ďNot so good,Ē I admitted, ďbut I did it to myself.Ē Wisely, my husband didnít say a word. He didnít have to. We both knew Iíd overcommitted and todayís pain was the price. Throughout the week Iíd struggled with expectations and an unspoken sense of competition among a dynamic group of women who consistently get things done. I knew in my heart I didnít have the stamina to take on a big, last-minute, first-time project, but I wasnít willing to be the weak link, to do less because of my injury, unwilling to explain that while I wanted to help, I couldnít, so Iíd ignored my limitations and pushed through, and the cost was high, not just to me, but also to my family.
Why, I wondered, do I still compare myself to others? Still measure my worth against human standards? Still strive to exceed othersí expectations? The honest answer, the one I didnít even want to admit to myself, is that I want to be known as someone whoís reliable and hard working, someone who isnít afraid to roll up her sleeves and do whatever it takes to get the job done. Iíve never wanted the glory, but always the quiet recognition. Ouch!
Itís a battle whose roots stretch all the way back to the Garden of Eden with tendrils winding through time, our personal war with pride. Yet if I know Whose I am, if I understand that I am fearfully and wonderfully made in Godís own image, why does it matter whether or not I measure up to this worldís standards or how I compare to others? Was my busyness this week Godís plan for my life or my own? Did I even ask?
No. I didnít. Not once did I seek Godís will for my week. I simply checked the calendar, grabbed a pen and scheduled our days. By Friday evening I had to admit that I was hurting and it was my own fault, a hard truth and a humbling reality. Not only was my over-commitment unwise, but my motivation was wrong too. It was time to admit my selfish ambitions and confess my pride.
Father, forgive me. How could I measure my worth by any standard others than Yours or value fallible human opinion over Your immense, immeasurable love for me -- love that cost you more than I will ever understand, that cost you everything? You created me in Your image by Your Hand, a masterpiece, exquisite, distinct and original, one-of-a-kind, perfectly fitted to fulfill Your will for my life. Knowing all that, how could I possibly not choose You and Your plan for my week? And yet I didnít. Oh, Lord, I chose me. Forgive me.
You, O Lord, are my Strength and my Shield, my Rock and my Redeemer, my Refuge and my Creator, my Savior and the Song of my heart. Teach me to choose You every moment of every day, that one day the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart will fill Your soul with joy and bring glory to Your holy name. Amen.
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