Day 3000 of the 7 day Bible verse challenge.

Romans 7:18 NIV

Sometimes a reflection is the hardest thing to look at.

I think that's a heavy truth that all of us can agree with. Oftentimes the last place we want to look is in the mirror because we know that all we'll see looking back at us is a reflection a person we’re not proud of being. We know that we'll only see eyes filled with a pain still carried from all the moments and mistakes that we've complied in our time spent trying to avoid trying. We know that we've failed to be what we should have been and seeing that in real-time is a burden sometimes too miserable to bear.

The cold hard reality is that each of us have made a great many concessions and they've all resulted in a life lived a far cry from who we thought we could be, from who we've pretended to be, from who we've been called to be. All those mistakes and failures and failures to stop making mistakes, they've added up to the wonderful sum of a life void of growth, wisdom, achievement and even honesty.

And our undeniable awareness of our true condition has grown into a reality that has sought to undermine every future attempt at growth and improvement, because somewhere along the way we all bought this most deadly idea. It's an instinctual internal perspective that's only furthered with a plethora of external agreement. It's this factory setting to which we always seek to resolve as it affords us the ability to forgo the harder aspects of effort.

Yes, I'm convinced that one of the most destructive words in all of human language is the word can't. And it's followed eerily close by its rather rhyming cousin, quit.

That's the painful part of looking at our reflection staring back at us in the mirror. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words, and seeing ourselves looking at ourselves is a picture worth all the words needed to recount our every failure and flaw. And knowing all the times that we've fallen and failed to be anything but a fallen failure reminds us of those two words, can't and quit. And we sadly agree that we can't be anything other than what we've been, and so we agree to quit before we even try.

All because we’ve been taught that a reflection is able to tell the whole story. And well, if all we see are the scars left by all the times we’ve tried before and failed, then we’ll rightly assume that should we try again, we’ll only fail again too. And let’s just be honest, bouncing off rock bottom gets a little harder every time. And at some point, if we’re not careful and courageous, we’ll just agree to stay down there and skip the hard part of falling back down after another failed attempt to climb.

The mirror and I have had a rocky relationship for a really long time. And I’d assume that most could say the same thing. It’s like I’ve always had these ideas hidden deep beneath the excuses I’ve chosen to give the authority to keep me broken and defeated. And looking in the mirror shows only the reflection of the hollow person who would make such a foolish choice. And I’ve just tired of seeing an image of something I know is a shadow of what those dreams have said is possible.

But still, where did those ideas come from? Why are they always still there? Why hasn’t the defeat I’ve always accepted ever been allowed to be finalized, leaving those dreams in the dust? Must be that something bigger, Someone bigger is there keeping them alive. Must be that He’s not as ready nor as willing to set aside His plans for our lives as we’ve always been. Must be because He really does see what we can’t in the reflections blurred by lies.

Must be that He still sees the good in us that He planted inside before we allowed all the failures and flaws to rise to the surface convincing us that there’s nothing good in us at all.

Growing up, I'd look in the mirror knowing I'd be unhappy with what I saw. Surrounded by a world of normality and kids in cool clothes who could run faster and win the races to dance with all the pretty girls in school, I was ashamed of who I was. I was bigger than most, rather rotund as it would seem. Not as fast, not athletic, not what I wanted to be. And I would see that realization every time I looked in the mirror, trying to see the reasons why I couldn't be something better, but instead only finding the excuses I always trusted to tell me I couldn’t.

And as I grew, that looking in the mirror turned into a looking inside still seeking those same answers as to why I was such a far distance from what I always wanted to be, what I always dreamed I could be, what I always knew I could be. Only, it wasn't just a physical problem anymore. It was the weight of the guilt that I'd found down all the wrong roads of life following the many mistakes I didn't want to admit I was making.

For a long time I've known that the mirror couldn't possibly tell the full story, but it doesn't seem to lie either. And so I've found myself floating out on the fringes of where I am and where I want to be, not at all sure how to reconcile the two into a life with a singular direction. Because I didn’t realize that I’d discounted God’s grace all those years to the point that I allowed the mirror to speak more loudly than the truth.

But then something happened a few years ago. Something that opened my eyes to just how wrong I’ve been to keep stopping at assuming I’m only what I can see. Something that finally helped me see that there was more inside than what a reflection could show. I got tired of waiting, wondering, wishing for something different. And in a tiny gym at our old apartment I decided to find out why I couldn't be something better. I decided to find out if there really wasn’t anything better beneath the surface. I decided to find out if there was anything good left in me that was dying slow as it was left dormant below the lies and excuses that I always listened to.

130 pounds later and I realized why. Wasn't that I couldn't, just that I wouldn't. It wasn’t that there wasn’t any fight inside, just that I was starving it to death with excuses. It wasn’t that there wasn’t any good in me, I just lost it behind all the bad that the mirror showed. I chose so many days to look in that mirror and see only the reasons I couldn't be anything other than what I'd always been. I saw only excuses to quit so that I didn’t have to risk failing or being proven right in my sad assumption that I wasn’t worth more. But tragically, I’ve realized that I’ve allowed for the same failures in my faith.

This all hit me like a hurricane yesterday as I forced myself to look up into the mirror after making a mistake I've made countless times across the majority of my life. And as that same old voice started speaking once more saying that I’m nothing, that there is no good in me, that I can't be anything different, I remembered another story that's been told far longer than lies I tell myself, the lies you tell yourself, the lies that we all settle for agreeing with.

The cross says that there’s something so good inside each of us that our Savior was willing to die in order to help us finally see it for ourselves. That cross tells us that a change in perspective, a change in effort, a change in reality is not only possible, but it's mandatory.

It’s the story of a love that doesn’t look at the outward appearance, but instead looks at the heart of a person. It’s the story of a kind of mercy that effortlessly overcomes our failed efforts to be anything worth that kind of grace. It’s the story of the One who created us reminding us that He created us for more than we’ve settled for remaining. It’s the story of a God who created a people in His image, a people created to do good, a people who sadly forgot it.

But we've bought that idea that we can't be better, stronger, healthier, wiser, more faithful, more courageous, more humbly obedient for so long that even the Gospel has its hands full in breaking down the walls of disgruntled deception that we've constructed. Even the image of the cross can struggle to shine past the memories we see whenever we see a reflection of ourselves. Even the many reminders in Scripture telling us how much He loves us still battle with the lies we tell ourselves saying that there’s nothing good inside of us.

Because, how do you reconcile a Savior who did all that with a miscreant who so clearly doesn't deserve it? How do you connect those lines of salvation and a sinful life? How do you add His everything with our nothing and come out with anything? How can He possibly be enough to make up for all we've failed to be? How can there be anything in us that’s in any way worth what He did, what He felt, what He went through? How can you accept this story of a love you know you don’t deserve?

Well, if we truly agree to hold to that lie that we can't be anything but what we've always been then you can't. You see, He doesn't force us to accept His offer of a new life. He doesn't force His change into our hearts. He doesn’t make us see the good things that we can’t seem to see anymore. He doesn't scream so as to talk over the lies that we allow to speak so loudly. He whispers, "Get up." "Try again." "You can." "Trust me."

"Trust me."

As I've sat here for 3,000 days in a row trying to unravel this impossible mystery as to how He could possibly love a man like me, I can say with all honesty that I still have no idea. I have no idea. Because honestly, there are more days where I despise myself and the stupid things I do than there are days where I don't mind looking in the mirror. I have no idea what He sees in me, but only this relentless hope that He really does see what I still so often can't.

There's that word again, can't.

Although, this time, in this light, on this side of a faith that tells me it's not all about me, I realize that my can't can't overpower His can. I realize that my eyes have been stained by the sins of my past, and that sometimes I just struggle to see past them. I realize that my version of this story has no bearing on His glory. No, that's what I've learned over the days and years of trying to capture Him in words:

I can't.

And as much as the old me, who still seeks to ruin the new me, would see that as a failure, faith says it's a promise. That I can't contain Him in words points only to the fact that He is entirely bigger than the best I can offer. And considering that all throughout my past my best has been nothing but a disaster, my failures only make my faith all the more incredible. My awareness that there’s so very little good in me speaks only to the amazing grace that reminds me that He died for me anyway.

It's amazing what His grace can do when it seems that we've done more than enough to drive Him away. All the days spent convinced that you could never be enough were erased on the cross. All the moments of doubting that you could ever change were buried in a tomb. All the times you thought you couldn't be loved because you couldn't even love yourself were proven wrong on Calvary.

That's the biggest lesson that I've learned in this daily book report on the Bible that I've been writing for over eight years.

We can't, and because we can’t, we can. We can't undo His victory, but we can accept it. We can't overrule His love, but we can allow it to heal us. We can't outrun His mercy, but we can allow ourselves to realize how badly we need it. We can't disprove His grace, but we can realize that He’s proven our efforts spent trying to earn it still can’t earn it.

We can't erase His suffering. We can't empty His tomb. We can't do or undo any of what He's done and decided and defeated. But we can allow Him to be the hero of this story that we need Him to be. Because He did it because He wanted to. Not because we were worthy or could ever become worthy. Not because we deserved it, because we clearly do not. Not because of who we are, what we see, how we think, how we feel, or anything else formed or founded on us.

It's Him.

And realizing that He's always seen what I never did, and still often fail to, it reminds me that it's not about me. I have a part to play. I have a path to walk. I have a faith to live. But the fact that I can even say that, the fact that I have hope, the fact that I'm still breathing just proves to me that this story isn't over. And that same truth goes for every one of us who humbly crawl our broken selves back to His feet every single day trying to carry with us less of a mess than the day before.

It's not because we can be what He deserves, but because He's given us what we don't deserve, we can at least try and see just how far we can go battling to follow the footsteps of the One who so selflessly and lovingly and kindly and mercifully leads us away from what we always thought we couldn't leave behind.

His grace is the story. And He died to prove it.

Friends, believe me, I know that there are days where our mistakes will say that we're too far gone. Our failures will try to convince us that we can't be anything better. We will stumble. We will fall. We will fail. We will still sadly listen to what we think we can’t do, to what we think we can’t be, to what we’re convinced isn’t inside of us anymore. But if we really do believe in our faith, in the cross, in the Gospel, in the Word of God, then stopping at what we think we are just seems dumb. Because if our faith is real to us, then we should know that He didn't die for nothing. He died so that we could be something better, because He knew we were something better.

He died to end our excuses, our foolishness, our willingness to listen to all the lies saying that He can’t possibly be that full of grace as to cover all our issues. That’s what faith is for, to believe that He can. And we get to spend the rest of our days trying to wrap our minds around that kind of love, rather than letting them stay filled with all the lies that say it’s impossible.

We will often fail to see what He sees in us. But it’s not our vision that matters. It’s not what the mirror says that matters. It’s not even what our pasts say that matters. It’s what the cross says. And considering that He died on that cross for a bunch of people who were still living as His enemies, He must have clearly known that some would be changed, healed, saved by His sacrifice. He didn’t do that for nothing. He did it to help us see beyond what we’ve always believed about ourselves.

Yes, we are sinners. But He died to turn us in the saved. We’ve lived a life filled with very little good. And if He was willing to die for that, He must know that there’s far more good left in us than we can imagine. And if we can finally agree to let Him in, well, then we’ll have even more good in us. If He was willing to die for the chance that we might follow Him and see why, then I guess we should follow Him and see why.

He took the chance, why shouldn’t we?

#LeaveNoSoulUntold