great surprise. The Bible is the story of a bunch of broken people. Every hero of the Bible was human and made mistakes. Big mistakes. Some of those mistakes resulted in hatred between brothers that lasted generations. Others resulted in pain that lasted only one lifetime. Some were only the weakness of a season of life that left that "hero" changed in some way or allowed God to act as Healer.

"For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through the endurance taught in the Scriptures and the encouragement they provide we might have hope." Romans 15:4

I'm a parent now. And my "children" aren't only those I've given birth to. People have come into my life that have become a part of who I am and I love them. When they hurt, I hurt and when they are happy, I am happy. If there's one thing I wish I could give to everyone I love, it is the hope that I have. Life isn't easy and I still make mistakes. But they don't break me now. I have a rock solid foundation. "We are hard-pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." (2 Corinthians 4:8-11) When I reach my limits and I'm at the end of my strength, I find there is strength still in me. This is the gift of God. He never leaves us. When I hit bottom, I find a rock there. When all else is gone, I cannot be moved. I feel like what's on the outside of me is soft and easily bruised and hurt, but what's on the inside is solid, heavy, and indestructible.

Alone, we are only human. But with God, we are more than human. And mistakes are learning experiences, not life-ending experiences. With God, our weaknesses make us stronger and His strength is revealed in us. "I can do all things through Christ, who gives me strength." (Philippians 4:13)

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life and have it abundantly." -Jesus (John 10:10)

By It, I Can See Everything Else

At 14, I walked out of the Eye Doctor's office in sheer amazement: I could see the leaves on the trees and the cracks in the road. I remember riding home in the car staring at the road, watching it go by, catching sight of cracks, seeing something that had always been there, but that I had never seen in my everyday life for the 14 years of my existence.

The next day, when I went to school, I could see people walking far across the courtyard and easily recognize them. I had recognized them before I had glasses, of course. I had managed to adapt wonderfully and learned to recognize people by the way they moved and by their body shape. I didn't need to see details to know what I was looking at. In fact, I had adapted so well that I didn't even know I needed glasses.

Well, that statement may not be completely accurate. I had tried on my dad's glasses when I was twelve and seen more clearly, so I knew in the back of my mind that I had problems with my vision. But, I had no idea of the scope of what I was missing. I performed well in all of my classes and, to my knowledge, my vision didn't prevent me from doing any of the activities that I was interested in doing. I coped very well and relied more heavily on my sense of smell and hearing to tell me what my eyes could not.

In short, I thought I was getting along fine. I didn't have a clue what I was missing because I couldn't conceive of its existence. I could see the leaves shimmering magically in the distance, even though I couldn't see the crisp tremblings of the leaves. I could see the variations in color on the road, like pebbles under the surface of murky water, but I couldn't see the cracks and outlines. I could see the forest, but I couldn't see the trees... and I didn't even know they could be seen.

"I believe in Christ like I believe in the sun - not because I can see it, but by it, I can see everything else." This quote is attributed to C. S. Lewis. I bring it up because I remember another day where I was riding home in the car staring in amazement. Once again, I was seeing things I never knew existed. But I wasn't staring at the road and looking at cracks, I was staring at everything I looked upon. For the second time in my life, a vision impairment I didn't know I had was lifted from my eyes and I saw more clearly. But, the first time the impairment was physical, this time, it was spiritual.

People want proof that God exists. But how do you prove to someone who thinks he, or she, can see fine that they have vision problems unless you put glasses on that person? And God is spiritual glasses. My second restoration of sight was not less stunning than my first. In fact, it was greater because if affected more than just what my eyes could see. You might be asking yourself if my vision, my physical sight was really affected that day that I truly knew God for the first time. And my answer to you is, yes! I can't explain it except to say that colors grew more distinct and bright, and the world regained an amazement for me that I hadn't felt since I was a young child first learning about the wonders of my world. Do you wonder why some Christians are so adamant about their faith, even in the sight of what seems to be overwhelming evidence against God's existence? It's because we have had real proof. I can't share that kind of proof with you, except to tell you about it. But, that doesn't make it any less real. Until you put on God's "glasses", you have no idea what I'm talking about; but, other Christians do.

And, I said that this second restoration of sight affected more than just my physical vision, and that's true and tangible, too. The relationship of everyone and everything to everyone and everything else took on entirely new meaning. That day, you became much more precious to me. Why do Christians persist in trying to share their God with you? Why won't they quit when no one wants to hear what they have to say? Why are they sometimes willing to die to share what they call the "Good News" with the very people who want to kill them? It's because we see you with new eyes and a new heart. It's because we know how precious you are. It's because we know what our life was like without these new eyes and the most selfish and hurtful thing we could possibly do would be to keep this to ourselves and refuse to share the incredible Gift we've been given. If I give everything else I own away to the poor and spend my life serving those who can't take care of themselves, but withhold this knowledge of God for myself, then my life has been meaningless.

Put on the glasses. Accept the gift. Live a life of great meaning.

"You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart." - Jeremiah 29:13