So, a few posts ago I said that I wanted this blog to uplift, not bring down. But you know what, I'm just not in an uplifting mood. I don't have any 'sing and be happy' in me today. No, I just don't.

I hurt. This hurt is different, though. This hurt today is deep in my core. Deep in my soul. It is that Godly sorrow I once spoke of. Though I can't be sure I spoke of it here without going back and looking, rest assured, I spoke of it. Today is Easter. Well, technically yesterday was. But I'm still awake, so to me it's still Easter. It was a hard day for me. A really hard day. And even though all of the reasons I have for it being a hard day are legitimate, I had a hard day for all the wrong reasons. How sad.

I have been a Christian since I was eight years old. My Daddy baptized me the day after my eighth birthday. I remember it like it was yesterday. Service was over and everyone was leaving. I said 'Daddy, I need to be baptized. We can't go'. He told me to wait, that maybe we should talk about it. I knew he thought I was too young. I'm pretty sure everyone did. But I was certain. After all, I'd been going to church since I was four days old. I knew what I needed to do. I knew why, even. I knew what Salvation was. I knew what repentance was. I knew what a cross was. And how Jesus died on it for me. I knew that. And I knew that this was a life-long deal. I have my grandfather to thank for that. I remember my aunt was there. She said that I should wait until my cousin was there, that she should see me be baptized. I said no, I can't. What if this is the last chance I have? And that was that.

Everyone came back inside. And right then and there I gave my life to Christ. It's a funny thing, Christianity. I was eight. And I was certain of what I was doing. Certain that I would do anything for God, because he let his son die for me. That was all that mattered. It amazes me how badly I mess that up now. I think that I try to make it too complicated. As a matter of fact, I know I do. I think most people do. But I know one thing. For sure. God is there, ever the same. And I still love him. Even more.

Today, I had a hard day. It was hard because my kids were a handful in church. It was a bad day because my husband is ill, and grows increasingly more ill every day. And because he missed a very large part of the day, bc he was in bed. I was angry and hurt. I knew it wasn't his fault. I just didn't know what else to do with my frustration. So I cried. In his arms. I shouldn't have, because I knew it would just make him feel worse. I just didn't know where else to go.

It was a hard day because I let it be. But for all the wrong reasons. I was just now sitting here on my computer reading some blogs. Blogs that I follow on a daily basis. And my heart has been pierced. Today is Easter. Today is the day that Jesus overcame death. The day that he walked out of the grave. The day that forever changed the path of my life. Because he arose, I have a life. However hard my life is here, I have life there. In Heaven. With Him. And I didn't even think about that.

So now here I sit in my bed, next to my husband. He just fell asleep, and has to be up in 3.5 hours to go to work. Not that that matters. I sat here reading those blogs and I thought, I haven't even opened my Bible today. It is Easter and I didn't bother to read about why it matters. That's just me. Totally, flawfully human. I've heard it said that people don't turn to God a lot of the time until there is a tragedy. A crisis. I can't even do that. My life is one big walking series of crises, and I forget to pray. I can't even focus long enough to remember that I'm praying half of the time. I didn't think to read about my savior's crucifixion on the day that he arose from the dead. What kind of Christian am I?

The human kind. I think. The one thing that stood out in my mind today is that I can't good deed my way into Heaven. There is no sinner greater than another. There is no amount of good or bad that I could do to get me in or keep me out of Heaven. What then, gets me there? Christ. The blood he shed on that cross. And my obedience. I believe. I confessed that Jesus is the Son of the Almighty Holy God. I repented of my sins. I continue to try to do that on a daily basis. I was baptized, immersed in the water, for the remission of my sins. And I love Him. I mess up. A lot. I forget I'm praying, I forget to pray altogether. I don't control my tongue. My Bible isn't nearly as used as it should be. I yell at my kids, I worry, I let darkness creep into my head. But I am His. And He will save me if I let Him.

I guess the hard part for me is letting Him. I don't want to forgive myself. I don't know how. How could He forgive me? After all of that? After I spent so much of my life lost horribly in sins I can't begin to describe. How? I don't know, honestly. I hurt. I hurt because I know in my head that He loves me. I know in my head and my heart that He loves me completely. To the uttermost. I am His. And I forget. To pray. To study. To worship wholeheartedly. I hurt because there are people out there in this world who change there entire lives to serve God. They literally risk there lives because of a man named Jesus that they just heard about, and I am a mediocre Christian, even though I've known Him my entire life. But I think because that breaks my heart, there is hope for me yet. There has to be. There has to be something better than this. There really does. I hope in my heart that Christ comes today. I have no proof or reason to believe that today is that day, as no one knows. But I am so ready to go HOME. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of failing. I'm tired of letting Him down over and over. I'm tired of being mediocre, and I'm not sure I know how to be anything other than just that. Mediocre. I'm terrified I'll never be a great Christian. I know I'm not now. But I praise God for His faithfulness. His love. His ever flowing grace. And the chance to continually try to do better. It is the hope of that love and grace that I make it through this darkness.

Before I began this post I read through Luke's account of the crucifixion. And my heart breaks. It's raw. For Him. For what I've done. I hurt on so many levels right now. I hurt because of my childhood, because of the things that were done to me. I hurt because of my decisions, and my reactions to that childhood. I hurt because of His hurt, because I sin continually, and He died so I wouldn't have to. As my 4 year old says 'We do things after Jesus, because He did them first. But He died on the cross so we wouldn't have to'. I couldn't put it better. He died on the cross so I wouldn't have to. And this Easter, I have never been more grateful for that.

And today, I really am