Of the 400 Mistakes I Make a Day, Which Ones Really Matter?

Is anyone else feeling like they can’t do or say anything right these days, or is it just me? From navigating the suggested path through the grocery store, to being the only teacher, coach, and social-activity coordinator my kids can safely share air with—my stress level is off the charts! Every move feels awkward and unsteady. Am I doing this right? Am I reading that correctly? Is my post going to offend anyone? The uncertainty of these current days has left me feeling uncertain of myself. My self-esteem gauge is hovering just above empty and my inner cheerleader feels a lot farther away from me than six feet.

I fixate more on the wrong I do than right, more on my inadequacy than ability, more on my errors than excellence. I focus on my mistakes instead of reveling in my small victories! I know this is not the lens God wants me to use.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
2 Corinthians 12:9

Because of his grace, I am sufficient. We are sufficient. We are not designed to keep a tally of mistakes over ourselves or each other. We are not under this scorekeeping type of law. We are called to walk under the life-giving, worth-affirming grace that was poured out for us on the cross.

So how can we move forward using a better lens? Better output starts with better input. In order to make lasting changes, we need to make better habits. Habits that include reading the Bible every day, journaling, listening to worship music in the car, or even a midweek review of the weeks’ sermon. Whatever it takes! There is a tremendous amount of energy working against us. We cannot combat it without a tactical plan filled with repetitive affirmations of God’s love and grace. 

So, as I walk away from my laptop and go off to make mistake number 401 for the day, I’m going to reset and pray.

Father, I love you. I know you love me. All of me. My mistakes do not matter to you. My transgressions are just ways for you to show me that I need you. I cannot do this alone. I was not designed to live apart from you. I ask that as I go through my day, that you would be with me, guiding me, whispering to me, ‘It is well, child. I love you and I’m not counting.’