The One Who Writes in the Sand

In everything I go through, I pick up baggage. Good and bad. In my highest places I pick up self-confidence and in my lowest I pick up scars. Just two examples of the endless little souvenirs that find a home in my mind and in my heart. My mom pointed out today something I’d never really thought about. She said, “You were absolutely fearless when you were young. When did that change?” It’s a loaded question and even though I wrote about my encounter with “fear” in my book, and I’m very aware that still today I battle with that ugly little spirit, I’d never thought about the turning point of when it entered my life. It’s just one of the many that have been brought to light – pride was quite the shocker… ick.. anyway, when they brought the woman to Jesus to condemn her for her sin, he said nothing, (ignored them) while he wrote in the sand. Can you imagine if everything we’d ever done, ever thought and ever went through was written in the sand? Rather than etched inside of our painful memories or shoved deep into the dark crevices of our hearts.. if our stories were written in the sand they’d be washed away by the crashing of a wave against the shore or blotted out and covered up by a gust of wind. forgotten… gone.. like they never even happened. James said our lives are like a vapor.. vapor doesn’t even have form it just kind of hovers for a minute and then vanishes into nothing. It makes me wonder why I would even want to have a story at all.. if it’s nothing. Why even strive to live if we’re born dead – death is the only destination these bodies have that is absolute. If this sounds cryptic, perhaps it is… like the hard to digest words of Jesus who said “die to yourself daily.” What does that even mean? When I think deeply about what really imprisons me, it’s myself. My desires, my shortcomings, my fears and worries.. They can completely consume the mind and weight the heart. I’ve lost count of the many times I’ve said to myself, “I’m so tired of feeling like I’m carrying the world on my shoulders.”… and why does life at times feel so heavy? if it’s nothing more than a vapor…. I surely don’t do a good job of casting away my own burdens. And regrettably, when I allow life to wear me down it certainly doesn’t make it easy for me to love others the way I should. I wonder if that woman felt like this before she was faced with the one who writes in the sand. As everyone around laid such heavy burdens on her and even called for her death. And even in that extreme heaviness of fear, I imagine there was guilt too… regrets.. heartbreak that led to regrets.. boasting as she drank from dry wells in the pursuit of love and so much more that writes the stories that make our hearts sick. But he didn’t condemn her. He loved her. He set her free. Free from her past.. free from her fear… free from her enemies and accusers… free from HERSELF.

This world teaches us the importance of our stories – to make a name for ourselves.  I drank that koolaid for a long time and it never got me anywhere but miserable, lonely and stressed out.  When all is said and done, His story is the only one that will remain.  Why would I want to be anything but saved by Him? …  Seeking the one who writes in the sand tonight <3

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