So it happened today. I was sitting in my comfy leather rocking chair, sipping my hot coffee with cream, staring out our bay window to the warming winter wonderland that is Klamath Falls. In the distance, over by the weathered red barn, the chickens were pecking their food and getting a drink from the frozen water trough that my husband, farmer Rob, just broke for them.
Doesn't the world seem so right in these moments?
I can see the hint of what looks like green heads poking out of the ground to my right. These tiny green heads will become the cheery yellow warmth of the daffodil flowers.
Yep, spring is coming.
There is a blazing warmth coming from the fire inside the wood stove, and my toes are nice and cozy in my fleece slippers as I look out on the last remnants of snow hiding in the northern parts of our property. The snow looks like perfect little mounds of snow-cone shavings before red syrup flavoring is poured on them: sigh, deep breath, and a feeling of deep contentment.
I've been greeting the new day morning for almost 30 years from this chair and window. What I see never gets old, and it's never disappointing. But today, as I sat in quiet contemplation, it happened—a subtle movement in the upper corner of the window. At first, I ignored it. No, you don't exist in this perfect moment. Go away. You are not welcome in this cozy moment.
But after a second buzz, I had to face the fact. A big black fly was half flying, half stagger walking around in the upper corner of the window. A fly already? It's still winter here, with nightly temperatures in the teens. Your big black buzzing ugliness is uninvited into my beautiful moment. I'm ignoring you.
But I can't.
The more I try to focus on God's beautiful creation, the more my thoughts and attention are captured by that stupid fly. A tiny spec on the window, with a faint buzz, has captured my thoughts and diverted my attention from God. Arrr...
I had to face the facts. Something had to be done about the fly before I could return to the shalom of the morning.
A tissue, a rolled-up newspaper, or get the fly swatter. What would be my weapon of choice? And just like that, it was over. Bye-bye, fly.
This made me think about God.
There are times when we come to God in quiet contemplation. We want to be close to Him, to hear from Him, to feel loved by him. We open His Word to hear Him speak right to our hearts, down into the very deepest parts of our souls. It's just getting good, and then it happens—the subtle movement in the upper thoughts of our minds or over in the corner of our hearts.
That selfish thing we said, or unkind thing we did, or evil thoughts we had. Unconfessed sin. You know, anything we think, say or do that breaks God's laws. A sin can show up like the biggest blackest blowfly, or several of them, like those pesky little face flies rapidly darting around. It takes our attention away from God, and we have to deal with it before we can move forward with Him. It doesn't change God's love for us. Not at all. It's because He loves us that He wants us to talk to Him about our sin.
As Christians, God has made it simple for us to deal with the sin that plagues our hearts and minds. Repentance. We tell God about it, turn from it, and we are on the path of change and forgiveness. Peace is restored, and you don't even have to leave the comfort of your chair or maybe your knees.
If the Holy Spirit is bringing sin to your mind, it's a kindness from God. God takes sin seriously, and yet He tells us in His Word that it's His kindness that leads us to repentance. Confess it; ask God to help you deal with it, and He will. Don't wait, do it now.
"But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness."
How thankful I am that Jesus Christ has paid the price for my sins to be forgiven. Past, present, and future. Oh, what a Savior!