Set Free From Self-Righteousness: A Tale of Summer's Grace

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 1 Corinthians 12:9 NIV

I entered into the Summer season committed to being the fun mom.

The present mom. The craft mom, the outdoors mom, the discipleship mom… need I go on?

There were a lot of marks I hoped to hit as I stepped into this past Summer.

What I didn’t realize was that buried underneath all these good ideas was a soul striving for worth in all the wrong ways. I didn’t know it yet, but I was operating in such away that my inner peace was becoming linked to my outer ability to live my best intentions.

As you might imagine—tucked between varied moments of fun—were plenty of moments of failure. And as the Summer carried along, seeds of discouragement started burying deep. By the time disaster struck at the end of the season, I was deep into a cycle of striving and discouragement.

And the God of all grace was in preparations to break me free…

You see, problem with this Summer was that the bar I had set for myself was almost attainable. (Or so I thought.)

Being a perfect mom wouldn’t be easy, but maybe it could be possible… (Bear with me for a moment of dry humor.)

Maybe, just maybe, if I got enough sleep, had a protein-packed breakfast, and my kids fought with one another less than three times total that day, I could lay my head on the pillow that night fully satisfied with my impressive span of patience, peace, and joy from the day! Righteousness engaged!

Humor aside, I flopped in this endeavor a lot. But, every so often, it almost seemed like I was hitting the mark. And being close enough became my encouragement to keep striving.

Until I hit exhaustion.

And that’s where I found myself two weeks before my children headed back to school—and in the moment my husband had a health emergency that knocked him on his feet.

I was already burnt out when my husband’s back broke down. A bulging disc in his spine took a turn for the way-worse, and the next few weeks would feel like a blur as agonizing pain afflicted my husband, and we counted down the minutes until an emergency spine surgery would set him back on his feet (or at least on the road to recovery).

And it was in these weeks that God showed me—in his abounding mercy—the incapability of my best attempts.

I wanted to give my all to my hurting husband, but the demands this circumstance required of me were simply too much for the strength of my flesh. I limped to the pillow each night, laid my head down, and saw a filmset of failures stream through my mind.

As I thought back on my Summer with the kids, I may not have been able to be perfect, but some days, I at least felt close enough for my own comfort level. This circumstance with my husband—however—left me understanding that my own strength was simply never going to cut it.

Maybe this realization sounds peaceful, and I suppose eventually it was, but there was a storm that came before the calm.

There were weeks of anger. So much anger that I couldn’t quite understand.

I now realize this anger—this despair, discouragement, and shame—was the fruit of approaching life in a way that linked my own steady performance to my soul’s peace.

It wasn’t the peace that Jesus offered—it was shaky, unreliable, and (most days) unattainable.

Like a rock ready to catch me at the rockbottom of my own devices, Jesus swept me up in my anger and whispered to me a new way to walk.

There was a visual I kept coming back to that captured what Jesus was doing in my heart at this time—and it’s a visual I hope can cause you to consider where you’re placing your present hope, and if there might be an invitation present to embrace God’s grace in a new way today.

Here is the imagery (and you can find a sketch of it down below).

It seemed as though there was a bar I was trying to reach. This bar represented my righteousness. I had decided at the outset of Summer what “righteousness” might look like, and while the bar was high, I believed that if I stood on my tip toes (and arranged my day just so and really strived), I could touch the bar and be at peace with God and myself.

I used all kinds of tools to try to touch the bar—but they utilized God’s precious gifts to us (such as His Word, church community, and prayer) as methods for striving as opposed for methods to build me up in grace and faith. It was like I grabbed my Bible and tried to use it as a stepping stool, just to get a little higher to the bar.

What happened when my husband encountered his back injury, was it felt like the bar got way higher. I was still giving my best efforts. I still wanted to be selfless, joyful, and kind—but the ways I was falling short were both palpable and humiliating. Being “my best self” was obviously not happening, and anger began to rise up.

I felt like a kid in a schoolyard being taunted by a bully who was holding a stick high above my head and laughing as I jumped as high as I could and still couldn’t reach it.

But Jesus doesn’t tell us to jump. And Jesus doesn’t laugh at us like that.

Jesus doesn’t tell us to weary ourselves. Jesus doesn’t taunt us when we fail.

This is the kind of thing that Jesus says:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30

What my soul needed to be reminded of, was that Jesus has effectively closed the gap between us and the righteousness we long for. And when we lose sight of his sufficiency for us, we are met by misery in our souls!

Because our soul’s were made to breathe in the fresh air of his mercy. To drink deeply of his grace. And to find refreshment in the light of his presence.

I’m so thankful Jesus allowed all of this to break. Because you see, it wasn’t me he was breaking, but all the idols that had deceived me into thinking that they were what I needed to find peace.

The right behavior, the right stepping stool, my own self-righteousness.

But I was never meant to define my own bar, or reach my righteousness according to my own devices. The cross was always meant to fill the gap.

In the end, I saw that sometimes God’s grace allows for circumstances that stretch us beyond our own abilities—in order for us to be snapped out of false ways of thinking that aren’t doing our souls any good.

He is kind towards us, always. And his mercies never fail. May we embrace Jesus today for all he is for us—all he is for all we aren’t. This is the hope of the Gospel!

Bless you today as you trust in Him!