I wrote an article for Woman Alive’s September issue, based on the framework of a car’s MOT criteria, suggesting spiritual parallels as a starting point for a regular, perhaps annual, discipline to assess one’s journey with God.
On my walk with Dusty this morning, I decided to take one topic each morning and check out my own spiritual health. So this morning I prayerfully considered ‘the body and vehicle structure’: is it free from excessive corrosion, and without sharp edges which could cause injury?
The questions I suggest to address are:
Where has sin stuck, like salt from a gritted road, and is corroding me?
Am I drinking or eating too much? Addicted to smoking, drugs or porn?
Has my tongue acquired a sharpness that cuts others? (James 3:6)
Am I content to be my age – or obsessed with disguising it, overly concerned about my appearance?
I have repented of a sharp tongue and continue to repent every time it lashes out again, and I hope that with God’s help one day it will have lost its cutting edge. There are no doubt lots of other issues to answer in relation to the questions posed above, but God challenged me this morning concerning my closet.
I have a small closet which is stuffed with clothes, many of which I’ve had for decades and never wear but imagine that one day I might. I have an abundance of blouses and shirts, many given to me by friends or relatives and in a sense, precious because of that. I have skirts that I rarely wear, and sweaters which I think would be good for gardening. But I can only wear one sweater at a time in the garden (or two in this climate!) and anyway, I usually wear my fleece. Of which I have two.
I’m reminded of Jesus’ words to his disciples concerning cloaks. If someone asks you for yours, give him your tunic as well, he taught.
It seems a waste to get rid of something which I’ve bought before it’s worn out. Growing up, we wore our clothes until we either grew out of them or wore them out. I had one red plaid skirt my mother bought me when I was eight, which I was still wearing at eighteen. She always bought for us to grow into, though more often, we made our clothes and wore them til we grew out of them.
It seems unwise to discard something that still has years of wear. But it is terrible to have clothes in my wardrobe that I may never wear again, while others go naked. (‘I needed clothes and you did not clothe me’ Mt 25:43) Do I want to have to answer that charge one day?
I think I shall have to be ruthless in my closet and make a trip to one of the charity shops, this week.
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