the red dirt wears off

The red clay has worn off of my feet.  My farmer's tan has faded.  My body is clean, my fingernails painted, and my hair is blown dry and straightened.

I got back from Rwanda almost 6 months ago.  Why does it feel so far? Why has it been so easy to slip back into my normal American lifestyle?

We talked about not letting society creeping back into our lives.  We prayed for American culture of greediness and selfishness being rid in our lives.  We held each other accountable to the things we committed to. We swore not to let the memories not to fade.

But no matter how hard I tried, it doesn't mean as much as it did a few months ago.  I've let the memories fade and the emotions wear off.  I forget what I saw and heard in Rwanda - the faces of joy, hurt, love, and contentment. And I'm ashamed of that.

I've let the lessons I learned in Rwanda take the backseat to the culture that is in front of my eyes.  I forget to pray for my sponsor child.  I want lots of birthday presents.  I spend an exorbitant amount of money at Starbucks.  I don't cry when I hear those songs that we sang while we were there.  I waste food.  I hold grudges.  I want a big, fancy wedding.  I say that I need things, when I've seen what "need" truly is.

Don't get me wrong - I am deeply changed by what I experienced there.  I still think about it all the time.  I have a problem that the "normal" way of living here means excess. I forever have a discontentment about the poverty and need for resources around the world.  But sometimes it feels like I'm just looking at pictures, and forgetting that there are people and children there that I actually met.

Sometimes that change that occurred deep within me is suppressed by the ease of following what this American culture says is normal.  

That red clay has worn off, and all the time I wish it was still there. What do you do when the dirt is gone and you get used to "normal" American living again?

Until I figure it out, I will try to push out the deep desire to live differently because of what I've seen that I know is in me, and struggle to overcome the selfishness, forgetfulness, and pride that so naturally and easily surfaces.

its a process

Do you ever feel as if you're stuck in the same place spiritually? Like you're committing the same sins over and over, and no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to learn that lesson God is trying to teach you?

Lately I have been SO frustrated and confused about why I continuously commit the same sins over and over.  I've prayed the same prayers for forgiveness and confessed to other believers, and sometimes I think that God has probably been getting sick of me about it. 

But here's the amazing thing - He's not. It's impossible for me to wrap my mind around, because who wouldn't be frustrated with an incompetent person, repeating the same mistakes over and over?

God never gets tired of us.  He knows our weaknesses and failures.  He created us this way - Psalm 103 proves this and says "As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.  For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust." (103:13-14).

There is grace for the ways we fail. 

I was reading something by Beth Moore and it totally comforted me in my frustration over my own sin.  She was sharing the way she adores her grandson and pays attention to his every move.  She knows when he first slept through the night, when he rolled over from his stomach to his back, and when we smiled for the first time.  She cherishes every moment of his growing process, and relates it to our relationship with God this way:

"I don't sit over Jackson impatiently and wish he were suddenly grown.  I celebrate every step he takes.  Why do we think our Heavenly Father, who designed our bodies, souls, and spirits to operate just as they do, would be any different? No, God doesn't enjoy any child's stubborn unwillingness to grow up any more than I'd enjoy Jackson still crawling at six years of age.  But I'm convinced God thoroughly relishes every hint of maturity even if we feel as if we're not making progress."

I love that analogy to watching a baby grow.  You never want to rush the process, and you don't get frustrated when a baby can't do things adults can do.  That's exactly how God views us.  He watches over us and enjoys the small ways we grow, and understands when we stumble. He celebrates every step we take - even the baby steps. 

He doesn't expect our first steps to be perfect.  Or our second. Or our third.  But in every step we take, God rejoices for us.

God is with us in our struggles with sin, and when we commit the same sins again and again, He will never condemn us for them.  Romans 8:1 says "There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."

If there's anything that I've learned this year, its that our relationship with God is a process, and He understands when we stumble from time to time.  He gets it when we can't seem to fully conquer a sin and have to struggle through it. 

But there's another part of this process we need to be aware of.  We always need to be striving for growth - whether we are failing over again and again or learning and succeeding quickly.  We can't settle where we are and apathetically expect God to be happy with us.  We can't become careless about our sins, and cheaply accept the grace of God without understanding how much it cost Him.  We need to draw near to God, pushing forward through the stumbling and failures, so that we're not taking advantage of that grace.

Our growth and maturity in God is a process.  We aren't going to be perfect, or even come close to that.

There's grace for our repeated sins and constant failures.  He doesn't give up on me, and He understands that I am dust.  Praise God.