Psalm 49:13 This is the fate of those who trust in themselves.
In a pre-caffeine haze, I held my iPhone. A smile arced under hair as messy as the Chicago interstate system. My friend offered to make dinner for our Friday night small group. I quickly typed, "____ volunteered but we'll be passing around a new sign-up so the next Ruesday is available."
This tells me:
1) I am clearly watching too much Scooby Doo, Ron't Rou Rink Raggy?
2) I'm a mess. My small group doesn't even meet on Ruesday. It's meets on Friday.
I am a mess. I reach my limit and yell at my kids over minor infractions. I give my husband the cold shoulder instead of just expressing my frustration. I dodge a friend who wounded me instead of dealing with an awkward exchange.
I am a mess who desperately needs Jesus. My need is real. It presses against my heart and draws me closer to my Jesus. It floods my thoughts and delivers grace. It humbles my mind and fixes my thoughts on God.
It is a well-known fact men are not attracted to desperate, needy women...but my Jesus is. He runs right into the middle of my mess. He calls my name, smooths my nest of hair and exchanges my mess for His majesty.
Jesus, I'm falling hard on Your lap this morning. My need is great. Your grace is greater. My messy life shouts my need and I'm thankful for my mess. I desperately seek You because I'm a mess.
