I went to bed very weary.
Weary from the growing pains, because we are all still growing up.
I am still growing up. And I am broken. I make mistakes.
And I find that when I make mistakes, previous mistakes from my past flood into my brain. Haunt me. And make me to grow even wearier.
And I hear myself groaning, inside and out. And I want to fall into the bed and be swallowed up, but I can't stop the memories of mistakes from flashing in and out of my brain. Sometimes I feel like I am at their disposal -- all I can do is close my eyes really tight, fight back the tears, and wait for things to pass over.
"But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us."
I am the jar of clay.
I am frail. Broken.
I make mistakes. I push blame.
I have a past I am not proud of. I have a present full of mishaps, known and unknown.
I am living, walking proof that anything good out of me comes from the Father, and that He can be glorified through frail, broken vessels.
In my case... at least I hope so.
I lean on His strength to get me through, especially on the hard days.
"We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed."
But I thank God for the hard days
because they are a visceral reminder of
how. much. I. need. Him.
"Though out outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison."
2 Corinthians 4:7-9, 16-17