when i was young, i became very good at lying. over the years, hundreds of lies scattered between me and the world. some just below the surface, peeking out at suspicion. some buried so deep that even i couldn’t find them again.
like a small stuffed toy shoved down and forgotten under the covers. the lump is felt. the evidence remains. lack of peace…lack of smooth.
it started with a small brown jar of kinas and toeas that were not mine…stealing change.
not out of rebellion. out of fear…
i would not have enough,
what felt like need would not be met.
…unbearable to a mind that had not yet claimed trust in god’s provision and care.
when my parents questioned me…i could never admit it. if they saw me that way—as that person—i would break into pieces, not worth their love.
as my insecurity swelled, i pointed people to who i wanted to be in that moment…each time stealing one more coin. one more instance of not trusting the outcome.
then i met and married a man for this lifetime and there wasn’t room between us for all the lies stuffed in pockets and seams and being shifted from one hand to another.
and so i showed him everything i clutched in my hands and carried with me. and i broke into pieces.
he picked each one up, threw them too far away to find, and loved me more than i deserved.
so i tried on the truth, until i believed what i saw in the mirror. that it fit. until it became so comfortable, i didn’t want to ever take it off.
sometimes my pockets are full to brimming with my frustrations, my mistakes, my poor choices, my entitlement, my disappointment, my anger, my selfishness. i sit down on the floor in the middle of an empty house and i hold out all my stolen coins, tired of the weight of them.
and i break into pieces for a moment, laying them all down at the feet of my savior.
and he picks each one up,
throws them too far away to find, and
loves me more than i deserve.
as far as the east is from the west,
so far has he removed our transgressions from us.
(psalm 103:12, NASB)