Hand on my mouth, my mouth in the dust

Hans is neck-deep in writing sermons for a retreat next weekend. He will be expounding on how our worship of God (or other idols) overflows into the other areas of our lives. He requested that I speak to the women on how this plays out in our lives as daughters, sisters, wives, and mothers. In preparation for that workshop, I've been studying passages on Lady Wisdom in the book of Proverbs.

The process has been slow and humiliating.

A few nights ago, I found some time to sit down and study. I was so glad that I had finally made some progress and was feeling quite lofty about the whole thing. Mere moments later, I found myself tangled in a petty disagreement with Hans, my mouth hurling foolish, hurtful words. To make matters worse, instead of apologizing right away, I even tried to justify myself.

How do I fall so far and so quickly? One moment I was listening to Lady Wisdom, thinking I understood her. The next moment, I had my face planted in dirt.

With my hand on my mouth, and my mouth in the dust, I give thanks. The Lord chastens me still. He has not given up on his disobedient child. The question is whether I am listening.

I do not have the strength to utter the words of Charles Simeon, but they serve, nevertheless, as a good aim to pursue.

Repentance is in every view so desirable, so necessary, so suited to honor God, that I seek that above all. The tender heart, the broken and contrite spirit, are to me far above all the joys that I could ever hope for in this vale of tears. I long to be in my proper place, my hand on my mouth, and my mouth in the dust... I feel this to be safe ground. Here I cannot err... I am sure that whatever God may despise... He will not despise the broken and contrite heart.