Wednesday, March 19, 2014
I Have a Problem
Aaron and I live in a perpetual state of married bliss. Our life is just one big happy selfie.
I'm sorry. I just lied to you on a public forum.
Sometimes, I am incredibly hateful to the person I have promised to love better than myself for all of my life.
Last night, this syndrome was at its peak. It was one of those nights where Aaron could do nothing right - poor man. A few snippets of things I actually said to him:
"Ugh, so now you are going to be checking basketball stuff every day and watching games all the time." (Hello, March Madness.)
"Can you not talk to me right now?"
"Why don't you take Maggie out?" (This is as he is putting a second coat of polyurethane on our staircase, which he has worked on tirelessly for the last week.)
"Are you BREATHING right now? Because that is really annoying!" (This was said a little tongue-in-cheek because I knew how ridiculous I was being, but I still was sort of annoyed as his audacity to breathe.)
This morning, as I sat still and silent, all the junk of last night came back to my mind. Am I really that person? How am I that person? The black of my heart had stained our home and the heart of the man that I love. My careless words were spoken freely because everyone is allowed a few grumpy days, right? Ugly ooze, spilled with such ease. I look at the piles of gross, and I despair.
In His Word, He comes. His Spirit awakens and shocks my heart with truth and grace. "Jesus, who went before us," Hebrews 6 says. Jesus has gone ahead of me - He has already experienced every difficult nuance of loving people. And He did it perfectly and completely. That isn't all, Hebrews 7 declares. He is also the "holy, blameless, pure, set apart from sinners, exalted above the heavens" high priest! To the weak man, to the weak cycle of sin then sacrifice, sin then sacrifice, He says, "Enough. I am the perfect and complete sacrifice. And I am able to save you completely."
This isn't abstract theology, embalmed in ancient and dusty manuscripts. This is hope and life for a wife who fails and falters and falls, whose good intentions go missing all the time, who lets a weary day of dirty diapers and barking dog get the best of her tongue.
The Son, who has been made perfect forever, is my perfection. He has promised to put his law in my mind and write it on my heart.
I come to Him again. There is no shame in how often I need to come, the repeated desperation. Where else could I go? I come to the Son, and He says,
"for I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more." (Heb 8:12)
I can't solve this problem. But He can.
That is the beauty of the Gospel.