Yesterday, I pegged a bottle of sparkling water at my shopping cart. I lost it. After battling the running-of-the-bulls (aka. mothers at Target) pushing to grab glue, paper and alcohol (aka. hand sanitizer), I lost it. After standing in a 7-person deep line, making it to the front, only to be informed the lane was close, I lost it. After seeing said-cashier, roam around aimlessly with nothing to do, I lost it. After dealing with two toddlers who were sleep and food-deprived screaming gymnasts in my cart, I lost it. After contrapting them safe into their car seats, only to find a security device still wrapped around my sons newly-purchased USB headphones, I lost it. After opening the trunk and being pegged by bags and bottles of water that wouldn’t stop rolling down the parking lot. I. REALLY. Lost. It.
I. Threw. Things.
I tried to ruin a cart with canned water.
Today, it happened again. The moving truck said he’ll be late – by 2 days. 48 hours of whoops-we-scheduled-you-wrong. How does that happen?
I banged my head. I caught a cold. I blasted people. Was it their fault? It didn’t matter.
I was at my wits end. Wits end is the place where you are convinced your life could end if you continue on this warpath.
Here:
1.) Everyone is enemy.
2.) Peace is as lost as your once-rational mind.
3.) Anguish, anger and annoyance beat up inanimate and intimate object alike.
After you act bad enough, you say,
“Why am I losing it? I’m supposed to be Christian,
not a woman of demolition!”
Shame settles.
There were about 10 instigators that got me to this point. People who knew the wrong word to speak, arguments that bubbled, fears that seemed as prevalent as Zika mosquitos. I hadn’t been bitten, but was already dying.
I wonder what Jesus thinks of me when I lose it?
I know God says be slow to anger. Ja. 1:19
I know God says anger lands in the laps of fools. Ec. 7:9
I know God says to rid yourself of anger. Col. 3:8
But, I also know, Jesus didn’t die to demand absolute-perfection,
but to cover ever-abounding weakness (with his perfection).
In Jesus’ time, there were perfect-looking ones.
Take a look at how Jesus talked to these types: “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean.“ Mt. 23:27
I suppose, what is comforting is – even in the heat of my 100-mile an hour, metal pitch – I didn’t look like a “whitewashed tomb” beautiful on the outside. Rather, I looked different: Ugly on the outside, wanting to be alive and clean on the inside.
While we judge ourselves on outward actions,
God is far more concerned about inner intentions.
Sometimes, better is a purely wrecked heart before God,
than a white-washed tomb before man.
Sometimes, better is a crazed woman rapidly-approaching God,
than one hiding behind doilies, daisies or drugs.
Sometimes, better is an unleashed moment,
if it brings long-needed cathartic repentance before the King.
Let me tell you, Jesus can handle your worst moment, tantrum, fight or foible.
It is not too much for him.
He won’t disown you.
He won’t back out.
We think that Jesus can’t handle us, yet he handled the most deadly carcinogen, called sin, on the cross. He handled whips on his side. He handled insults and spit, vile and vitriol. He handled all that.
Can’t Jesus handle a LaCroix Passion Fruit flavored
can hurled at a red cart?
I think he can.
He can handle Kelly-unleashed, untamed and unruly. He can handle you too.
I guess, looking back, rather than throwing bullets at plastic, I could have thrown my head right onto the steering wheel, shut down the cries a seat behind me – and just cried too. I could have called out. I could have pleaded to feel His love. I could have let Him know – I feel crazy. I could have breathed deep. I could have given myself an encouraging word, a word that says, “This is hard Kelly. There is a lot going on. Extend yourself the patience and grace that God would.” I could have heard the voice of Jesus.
Today, though, I look back and remind myself, God doesn’t tally up the ways I defect from His Christian fan club. He doesn’t cast me to the long-line in order to reach His throne. He doesn’t demote me. He doesn’t despise me.
His plans are to uprise me.
More and more, I am seeing, I must come undone, so I can be redone in Christ’s image. When I get beyond my mind, I find his.
Sometimes, it takes losing it to find Him. Surely, it is not the best path to God, but sometimes, it is the path that makes you realize – that control you thought you owned? Well, you never even purchased to begin with. He did, when he died on the cross. With this, you find yourself on your knees, in a low stance, that almost always raises you high – directly into new hope.
Something works, even when you feel everything about you doesn’t.
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