Friday, December 26, 2003

Can't Stop Pounding the Nails

Well, sometimes I just feel like a failure at everything. I am not the friend I want to be. I am not the person I want to be. I am not the Christian I want to be.



I'm not sure this is a good thing, the fact that I am constantly worrying about my Christian witness. It is one thing to be conscientious, but I think I obsess. I obsess to the point that I am always thinking to myself, what is the "right" thing to do? Or, how could I have done that...I've blown it now, this is why people don't come to know Christ, because of people like me.



I can't stand that I make mistakes and totally blow it sometimes. I did recently when I spoke careless words and hurt somebody. They would never confront me, but I know I was in the wrong. It's been bothering me. Today I talked with this person and apologized for speaking words that hurt and for even thinking them. I was wrong and I asked for forgiveness. It all ended ok, but I can't take back those words.



My mom taught me once that sticks and stone may break your bones but words will hurt more. I believe it to be true. You can put a cast on a broken arm (or maybe not in my grandma's case), and it will heal, but that word that pierced a heart still hurts and it won't go away. I feel like such a loser.



I always feel guilt. Katie says I am right to feel conviction, but wrong to always feel guilty. That I am not perfect and I will make mistakes. I get sick of screwing up! "Guilt is not from God", she says, "condemnation is straight from the enemy!" I know this to be true, but it's hard. I want to please God. I want God to smile on me. I want to arrive in His Kingdom in Heaven and have Him look into my eyes and say "well done my good and faithful servant", but I am not deserving of these words. I know that Jesus' perfection is what God will see, and does see, when He sees me. I know that Jesus takes my place. I know that my sin is nailed to His cross. Sometimes I really hate that. I hate that my sin put Him there, hanging on a tree, and I still can't stop pounding in the nails.

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