I Don't See Things the Way God Does

When I look at myself, all I see are my imperfections. I see my failures. I see the broken hearts of people who have looked to me for help and found I was unable to do anything for them. I see my own hurts from past relationships staring back at me. How could I have hurt you the same way I was hurt? How could I do such a thing?

People have come to me. People have looked to me. People have depended on me, and I was unable to support them, so I withdrew. Were they hurt by my actions? Did they look at me and say, “Why couldn’t you trust Jesus enough to love me like the Father?” I don’t know. I was overwhelmed, exhausted, and crippled with insomnia. I never followed up with them to see if their lives fell apart after I disappeared. I guess Jesus took care of them when I couldn’t. Because he is always before the Father interceding on their behalf.

The very thing I want to do, I have not the power. The thing I don’t want to do, that is what I keep on doing. If I know the good I ought to do but do not do it, that is sin. Alas, who shall rescue me from this body of death?

In the same way, I have disappointed a lot of customers. They come to pick up their cakes and a cloud passes over their eyes. The very thing I wanted to do, please the customer, I failed to accomplish. And I fear that is my identity. I fear everyone will look at my work and feel disappointment. 

I met a friend a few weeks ago who looked at me and said, “God doesn’t see you the way you see yourself.”

I had an informal interview, a chat, with a man who knows everything about food. He wants me to work for him because I like to make beautiful food, and as he opened my portfolio I held my breath. Would he like them? Would he see every imperfection? Would disgust cross his face?

“Wow,” he said.

Wow? He actually liked them? He actually saw something beautiful? It’s one thing when my friends and family tell me my cakes are beautiful. They are obligated to think so. I never know if their judgements are true or come from a place of love for me, a place that thinks that everything I do is beautiful regardless of its quality. It’s another thing when the man who knows all about food says my cakes are so beautiful I should be on TV.

And what about God? How does God see me?

When God looks at me, he does not see my sins. Once, I was dressed in dirty rags, but he has given me white linen garments to wear. He has given me righteous acts to wear instead of the evil I’d worn before. He has washed me clean in the Blood of Jesus. The Blood poured over me, seeped through my skin, and changed my very DNA. It’s not just clean robes I wear. It’s not like underneath those robes is the same old filthy Beth. God doesn’t clean the outside of the cup and leave the inside dirty. He doesn’t whitewash his tombs. He resurrects the death from inside the tomb. He brings life when there was only death, and he leaves the tomb clean and tidy, nor forgetting to fold the wrapping that covered my dead face.

When God looks at me, he sees his favorite daughter (which, we are all his favorite). When God looks at me, he sees his treasure and the delight of his eyes. When God looks at me, he feels joy.

Things to Pray for:

I'm feeling very anxious about the things I feel God wants me to do. 

I also have some drama, maybe self created, that I'm not really sure what to do about.