I Not Only Make Mistakes—I Feel Like One

Don’t think teens own the demographic on mistakes. I know the generation before mine was raised not to acknowledge mistakes and what a shame. My generation probably has allowed to receive too much guilt over their mistakes, admitted or not.

The millenium generation—those who are in their teens and twenties—you have the most potential of us all. You are free to make mistakes. Acknowledge them. Ask for forgiveness. Move on better than before the mistake.

Just like my teen shared in his post—to God, sin is sin. A lie is the same as murder to Him. If you have a relationship/friendship with Christ, the person next to you at heaven’s banquet will most likely surprise you.

It could be Mother Theresa.

It could also be Ted Bundy.

It doesn’t make sense, does it? Well we all have something in common with those two names.

We make mistakes. We sin.

We also have the opportunity to start over. Every single day.

Yesterday was a day. It’s felt like that for awhile. I feel like the world depends on me to hear their problems, and yet when I want to share my fears, my mistakes, my loneliness—my call is an echo in the woods no one hears. It’s been very busy, a lot of driving around for events, and I’m an introvert. I crave being alone. I energize from being away from crowds. So I’m done. Tired.

When home I’m spending hours helping another child with homework.  There doesn’t seem to be progress. So I’m not just tired, I’m feeling like a failure. I’m concerned.

And the cycle repeats.

I not only make mistakes, I feel like one.

You know what, writing that feels liberating.

How do I find freedom in writing such a confession?

Because when I utter my mistakes and sins, the true defeated one doesn’t have the upper hand. He can’t get in my business. My authenticity and seeking God gives me access to Him, and in uttering not just my mistakes and sins, my desire for forgiveness from God because of my friendship with His Son, the devil has to shut up. And in Jesus’ name, that cowardly twit has to.

And something beautiful happens.

Oh, none of my circumstances have changed. I’m still busy, tired, and concerned.

But I’m not feeling like a mistake anymore.

I’m also not a failure.

But I know who is.

And it isn’t you!

I hope this encourages you today—no matter what doctors say, teachers write, so-called friends tease you with, you are not a failure.

This Mom Wears Combat Boots

This blog is a joint venture between myself and my teenager. One day we both had “a day” and realized perhaps we aren’t the only ones out there that struggle. I know I’ve heard time and again that Christians have easy lives and are hypocrites. I spend enough time with kids, teens, and watch their parents to know life is anything but easy, especially for a young person.

This blog is our way of venting, but being authentic, and letting you know if you feel like we do, you aren’t alone, and you matter. Our hope is you are encouraged, challenged, and inspired as you read our posts.

As for me, what’s a mom to do when she reads a post like the one her teen just wrote above? TBH, it depends on the day. Some days I’m full of faith and I’m on my knees because I know the battle against my child and their friends is a spiritual one. I totally get that this age group is ripe and IMO, the ones that will lead the way for the church to experience the greatest awakening the world has EVER known. With that kind of movement, expect some opposition. It’s no shock to me that kids are committing suicide at younger and younger ages, that bullying is off the charts, and cutting is the relief kids are seeking because all the other answers aren’t working for them. It’s a spiritual battle, and I am a mom that literally and prayerfully wears combat boots.

Then there are other days I want to put on the pretend clothes the kids used when they were younger.  My child admitting depression? Hand me the doctor’s kit and tool belt because I want to fix this. I want to take the people that hurt their feelings and put the fear of God in some wounded bullies and their IMO, checked-out parents. I want to run to Wal*Mart and buy out the bubble wrap and pack my kid in it, for decades. More than anything, I want to take their pain and hide it, erase it, do whatever it takes to make sure it doesn’t happen.

Today is a day I stand with one foot in faith and the other in bubble wrap. The teen years are not easy to navigate for anyone, not for the teen, and not for the parent. I’m human and there are days I’m scared and want to give up. I’m still working through my childhood experiences, how can I possibly be fit to know how to lead this child through their years?

Faith for me is not about rules, but the relationship I have with Christ. He is my Source and strength, and He gives me strategies, revelation, encouragement, and yes, when I need it, a loving chastisement. He shows me things not from my perspective, but His, and it’s always just enough to spur me on instead of giving up. He’s made it clear that not only is this age group marked for greatness in furthering His Kingdom, this child of mine has special purpose. I have no idea what that means, but I know the plan to distract, discourage, and yes, ultimately destroy him is on much like your spy movie when an operative becomes a target.

My heaven-sent strategy?

Realize the devil’s plan is to make every believer feel defeated. As heaven never runs out of resources and will never need a budget, the devil has been in crisis mode since Calvary. Every time he uses a trick, his stash depletes, so he has to use easy plans that work.

To my child, and anyone reading this, YOU ARE NOT THE DEFEATED ONE, NOT EVER. That is the devil, truly defeated, always, never lose sight of that. You get a grip on that and watch the depression ease. In the name of Jesus’ I proclaim depression and the temptation to cut be sent packing back to hell where the idea came from.

The rest of the strategy? Put on my combat boots and stay on my knees.

Care to join me?

Images from Photobucket