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)