Lynn H. Blackburn

Hyp-o-crite:
1. A person who puts on a false appearance of virtue or religion.
2. A person who acts in opposition to his or her stated beliefs or feelings.

I am a hypocrite.

I’ll give you a few examples.

• I’ve been known to shop at the health food store . . . and then run through a McDonald’s drive-thru—and not to order a salad.
• I’ve been known to set up a budget . . . and then ignore it for, um, well, a while.
• I’ve been known to snap at my husband . . . on the way into church . . . hmm . . . ok . . . that one just happened this week. Let’s move on.
• I’ve been known to yell at the pokey driver in front of me . . . on my way to Bible study.
• I have been known to blog about something . . . and then live my life in direct contradiction to what I’ve written.

It’s very frustrating.

And it’s been very obvious in my spirit in the past few weeks. You see, the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference is fast approaching and many of my writer friends are planning to go.

I feel left out.

Many of them have had great success in the past year. Agents have been obtained, articles have been published, books have won awards.

For others. Not for me.

I can’t seem to stop the feeling that hits the pit of my stomach each time a fellow writer passes a milestone I have yet to reach. Can’t shake the sense that I’ve been given a taste of something delicious and now have to watch others enjoy the feast.

My “good Christian girl” side knows that this is an issue of trust. She knows that God is sovereign. She knows that God’s timing is perfect and that His purposes and plans will prevail. She knows that whatever God wants for her is for her ultimate good and His ultimate glory. She has blogged about this very thing here and here.

You know what the “much more irreverent” side of me says to that?

Yeah, yeah, whatever.

I’ve been rather ticked off about the whole thing. I’ve fumed and fussed and thrown quite the spiritual temper tantrum.

God probably should’ve knocked a knot on my head for my behavior. I’m still not sure why He hasn’t. Maybe He’s cutting me some slack considering that I haven’t slept through the night in almost eight weeks. Maybe He recognizes that the current “shower of blessing” I’m under has come very close to drowning me and I’m just now keeping my head above water—most days.

Maybe Jesus sits at the right hand of the Father and quietly intercedes, “She’s mine. I died for her.”

I am a hypocrite.

But I’m a saved hypocrite. I’m a loved hypocrite.

I’m a forgiven hypocrite.

Psalm 32:1, 2 and 5 – Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man against whom the LORD counts no iniquity and in whose spirit there is no deceit…I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not cover my iniquity; I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the LORD,” and you forgave the iniquity of my sin. (ESV)