Mistakes

Ugh.  That pit in my stomach is my twentieth reminder today.  I messed up. 

Everyone makes mistakes.  Accidents happen.  I know these are cliche statements for a reason, but still, I find that I hash and re-hash what I could have done differently to change the circumstances that occurred, even though, in the grand scheme of life, this mistake is a very small one.  The details of the specific incident don't matter so much; what is making me crazy is how ever-present it is in my mind, crowding out other important things to be mulled over today. 

What I also notice is how panicked I get when I feel like I'll be found out, exposed as someone who fails sometimes.  It's a fear that urges me to cover up, to be less-than-honest, to layer one badness on another.

Sometimes I forget that God knows our humanity better than we do.  He is not surprised when we fail.  His expectation of my failure lead to His death for on my behalf hundreds of years before I existed.  I, however, tend to be shocked at each piece of evidence that I am human, that I am susceptible to all manner of absent-mindedness in important situations and the ever-present temptation to do the easy thing instead of the right thing.  And I wish I could say it's not true, but it is: more often that I'd like to admit, the easy thing wins.

So there's my confession.  I am not who I want to be.  I am in desperate need of a Savior.  It seems too easy to just drop the self-flagellation and accept the forgiveness that has already been purchased for me, but it's just what I need. 

Accidents happen, and love covers a multitude of sins.  Another truism.  I'll take it.