At a women’s prayer morning at church, all eyes were lowered, deep in contemplation. I snuck glimpses at the other women to see how they were praying.
I caught a glance of several women with beautiful hair, fashionable hair and hip boots. Then I looked at the arm of my shirt and noted that it was inside-out. Not an unusual occurrence for me, like the time I left my skirt tucked into my panty hose leaving the ladies room before speaking to an audience. My husband says I need a minder.
I feel inside-out most of the time – a little odd and a lot of quirky. As I get older, I care about it less and less.
I’m glad. The Lord has made us each unique. The longer I walk with Him, the more comfortable I am with my inside-outness.
It is only because of my deep confidence in his love for me and His unconditional acceptance of me that I can claim this. I am comfortable enough to let my inside be the outside you see because of the work He is doing in me.
Surely His work must be tedious. I have rebelled, fought, run away, hid, and taken every opportunuty to evade His work in me. Along the way I’ve been broken, scratched, scarred, muddied and sullied. My inside-outness is not always pretty.
Yet I rejoice because day-by-day I am being transformed. What was once important seems trivial. What was hidden is being revealed. What shows in the hard fought for peace of a life settled in Christ.
If my shirt is inside-out, give me grace. God is doing His work in me.
