Who do you think you are?
You have really done it this time!
Have you ever wondered what the first accusation you heard was? I know I have.
A two year old knocking something off a table? A three year old coloring the walls? There were well meaning, but frail and frustrated care takers, injecting something that never was part of God’s plan.
Oh accusation, how I wish we had never met. I despise you because of the way you warp what was once joy in who God made me into rejection of that same person.
After only a few meetings, I no longer need you. I take on your role and accuse myself.
There, in my own mind, is where I lose the battle.
There, in the defenselessness of my own thoughts, it seems you have won, once and for all.
When the accusation comes from within–from my innermost thoughts and beliefs–then I am trapped in an inescapable corner. It is here I find, again, how deeply I need a Savior – not only to save me from the price of sin and the wrath of God, but to save me from my own thoughts and beliefs.
Accusation attacks my identity. Who do you think you are? You don’t have the right to something so high.
While the Lord will bring correction to an action, He does so in the context of the expectation of greatness He places on the lives of His sons and daughters. Conviction is His tool. It is His enemy that uses accusation. Every time I accuse myself, my brothers, or sisters I am agreeing with the enemy and giving that evil tool of accusation a place in my life.
Now, I am beginning to recognize accusation, to stand against it rather than with it! I stare it down when I look in the mirror, at a body that has a long way to go. I contend with it when I am brave enough to step on the scale, and choose to believe that my worth has not increased or decreased proportionally.
I face it when I choose what mindset I will adopt with a home that needs more hours than I have today to fix it, my kids who despite my best efforts STILL leave their shoes outside to be rained on, and find myself falling short of the friend I wanted to be. While none of these situations seem terribly heroic, I believe rejecting these accusations is one of the most faith filled and challenging things I do in my day.
When it comes to me, physically, I am very much on a journey and very far from having arrived. But the grace of Jesus is challenging me to believe I could be and in truth already am more than how I look.
My spirit, where God has promised His Spirit will live, is alive forever. My body is a tent, a dwelling, and not the truest description of who I am. It is perhaps a reflection of who I have been – how I have eaten, how I have exercised, diseases battled and children birthed. It has been a wonderful instrument that has taken me everywhere I have needed to go. But it is not ME, and your body is not YOU – the real essence of you – the you that Jesus died to save. He cares about our bodies, but cares more about the true you and about the true me.
As I turn away from accusations that have followed me like a ghost, I find the power to change. No longer is turning down a candy bar (or failing to do so) essential to my value as a person – it is just a candy bar. Devoid of its power to accuse, so does it lose its power to entice. And for the first time in my life I see it as the idol it has been – deaf, dumb and mute, without power to help me in any way, but that I gave my affections to over and over again.
As I see its powerlessness, I find freedom to make better choices, choices that leave me feeling better physically and better about myself. God’s steadfast love is there moment by moment, and that is becoming so much more attractive to me than so many other unrequited loves that never satisfy.
Join me in rebelling against the power of accusation. Let’s teach our children how to fight and resist accusations, and to live in the knowledge of God’s wonderful extravagant love. When the accusations try to gain a foothold let us proclaim loudly once more with the great cloud of witnesses – “I need no other argument, I need no other plea; it is enough that Jesus died, and that He died for me!”
Emily Cox is a mother of a girl and two boys, a homeschool teacher, and has worked as a high school teacher and professor, children’s pastor and a missionary in Asia. She enjoys meeting people from around the world and helping them encounter the all sufficient love of Jesus for the first or five thousandth time.