Nice Guys Don't Always Finish Last But They Often Fall Down the Stairs

It was a dark and stormy morning...
Well, it wasn't really stormy, but it was dark. Emma and I were sneaking around the house as quietly as possible trying to get ready for school/work while everyone else in the house (little brother, inlaws, outlaws, etc.) slept in. In the course of our preparations, I noticed that the towels had really stacked up in the bathroom, so I grabbed them and made a pile in the hallway at the base of the steps. This way, I would remember to throw them in the washer when I got home that afternoon.
Just as we were about to successfully leave the house without making so much as a peep, I remembered a book I needed to bring with me. I deftly climbed the stairs to our bedroom, grabbed the book off my desk, and lightly descended the hardwood stairs all silently as I had yet to shoe myself.
Then...
One step from the bottom, I stepped on the corner of a towel which had made its way onto the step. Did I mention our steps are hardwood?
The towel slipped right off the step... and my foot went with it. Of course, where my foot goes, my leg goes and the rest of me follows. A late grasp for the handrail to steady myself was ineffective, largely because I missed the handrail. Having grabbed nothing but air, instead of steadying me, my outstretched arm crashed down to the stairs elbow first. It was followed by the back of my head which barely proceeded the landing of the rest of my body. At that point I gracefully? thumped down the two or three stairs between me and the first floor and ended up in a dazed heap at the bottom of the floor.
The pain and confusion I sensed at that moment was quickly erased by the joy of realizing that Emma, who had witnessed the entire thing, was standing in front of me with a look of horror and deep concern. All bad feelings melted away in the warmth of knowing that my firstborn daughter cared deeply for me and was worried about my welfare. She asked, "Are you okay?" Before I even had a chance to respond and remind her just how tough her dad was, she finished her question, "Are you going to be able to drive me to school?"
Sigh.
Of course, our hopes of escaping the house without anyone waking up were now dashed. One startled person yelled out, "Is everyone okay?" I mumbled something about "I dropped something" (which indeed I had) as we headed out the door.
But here's the story behind the story. I had great intentions that morning. I wanted to let everyone have some extra sleep time. I wanted to help out with the laundry. I wanted to get my daughter to school on time. I can honestly say, for the most part I was really focused on others that morning. I was really being a "good" guy. I really had the absolute best motivations for everything I did.
My elbow still hurts... a lot.
See, the best intentions in the world don't always translate into reality. Things happen, and often our intentions end up having ZERO effect on our actions. I intended to let everyone sleep in. No one got to, because I slipped up. I intended to put the towels in the wash for Marianne. I ended up not doing it. I intended to safely go down those stairs.
Our intentions often have very little to do with our reality.
That's why God doesn't judge us on our intentions. He judges us on the reality of our actions. All of us intend to do good. None of us do it. That's why Jesus had to come and do good for us. He is the only person ever whose life perfectly matched his intentions. But even He struggled with it. His intention from the moment He left the Father's side was to save us from our sins, but in the garden as the cross loomed, he wrestled with the heavy burden of reality that sat on the shoulders of his intentions. Unlike me, though, he came through.
Labels: i'm just sayin', Jesus, salvation, sin
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