For some reason I've had some exceptionally bad days this month, kind of like Alexander and his awful day.
Did you read this book as a child, or read it to someone else? Its a cute book about a boy who has, obviously, a less than desirable day. Everything goes wrong from the moment he wakes up to the moment his head hits the pillow that night.
I've had a couple doozies myself lately. The kind where you are cruising along with your plans and activities and suddenly something comes (seemingly) out of nowhere and the next thing you know you are crying to a bank teller and ordering a large Zaxby's banana pudding milkshake.
Maybe the same things happen to you as they do to me in those moments, during those days of inexcusable caloric intake and emotional derailing. At first I feel shocked when things go wrong. I plan ahead, I'm careful, I make lists, I get to the departure gate on time, I communicate well with people. But sometimes bad things happen anyway, to good and not-so-good people.
Like getting stranded overnight in airports twice in the span of a week, or realizing you budgeted out your month wrong, or coming up short on bills, or feeling like a failure, or realizing that sometimes you really are alone, or being hurt by friends, or even the lies of debilitating self-loathing.
I screwed up some things, and then some things out of my control messed me up pretty good as well. I felt like the cartoon characters who get punched so many times they start seeing stars and birdies.
I felt miserable, hurt, worthless, angry, and all those other un-lovely emotions.
It was like my heart went into auto-pilot in self-defense, immediately barring down the doors to "protect" me. And in the middle of it I could feel my spirit pulling me, straining, groping for Truth. For Hope. The God-fearing, Jesus-loving part of me pushed back against those doors, willing them to stay open, to stay vulnerable. Those bad days I was at constant war with myself. I wanted to give in to self-pity so badly I could taste it in every sip of my Zaxby's milkshake. But my spirit wouldn't allow it. It claimed Truths I wanted to ignore. It reminded me of promises I so easily forgot. It sang songs of hope even though my voice was raw with emotion. It persevered when I felt like giving up.
The thing that defined those days for me wasn't necessarily how bad they were (and they were bad), but by how much of a battle I was in between my Flesh and my Spirit. It was real. And I fought hard to take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.
I slipped heavily, and fell hard, as I always do. But I thanked Him still. I had to, because I knew He was with me throughout it all. And whether I chose to believe his promises or not, they were still true.
He is my provider. He is my solace. He is my protector. He is my defender. He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
His mercies are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness!
I hope and pray that next time you have a bad day, you remember those facts sooner and more easily than I did!
