I am on the floor.
I laid facedown on the cold, hard floor because I could not lift my eyes to You. How could I have failed You again? My kneecaps shifted painfully and my chest hurt as my ribcage flattened under my weight. My arms were drawn inward so my hands could hide my eyes from seeing or being seen. My forehead and nose lay pressed against the unforgiving wood laminate.
I didn’t deserve Your forgiveness. I laid there wallowing in the words of David from the fifty-first Psalm: “My sin is ever before me…I was born in iniquity; conceived in sin” (ESV). I became the apostle Paul when he wrote in Romans chapter seven that “no good thing dwells in me…For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing…wretched man that I am!” Far too wretched to fight any longer. What’s the use? I am too spiritually exhausted to even weep over my failure anymore. I am dry. I am done. I have nothing. I am nothing.
I feel You continually reach out to me. You speak through the words of the Bible, of course, but even through other books and articles I read. Sharp, convicting statements which surely were not so intended by the author. Scanning through the radio stations and being reminded that stubbornly following my own will and desires has me on a “Highway to Hell.” A glorious sunrise which appears every morning without fail to show Your power and glory and to remind me there is hope with each new day. These happen far too often to be mere coincidence. The hounds of heaven persist in their hunt.
Still, I am on the floor.
Unable and unwilling to rise any higher by my own strength. It is only then that my feeble hand crawls away from my face and reaches out to find Your hand waiting.
Then the tears do come. How can You love me at all, let alone so much? It is not because of my worthiness, but because of Yours. Because You are Who You are. What You are. Paul made this same realization in 2nd Corinthians chapter twelve. God’s strength is (and can only be) revealed in our weakness and need. When I am weak, then I am strong. I am certainly weak at this point. So weak that I cannot rise above the floor. Above my sin. Above myself. The hand which brushed Yours now grasps it firmly, clutching with desperation. Warm love radiates through my fingers and up my arm. It builds into throbbing power which gives life to my body dead in sin.
At last, I find the strength to rise, but only to my knees. I must remain there for now. Eyes still clamped shut, closing out the world which threatens to distract me from You. There, in the quiet darkness behind my eyes, I praise You for not giving up on me even when I quit on myself. I praise You for the thousands of reminders and whispers which have brought me to this point of epiphany. I still dare not rise off my knees. The floor remains just as hard and unforgiving but not You, oh Lord, not You. I must remain here to praise You still longer.
Haven’t I been here before? In this same, exact place? Promising to do better and try harder only to fail again and again. My shoulders slump. The floor beckons me to return.
NO! Today is different!
I hear a malevolent chuckle. “Fool, child. You’ve said that before, too,” the serpent hisses. You shut up! It doesn’t matter! I may fail again but I WILL try. No, I won’t “try,” I will succeed! I will make it today because there is no greater power in the universe than the God who loves me and walks with me.
Now, I can get off my knees and prepare for battle. It will be a battle, no doubt. I reach for the only weapon suitable for this warfare—my sword. I quickly turn to Romans chapter seven and read the words of Paul’s despair because I know how it turned out. That miserable state of futile agony gives way to victory in chapter eight. Though I am often tempted to condemn myself for repeated failure I read: “THERE—IS—NOW—NO—CONDEMNATION—TO—THOSE—WHO—ARE—IN—CHRIST—JESUS!” (Romans 8:1).
I jab each word with a stiffened finger, as if into the eye of my enemy to prove how wrong he is. How wrong I am. Paul is invigorated, full of God’s victorious Spirit, and asks five rhetorical questions: If God is for us, who can be against us? No one! If God did not withhold His own Son, what gifts will He fail to give us? None! Who shall bring charges against God’s chosen? Nobody! Who is he who condemns? No one! Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Nobody!
My face sags as I realize that somebody can. I can. Only I can. That’s what I’ve been doing. Lord, I beg you to give me the strength to stop doing that. I cannot find this strength in myself, You know that. I beg You to be my strength where I have none. Squeeze my hand when I begin to let go. Otherwise, I will be right back on the cold, hard floor again tomorrow. And when I fail You again tomorrow, Lord, I pray You grant me the strength to rise to my knees to praise You once more and try again.