Once upon a time, my eight-year-old daughter made a choice.
Her friends had invited her to help construct a cart. The intention was to build something large enough to carry a person. Utilizing her gift of creativity and relishing in the friendships, she labored hours on this project until the day it was completed. It was time to try out the contraption! Only I, her mother, had wisely forbidden her to not ride it down the one significant hill in the neighborhood. But of course, that’s where it was to be tested. The first friend skimmed over the pavement, skidding across the grass at the bottom. The second friend flew down the hill and landed in a nearby ditch. Now it was her turn! But her mother’s words haunted her thoughts. “I am saying no because you could get hurt.”
“Your mom will never know,” her friends encouraged her.
Throwing caution to the wind, she climbed into the cart. She settled in and whoosh, it rolled down the hill. Trees rushed past her, the wind whipped her long tresses and then clunk! The wheel rolled off the cart and suddenly she pitched unceremoniously onto the pavement. Her legs were covered in blood. Her arms were covered in blood. Her new shirt was covered in blood. She quickly asked her friends if it were torn.
They told her no, but that was the least of her worries. The pavement had torn up her skin.
She drug herself home and found her mom getting dinner on the table. When I looked up and saw her, I stopped. Drying my hands on a towel, I immediately accessed the damage. “Are you all right- what hurts?”
“Nothing, I just got banged up on the sidewalk.“
“Are you sure? You are covered with cuts.” I searched her daughter’s eyes, and I knew. God give me wisdom, her mind whispered.
The young girl quickly claimed she’d get cleaned up and would report to dinner shortly. She could barely look her momma in the face, let alone meet her gaze.
Over the next few days, I cleaned her wounds and changed the bandages several times a day. I prayed over her aloud for healing. I prayed silently over her for a conviction of conscience.
After three days the banged-up girl couldn’t bear it anymore. “Mom, I didn’t get hurt by falling on the sidewalk.”
Oh, thank You Lord! But aloud I said, “Oh? How did you get hurt?”
With giant tears rolling down her reddened face, she told the story of riding the cart down the big hill. How her friends did it without getting hurt. How she never thought her mom would know. How her heart had been burdened “like a weight crushing me” the past few days. “Oh mom, I’m so sorry!” She spoke the words with genuine remorse as she collapsed into my open arms.
Squeezing her tightly, I whispered, “I forgive you.” After a moment of letting her cry it out and feeling her sobs quiet, I said, “I love you. I was trying to protect you. That’s why I said ‘no’.”
Her reddened eyes looked directly at me, “I know that now.”
“Sweetie, what bothered you worse? Knowing you disobeyed about the cart, or knowing you had lied about it?”
Her eyes filled with tears again, “Both!” But then she looked right into my eyes and said, “But I thought I had gotten away with the lie. I thought you really didn’t know. You kept helping me and taking care of me, and I just couldn’t lie to you anymore.”
I smiled. “I knew. Just one look of you bleeding in the doorway, I knew.” My daughter’s mouth dropped open. “But I knew you are old enough to decide what to do. I wanted you to hear from the Holy Spirit, to be convicted. I wanted you to learn how to make things right when you deliberately made a mistake. And you have. Do you feel any better now?” I reached over to squeeze her again.
“Oh yes, there’s nothing between us now.”
That’s how it is with us and God. We can enjoy being in His presence when we stand before him with a clean conscience. That doesn’t mean we must be perfect, never making a mistake. But it means when we make the mistakes, we need to fess up to them.
The closer we walk with God, the more that weight should bore into our consciences. We will struggle to find peace, just as my daughter did. The more we realize how much God loves us and we see the evidence of His love and the blessings, the heavier that disobedience should weigh.
But the joy when we fess up! He will open His arms and embrace us whole-heartedly. He doesn’t hold that infraction against us anymore. The sin is gone. The consequences remain. And we will need to heal from the bumps and bruises of that sin. But God has forgiven.
Maybe you are feeling much like my daughter when she was eight years old. You know you need to speak the truth but you are disappointed in yourself. And you are trying to recuperate from your consequences.
Ask for forgiveness.
Then forgive yourself.
He loves you. He wants to hold you and carry you through. He is happy to stay right beside you, if you ask.
Let’s ask Him for just that:
Prayer: Dear Lord, You know. You know what I have done and what I need to confess. You also know I have realized my misstep, my mistake. Oh, the pain it has caused me! Please forgive me. I am so sorry I decided to disobey. As David wrote, create a clean heart in me! Thank You Lord, for Your forgiveness. Lord, I feel a bit of relief right now as I realize the truth in Your word that says my sin is as far from me as the East is from the West. Thank you, Lord. And Lord, please help me forgive myself. Help me also to draw nearer to You and not set myself up again for failure. In Jesus’ name, Amen.