Poor Me

“Keep my soul, and deliver me; let me not be ashamed, for I put my trust in You.” Psalm 25:20

BOY OH BOY did I have a doozy of a pity party going on this morning.

What was WRONG with me? I couldn’t do anything right. My hair never looks like I want it to, my makeup is smudged again, and I never can find the cute clothes to buy like everyone else at church. My house needs a fresh coat of paint (inside and out), my windows are dirty, and my furniture is outdated. My toenails aren’t painted, the potting soil I bought LAST SPRING still sits where we unloaded it, and the special dinner I planned wasn’t so special. I found a mousehole in an empty bedroom, my clothes hangers are jumbled in the closet, and the birdfeeders sit empty. I don’t spend time with my relatives like I should, I don’t follow my passion, and so many projects sit undone that I fear I will never, ever, EVER have the energy, talent, or interest to get back to them.

I don’t normally find fault with myself. My mottos are usually “Oh well” and “Whatever.” But not today. Today, I grappled with a relentless stream of You-Nevers and You-Should-Haves.

Why does the dailiness of life seem to come so hard sometimes? Why are we on top of things, productive, talented, decent-looking, friendly and loving some days, and other days we can do nothing right?

More importantly, where is this coming from?

I had to smile when the Spirit gave me the answer: God is not condemning me. I condemn myself when I compare myself to others—and that is what I do when the enemy accuses me. He whispers, “Others do life so much better than you do. Others are prettier, more capable, slimmer, smarter, healthier, and more disciplined. Others walk closer to God, know more Scripture than you do, and work harder.” And the clincher for a believer: “Others love and give and believe more than you do…”

If I stay in this accused condition—if I listen, take it into my spirit and believe it—I put myself in bondage. Chains. Dungeons. Walls of separation from the River of Life. Just a crust of bread and a sip of water for dinner—it’s all I deserve. The pity party.

The Spirit’s prompting of truth was the key to deliverance: Hah! You can’t take me captive, enemy. I’m on to your tricks. You snuck up on me, but now I see you, grabbing and clawing at me to pull me down, to make me stumble. I ran to safety in my Father’s arms, and took refuge in His comforting words of love and acceptance.

I will not live another moment in the clutches of the enemy of my soul. My life belongs to Jesus. He has taken charge of my safety, and has rescued me.

Father, let me not be ashamed; let not my enemy triumph over me. Amen.