World Changer or Not...

I was thinking about women in the Bible this past weekend. I thought on Mary, the mother of Christ, Esther, Ruth; all these women of power, women of strength, women of virtue and conviction. All these women changed history. The more I thought about them the more I realized that I have very little in common with any of them. Sure, I've been called an "Esther" before (whatever that means), but I believe that is merely because people in my life could see me marching into the throne room, ready to risk my life for a nation. And perhaps that is true, but what is more true is that I lack what most of these women had. I lack what God saw in Mary, the favored one.

These women are like my Leah. They had mastered that quiet, gentle spirit as has she. They had lived their lives faithful to the One they loved. Women like Leah deserve to stand in front of multitudes and preach the gospel and have it heard. Women like my darling sister have the right to offer the nations a man such as Jesus, because they are blameless, righteous, lovely. They exemplify the Bride of Christ on her wedding day--clothed in white, elegant, and gracious.

Women like Rahab, Mary Magdelene, and Gomer... Women like me, though integral to the story, important to the tale of redemption... We don't change history. We don't rewrite it.

We can't stand in front of a multitude and ask them to trust us, to trust what we're saying because we have lied, we have manipulated, we have deceived with a sinful grin. We have been redeemed, we have been saved, but at a price and at a cost.

I guess what I'm thinking, not necessarily what I believe, but what I'm battling with is the thought that maybe you were right. Maybe people don't change. Maybe my tale will always be one of 10 steps forward, 2 steps back. But those two steps sometimes feel like you've tumbled all the way down the mountain. And sometimes when you've added in the consequences of those two steps, you may as well have tumbled all the way back down the mountain.

And you just get to the point where you look up at the mountain from the dirt and you can't help but feel like maybe you should just stop trying. Maybe you will never be "righteous" because that part of your life has already passed you by. You sold yourself once for a dollar because you just couldn't wait for the millions. And now, you don't even have that dollar.

You're left with haunting memories, painful regrets, and worse: the notion that you'll never be loved again and possibly that you've never been loved at all.

....

God, I can't fathom your grace. Help me.

Satan, you suck.

Pride, you're a bastard.

And Anna... Sweet Anna, you are loved. Dearly and preciously. World changer or not, you are loved.