Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

I was cleaning the bathroom (oh joy) yet again, because my boys have hardly been home enough to use it, let alone clean it. As I was cleaning the mirror it jumped at me.

Not the mirror.

The realization that it doesn't really matter how beautiful the mirror is, or even how physically beautiful the reflection is, if the image is distorted.

I had some very stubborn hard water spots on the mirror to scrub off. Those spots, from a water fight gone awry, dried on the mirror and made it cloudy.

Then as I was cleaning them, the rag was leaving streaks, again distorting the image.

Finally with paper towels, water, and elbow grease I got the spots and streaks off.

But I couldn't shake the image.

No I don't mean my image.

I mean the picture of how easily distorted our views of ourselves are.

Recently, I had to write some things that were very raw for me and left me feeling quite exposed, and it frankly left me feeling quite depressed.
But as I talked over these feelings with a dear and trusted friend, I realized where the distortion was coming from.

Satan wants me to see myself from his distorted, hate and evil filled view. he wants me to feel ugly and dirty and unkempt.

God, on the other hand wants me to see who He made. One of his beautifully created children who has been out playing and gotten messy and dirty and scraped, with hair hanging all around, looking for a way to get into the door at home with hands full of mud.

He can see me for who I am. Yes, that dirty, messy, bedraggled girl. But one He can clean up, wash off, heal, and clothe with glory, His glory.

I so often forget to look at myself as He would.

I can see myself as a little girl, my hair in pigtails that have been in too long with strands hanging everywhere. Tear stains down my cheeks, mud on my hands, scrapes from my falls, and disheveled clothes with stains.

He opens the door to let me in, pulls me on to His lap and asks about my adventure. As I tell him through my tears about the fun plans I had until I fell and got scraped and dirty. Then trying to pull myself out of the mud, my feet got stuck and I could hardly move. As I was trying to get home, I got a little lost at times, sometimes sat down and cried for help. But always wanting to get home.

He would cuddle me in His arms, wipe away my tears and I would see that while I had been telling Him all about it, He had healed my scrapes, washed away my stains, cleaned the mud from my hands and feet and clothed me in His beautiful robes.

And all the while, He was cradling me in His love.

That's the view I think He has of us. His little children. His precious babies. The only thing worth sending His perfect Son to die for.

So next time you look in a mirror, ask yourself if you are seeing your true reflection. Are you aware of the distortions, or where they are coming from?

Then take a minute to see yourself as a child. One that is loved dearly. One who wants to come home and has gotten a little messy.

Ask yourself if that loving Father would open the door and pull you into His arms and heal you, and clean you and love on you. See yourself for a minute as He does.

I promise it is an image that is worth seeing. Look at it often. Trust in it. Trust in Him.

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