A fog set in and blanketed my usually clear thoughts. I stared in the mirror, glowing; the beautiful chestnut dress hanging perfectly on my not-so-perfect body. The organic cotton felt soft and comfortable against my skin. And the price tag becoming less and less relevant.
I glanced over at the pile of other beautiful clothes heaped on the dressing room chair, the ones that also fit. That were beautiful, that made me *feel* beautiful. That suddenly, I seemed to need. My life without them, perfectly fine when I awoke on this gorgeous fall morning, now seemed to have a gaping hole that just needed to be filled.
My mind darted to my wallet. I had some cash in there. Some. Maybe enough for one or two of the items (we each have some personal money each month in our budget that we can spend as we wish); but I really wanted at least 4 or 5 of these items. A dress, two skirts, and two shirts. And I had nowhere near the money for that.
What happened next felt almost surreal – as my mind started filling with tainted thoughts; comparisons, jealousy of other friends, insecurity, and even resentment. Now more than ever, I needed these things. I needed to figure out a way to have them. I finally came up with a plan; a plan that wasn’t exactly dishonest – it would meet all the letter of the law, it would not get me in trouble. But I knew, in my heart, that I was manipulating the truth, and choosing sin.
And I chose it anyway.
I bought those things. Beautiful packages in hand, I walked slowly to my car and began the laborious drive home through Chicago traffic. As I sat there stoplight after stoplight, I realized how all of the morning’s joy had now vanished. How heavy my spirit was. How I no longer wanted to talk to my Daddy in the car as we usually do; and how I was no longer looking forward to seeing my husband at home.
Because what I was now feeling was no longer the elation of the purchase, but the residual affects of sin. Shame.
I felt the immediate disconnect in my spirit, but it just made me want to hide. Because, so simply, it felt essential to hang onto my ‘stuff’.
But oh how I hate feeling any separation from Him. The more I know Him, the more I love Him, and the more I want to do every part of my life with Him. And the more I feel His absence when I’ve grieved Him. So I began to present my heart, totally hardened as it was, to Him. 99% hardened, 99% intent on keeping my secret and my stuff. But that 1% was enough. As Holy Spirit made His way in, His light was not shaming – it was freeing.
He was not condemning me, He was loving me. He was opening my white-knuckled hands, lifting me up, giving me perspective. Unwrapping the chains that bound me to that stuff. By the time I arrived home, it was settled in my heart. No sin is worth separation from that kind of Love.
No sin is worth separation from that kind of Love.
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I laid all of the purchases out on our bed, and then I sat down out front on our old peeling porch steps next to my husband, and poured out the story. As honestly as I could, trying my best not to hide or make myself look better than it actually was. And I cried. Over stuff? Over clothes? Clothes I certainly don’t need. This whole morning I was amazed at what a foothold this thing seemed to have in me. I ended by laying it at his feet, telling him we could do whatever he thought best – and I would take everything back if need be.
Papa listened quietly to it all. And thought a bit, he is never quick to speak. He put his hand on my knee, and his mouth turned up as his dimples poked out. And I came face to face with grace.
He could have so easily judged me; we have a clear and limited budget. We are trying so hard to save for a van – so our whole family can finally all ride together! We have six little mouths to feed and uniforms to buy and growing boys who actually need new clothes. But he did not condemn me. Not even in the face of my real sin, my intended deception. He chose forgiveness – He chose to be Jesus to me.
And the weight lifted, the shame lifted; the real freedom of restoration was unleashed in me. And suddenly, whether I had those new clothes or not seemed almost totally irrelevant. My alignment shifted, and the joy returned. That is the real, true affect of repentance and of grace.
What came next, was yet another reflection of His love. As Papa helped me figure out how we could keep these things I had so desperately wanted. We put two away for Christmas gifts, and the others – he said I should just keep. Freely. As gifts. Just because he loves me.
Love truly does trump sin, when we give it the chance.