It was a glorious day in October. You know all those poems about the beauty of autumn? Well, I’m pretty sure they were written about this particular day. After spending most of the morning in front of the computer, I decided the call to get out of the house was just too loud to ignore. I also decided I would trade in my uniform of yoga pants and old sweatshirt for a cute fall outfit. I topped my favorite jeans with a soft sweater before I turned my attention to footwear options. I caught a glimpse of animal print peeking through a plastic shoe box and I realized it had been months since I last wore those fabulous ballet-style shoes with the little black bows on top. On they went and soon I was practically skipping out the door. With the sunroof open, as I drove through town I could see the vibrant red of the maple trees and bright yellow of the chestnuts glowing against the clear blue sky. The cool breeze perked me up, and I turned up the radio so that I could sing along to my favorite ’80s tunes.
I decided to pop into one of my favorite home-décor stores and was soon happily wandering the aisles on the lookout for just the right pieces. As I meandered, I began to notice a strange sound that seemed to be following closely behind me. It took a few minutes before I realized this sound was actually coming from me! Or, more accurately, it was coming from my shoe. I looked down and noticed that the entire sole was coming off and my animal-print ballet slipper was turning into a flip-flop. Now, in that moment, I had a decision to make. I could leave my cart full of items sitting there and flip-flop my way right out of the store, or I could figure out a solution to my problem. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I had finally found the perfect duvet cover I might have chosen the first option. But instead, as inconspicuously as possible, I reached down and just pulled the bottom of the shoe right off. Yes, it made me slightly lopsided and yes, I could pretty much feel the floor through the thin layer of fabric that remained, but hey, at least I was able to make it to the counter and pay for that duvet cover before trying to inconspicuously shuffle my way out the door.
Like those cute, broken leopard-print shoes, I’ve discovered I have a tendency to hold on to my broken parts. . . . While God extends me grace, so often I fail to extend it to myself.
Once inside the safety of my car, I tried to figure out what on earth would have caused my shoe to just fall apart like that. And that’s when I remembered. All those months ago, when I had last worn those adorable shoes, I had noticed the sole coming loose a bit. But instead of fixing it, I simply stuck that broken shoe in its designated box in my closet and didn’t think about it again until this October day, when I was so certain that I was the epitome of sassy fall style. I had taken out those broken shoes, put them on, and worn them with such certainty. As I sat there holding the sole in my hand, I couldn’t help but think about how often I hold on to broken things. That decorative urn might be missing a handle, but I’m sure I can just turn it around and no one will notice. One of the fake gems fell out of that necklace and you can see the glue that held it in place, but hey, why don’t I just hang it back up with my other necklaces? The missing gem could turn up!
When I really think about this little idiosyncrasy of mine, I realize that perhaps it’s a reflection of something a bit deeper. You see, I’d like to think that when I’ve asked for forgiveness of my sins or when I’ve resolved an issue, that I’m able to simply throw them away. Rid my life of them altogether, never to see them again. But just like those cute, broken leopard-print shoes, I’ve discovered I have a tendency to hold on to my broken parts. Instead of throwing them away, I pack them up and store them on the shelves of my heart. Then I take them out and put them on over and over again. While God extends me grace, so often I fail to extend it to myself.
Isaiah 44:22 says, “I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you.” Think about that for a minute. Have you ever lay on your back and watched a cloud move across the sky? It shifts and changes before, eventually, it disappears altogether. And that exact cloud will never be seen again. That is precisely what God offers us. He gives us the chance to have our sins, our broken parts, swept away. But the thing is, I have to actually give Him that chance. In the moment of confession, I’m able to receive His mercy and forgiveness. I can feel the power of being cleansed of my sins. And yet I treat that forgiveness like a gift I’ve been handed, unwrapped, expressed appreciation for, and then turned around and given right back to the Giver. When I hold on to those broken parts, it’s like I’m telling God that even though I appreciate the gift, I simply cannot keep it. If I’m to truly experience the gift of God’s grace, there’s no room for me to grasp at the clouds of my sin as He’s trying to sweep them away.
That day, sitting in my car and holding the remains of my cute leopard- print shoes, I was faced with a choice. I could keep the broken part and try to reattach it somehow, knowing there was a good chance it would just break again. Or I could let it go. So I did. I let go of the broken shoe. And just as getting rid of those shoes freed up room in my closet, so does accepting the grace God is offering me free up room in my heart.