mud pits.

the christian walk is a mess.

i'm just going to put it out there.  no one really told me how messy it would be.  or, maybe they did, but I didn't hear it because i was too wrapped up in thinking i had all my bases covered.  but please, hear me:  it. is. messy.

and, that's okay.

now, i know i never heard that one.  that it's okay to be a mess.  i certainly didn't see it, as we cover up our wounds and struggles and vulnerabilities with a prayer shawl and cardigan.  we tuck our fears and sins and missteps in the place in leviticus where the pages are still stuck together.  we are told to pray it away, to be in the word, to seek Godly counsel.

but then, what then, when those things fail to make it all look clean and tidy again?

you've gotta wade through the muck.  you may wind up getting stuck there for a while.

but i beg of you, do not wear the mud like shame.  it will wash off.  it may take some heavy scrubbing, but please don't think it forever changes who you are.

some people (i'm preaching to a mirror from the pulpit here), view this muck more like an eternal scarlet letter.  everything the Bible says about redemption is practically thrown out the window.  grace is a mystery and shouldn't even be mentioned.  you've made a choice that will stick to you forever; this muck is more like cement than a blend of common elements.

i call bullshit.

you heard me.  i call BS on that ish.

the walk is messy.  if it never was going to get that way, we'd still be eating figs in the Eden Nudist village.  it's through rocks, and glass shards, and quicksandesque places.  it's also through beautiful valleys, and rigid mountain tops, and exquisite flora and tempting fauna.  no two walks are the same, although you'll certainly encounter some people that once passed through, or stopped and stayed a while, in some of the same spots on the map.

but you are a citizen of heaven.  your nationality is righteousness, your identity is a child of God.  you do not become a resident of these places, no longer how long they've hosted you.  you are on a journey, and not a perfect one, towards eternity.

the trouble with the mountain top is three-fold: there's no where to go when you get there. nothing can grow on the mountain top.  and the forgotten third is that from there, that little mud puddle you stepped in isn't even visible.  either for yourself, who thought you'd be stuck there forever, or for the others, that you swear will only forever emblazon your journey with that as the branding.

also, that mountain top makes it very hard for that person to see their own mud pit anymore.

and that's a dangerous place to stand.  the only way is down, and it's hard to remember where you came from. you think you've got it all figured out, and then, all of the sudden, you realize your descending, it's dark and damp, and you didn't pack any food.

wherever you are in your journey, please be encouraged that it's not over yet.  it's not.  you're never too far behind, too damaged, too dirty to be used.

When Jesus came, did you ever notice He didn't even try to disciple the Pharisees?  instead, he came to rescue those stuck in the mud pits of their lives.  to clean those off that may have crawled out on their own.  to walk with those that hadn't yet stepped in it, to carefully guide them in an alternate route.