She Reads Truth's Hosea Day 11 was intense.
I started my morning by having a little Bible study/coffee date/meeting with a friend (over McDonald's breakfast sandwiches, thank you very much), and when I came home in the afternoon, I had about two hours to myself before I needed to pick up my son from Kindergarten. So, I used it as my quiet time to read SRT. I'm a major night-owl; my mind usually doesn't properly turn on until about 10pm. So to read such a heavy chapter from Hosea in mid-day was... ugh, it tore me up. Also, during the study, I was becoming very, very distracted by every little thing around me, and I felt like there was a message that God wanted to give me, which Satan didn't want getting through.
The opening paragraph was this:
Once upon a time I was tasked by a mentor to pray every day for two weeks that God would show me my sin, and to ask two people close to me to do the same for me. It was one of the most shocking and enlightening exercises of my spiritual life to date. Because, you guys: that prayer is no joke.
Ouch. No, thank you. I'll pass.
Although what I learned was, well, appalling, that simple prayer taught me a priceless truth of the Gospel: The larger my view of my sin, the larger my view of the cross.
Yeah, that's the truth, but no, thank you. I am well-aware of how much I suck at life. I judge, I gossip, I covet, I idolize, etc. I am just as "selfish or high maintenance [as] the next person, at least... on a fundamentally human level."* I know my own sin better than anyone. Besides God. And He knows my sin better than even I do, so I for sure do not want to see my own ugliness through His eyes.
So even after reading the first two paragraphs, I was feeling uneasy, scared, and pretty defensive, to be honest. (And continued to become distracted by everything.)
I kept reading:
Seeing more of what should separate me from a holy God means seeing more of Christ. Understanding the vastness of my sin means understanding the vastness of Jesus’ love and sacrifice for me.
The cross covers it ALL.
GASP! How beautiful! More truth, but this time, it's the kind that doesn't hurt so much. I want to see more of Christ! This is my prayer every day. Really, it is. In song, I pray before I start my studies, "I want to know You, I want to hear Your voice, I want to know You more. I want to touch You, I want to see Your face, I want to know You more." (Hillsong)
So after reading that part, I understood more completely. It's just like the woman in Luke, who washes Jesus' feet with her tears. She got it. She had seen herself more clearly than I'm seeing myself. And because she understood how much sin she had, she understood how much of her sin had been forgiven (all of it), and so she showed that amount of love to her Savior (much). I want to love Him like she loved Him!
SRT says, "Sisters, as painful as it may be, it is important that we see our sin."
So the challenge now, is to pray this prayer. I'm still scared. What am I going to learn about myself? I'm literally cringing as I write this, because really, ew. I know my past sins. I think I have a pretty good idea of what my present sins are. But if having my eyes opened wide to how much I need Christ is going to make me that much closer to Him, I'm going to pray the prayer.
Let us pray today that God would pull back the veil to reveal a corner of our sinful heart—not that we should despair, but that we should repent, return and rejoice in His steadfast love.
Our God hates sin, as should we. But, oh, how He loves us.
Be ready—God will answer your prayer! And as unpleasant as it will be to face the reality of your sin, it will be ten times sweeter to behold the grandness of the cross and hear Him say to you, “GRACE.”
And as I re-read 1 Corinthians 6:9-11, I am comforted. Because as ugly as my sin is, I do not have to become ensnared by it. I AM NOT MY SIN. "[I am] different now; [I] have been washed clean, set apart, restored, and set on the right path in the name of the Lord Jesus, the Anointed, by the Spirit of our living God." Hallelujah, amen.
So, who's brave enough to join me?
*From The Fitting Room by Kelly Minter