My in-laws came to visit.
Normally those are words that strike fear in the hearts of newly wedded wives everywhere. But not in our case. I am among those blessed few who looked forward greatly to such an occasion!
But something was a little off…
Our sticky-note list was like 5 car long sticky train. Written on horizontal and vertical and in the margins… my type A to-do list.
God bless my husband.
I just wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted that icky spot behind my kitchen sink faucet spotless, a fire roaring in the fireplace and the air to smell of vanilla. I wanted them to walk into my 700 square feet of home and say; “Yes, this is sanctuary.” A simple request for sugar was returned by a muddled tripping-over-my-strangely-short-tongue expose on the fact that yes I do have baking supplies! I do bake! I know how! (Most of the time) In fact I have a baking section in that cabinet right there!! I was ecstatic when a crock pot meal I hadn’t really planned on making was not only completely edible but actually pretty enjoyable! My heart was screaming as I noticed little imperfections all over my home. (“That plant is beyond dead! Why is it still sitting there staring at me exposing me in all my horrible black thumbedness!?”) My soul exclaimed; “Please don’t notice! I am reputable I promise! Look! I have a baking section!
I ached for their approval…..
Oh how foolish!
“All that the Father gives Me will come to Me, and the one who comes to Me I will certainly not cast out.
I am totally accepted in Christ. There is nothing more I can do to make myself more presentable in Christ….
That random citizen in Starbucks who jumped up to help the burdened man through the door. My heart says; “Wow, she probably isn’t even a Christian….I should have done that for him. “ I desire so much to make myself more acceptable in His sight, yet deep down in my visceral heart I know that holding that door would simply be a filthy rag. A dirty cloth. Filthiness clothed in good intentions. I cannot make myself whiter, cleaner, but there is one who can wash me whiter than snow. One that can clothe me in robes of righteousness.
Three days a week. I stand in a large quiet empty room. It’s 8:25 and my knees feel shaky, my head already hurts and my spirit is weak. Because in about 2.5 minutes my first student will walk through the door and reveal my worst fear is true.
I am an impostor.
Hour after hour different dearhearts stomp loudly and energetically up those stairs.
7 of them. Then the landing, then 4 more.
I stand in front of them, and speak and pray and demonstrate and (attempt) to draw. Hoping that maybe just maybe little trickles of information are making it down into their hearts. I don’t really have any idea what I am doing. I know what they are going through and I would really just rather hug and comfort those lost eyes than hand back lower than I hoped grades. I respond to emails from parents the best I can, and make the copy machine attempt to breathe its last every morning. I want to do my best and excel but I have finally come to a surprisingly circular conclusion.
I am an impostor.
This world is not my home, I’m just passing though. I was not designed to be accepted by this world. Actually quite the opposite. Oh that my heart would long so hard after God. To be accepted by the ultimate acceptor.
“Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.”
Chosen by the Father’s mercy,
Set apart to serve His Son,
Sanctified by His own Spirit—
Praise the Holy Three in One!
Saved by resurrection power,
Shielded in His faithful love;
Now, no enemy can tarnish
My inheritance above!
I’m Born again!
I’m God’s own chosen child of mercy!
Born again! What love and grace!
Father, keep me walking worthy
‘Til I look upon Your face.