show me my sin

It was early. 

Too early to be brewing coffee, ironically enough.

 Why I can't get it all ready and set the automatic timer the night before is beyond me.

But here I was. Still pitch black out side, sleep still clouding my eyes. Trying to make coffee. 

I fumbled the entire time, got it all ready and turned my back. I knew almost instantly that I had done something wrong. I turned back just in time to see black sludge spreading across the counter. 

I had forgotten to put the lid of the coffee pot.

Thick, black, ground-filled coffee muck was everywhere. Counter, all in the coffee pot and even in the coffee maker itself. 

I considered either going back to bed or getting in the van to go get coffee. After clutching the counter for a moment I decided to do the right thing and clean up the mess. 

As I emptied the coffee pot I glanced down into it and saw that the stainless steel pot was completely brown, caked with coffe residue. I cringed. I call myself a decent housekeeper, but things like this make me wonder. I sprinkled some baking soda in the bottom of the pot and started scrubbing.

Did I mention it was still dark outside? It's still dark outside and I'm scrubbing something. 

As I dumped out the now putrid brown baking soda coffee sludge from the coffe pot, I thought, "Well, I'm sure the coffee will taste better now. Good grief."

The pot gleamed. I scrubbed out the coffee maker, cleaned up the counter, refilled everything and make the coffee again, this time with the lid firmly screwed in place.

I stood back a minute and admired my work.

Would you have cleaned that pot this morning had there not been a coffee disaster?

I felt the gentle whisper of the Spirit in my heart. 

Of course I wouldn't have cleaned the coffee pot. I would have gone on drinking coffee out of that stained pot, too busy to notice it was dirty. 

Oh...

I really don't think God should teach me anything before I've had coffee.

See, it had been a hard week. After a hard weekend. And I was still tired from all of that but the days kept coming so I was trying to keep up.

And my daughter had an... issue. 

Now I know that my kids are getting bigger. I know that their lives aren't fully mine to share as much now that they are getting older. I don't want to tell something that's not mine to tell. So I'll just say there was in issue. 

We had been praying over this issue for a little while, and it sort of suddenly came to a head one morning. 

We talked and talked and then she went off to start school while I cleaned the kitchen from breakfast. 

She came back in the kitchen, twirling her hair the way she does when she's nervous.

"Mom? I am going to fast from lunch today and ask God to show me my sin."

Um. 

I mean I played it cool. I was all like, "Oh wow, okay sweetie. That's good. Great idea..."

She went back to the table and I grabbled the edge of the counter for the second time that morning and in my head said, "WHAT JUST HAPPENED?"

Oh, Lord. What do I do?

I called her and she came back in the kitchen. I pulled her in my arms and just held her for awhile. I whispered into her hair, "I am so proud of you."

She pulled back and I looked her full in her face, "I'm going to do it too, okay?"

She smiled. "You don't have to, Mom. I know it's what I'm supposed to do."

"I need to do it too," I responded.

We nodded in solidarity.

And we started school. 

It was Wednesday, so we had piano and church. We have a pretty tight schedule to keep, and then my sweet neighbor who recently had surgery texted me to ask if I happened to be going to the grocery store that afternoon. She needed some things and I responded that we would be happy to make a run for her. And I was happy to go. I was also wondering where I was going to find some time with my kid to help her sort this all out.

We plowed through school and soon it was lunchtime. I eyed my daughter and I could tell she was struggling. The boys brought their lunches to the table so they could eat, and I could hear them asking why she wasn't eating. I just listened from the kitchen where I was cleaning it from the lunch rush. She just shrugged and said, "I'm fasting."

The not so gentle baby kid said, "Why are you fasting?" I think he even then waved part of his lunch in front of her face. 

We have a ways to go with him.

I came back to the table and she leaned over and said, "He tempted me with his lunch, but I thought about Jesus in the desert and Satan tempting Him with food and He said 'no' and I decided to do the same thing."

Well okay then.

We finished school and dashed out into the rain to get things for our friends. 

In the grocery store.

Where there's lots of food.

And we were hungry.

I heard her groan a time or two.

We hurried.

We dropped off the food and got home and bless her heart, she had to practice for her piano lesson. 

"I'm hungry," she said simply.

"Okay, listen. Here's where we say, 'Lord, more than I want food, I want you to show me my sin.'" I almost hated to tell her this, but it was necessary. I wanted to tell her it was okay, that she'd worked hard and it was a good effort and go have some lunch. 

But I was not going to waste this fast. 

She practiced her allotted time and came back to where I was folding laundry. 

"Okay. Now. Go get with God. Get in your room. No music. Nothing. You and God. Get your journal out. Ask God to show you your sin. Again. Ask and be still. And wait. And write." I was trembling inside.

She nodded and walked upstairs. I got out my beloved journal. I needed to pray the same prayer, but I couldn't yet. 

"Lord, show yourself to my daughter. Lord, you have to show yourself here. This is important. Move here. Do a work. Please make this mean something to her. Please..." I cried and prayed. I prayed and cried some more. I was desperate for Him to show Himself faithful to her. 

I started to write myself and ask God the same for me...

Show me my sin...

My pen began to form letters and soon I was writing some things that I knew I needed to address in my own life. Not fun. But necessary.

I soon heard her footsteps. I looked up and she was standing, clutching her notebook.

I think my heart literally broke just a little. 

She smiled sadly and said, "I want to read you this, and I'm warning you that I might cry."

I could only bite my lip and nod.

She read the most amazingly beautiful and painfully honest thing I could have ever imagined. When she was done, I stood and pulled her in my arms again. I just couldn't even speak. I choked back my own tears and said, "I'm so proud of you. Now can I make you something to eat before we go?" She nodded. It was after 4 o'clock and she had not eaten since breakfast. She bounced off to gather her things for piano and church. There was a lightness in her step that comes from the true confession of sin, and the beautiful receiving of forgiveness.

While I made her sandwich I considered later finding that thing she wrote and stealing it. I wanted to keep it to bookmark this day. I didn't but I still might. 

She came back into the kitchen chattering away. "Do you know how I knew to fast?" she asked.

I said I didn't. I had been wondering about that all day, really. I could't remember if I had ever really talked to her about fasting, regrettably. 

"Pastor David taught us about it, remember? He taught us how to do it. I remembered what he said and I knew that was what I needed to do."

This is just one of the things I love about families worshipping together. 

We took those moments as she ate her peanut butter and jelly sandwich to talk about how Jesus taught about fasting. About what Scripture says about it. About how it works and what it does. She dusted the sandwich crumbs off her hands and bounced to the van. Her step was still light. 

I watched her in rec time that night at church, and tears spilled again. How do you ever thank God enough for working in your child's life?

I came home that night exhausted. The day wasn't over yet. My husband and I had some long, deep and hard conversations about some heavy issues. It wasn't pretty and it was not easy. As I drug my now past exhausted body to bed that night, I heard myself say, "Well, you asked God to show you your sin..."

Yes. Yes, I did.

As I cleaned up those coffee grounds off my white countertop that still dark morning, I saw the connection. Had my daughter not had a "disaster" she would not have fasted and asked God to show her her sin. 

Had I not had my spousal "disaster" (or "incident" we can now call it) that one night, I would not have been shown my sin.

But as a result of some disasters, we were able to allow God to point out some black places in us. 

To see it so plainly, all over my kitchen counter in the form of coffee sludge, was humbling. And for this analogy queen, it was the perfect way to cement this in my heart and mind what will hopefully be forever.

Disaster brings about sanctification

Whether it's doing Friday school here or learning to run or messing up the checkbook or offending a friend or something bigger...

Or huge. Whatever it is. I doubt I would let God clean out the dark, dank recesses of my heart if I weren't forced to. 

And that's something the girl kid said. I mean she really said it. 

"If that terrible thing hadn't have happened, I wouldn't have done all of that."

I want to learn how to "do all of that" even when disaster doesn't come. I want to be brave enough to ask it more often. And even now as I struggle to walk in obedience to what God is telling me to do to eradicate the sin He showed me, I still want to be brave enough to follow through. Because some times it's just easier to stay right where you are. 

And I want to be brave enough to ask Him to do it again. 

But I want to be a polished and sparkling conduit for Him. So if the Lord has to get His scrub brush after me whether it be after a disaster or not, so be it.

All for His glory.