By Sandra Bost
Hypothetically speaking, if someone were to mistake a bottle of moisturizing body wash for body lotion- and then proceed to apply it with the enthusiasm of a skincare influencer– they might just discover a budget-friendly alternative to a chemical peel. Now, I’m not saying this happened to me. Twice. But, let’s just say my skin was suspiciously smooth, and I briefly considered opening a spa called “Oops & Co.,” with the ads, of course, featuring, “Oops, I Did it Again.” Call it a tragic case of label illiteracy. Call it a simple mistake. Call it what you will, but it came with a surprisingly smooth life lesson that I thought was worth sharing.
When I told my husband that he had possibly married the absent-minded moisturizer, his first words were, “Bless your heart,” which is an expression that brought up immediate aversions we can discuss in a future article. His next words were, “Why didn’t you ask me to read the label for you?”
You see, this mishap was due to the fact that I have reached the age where readers are no longer a cute accessory to my outfit of the day. Neither is my arm the adequate length to hold written material in front of my squinty eyes to bring clarity. Without my glasses, I can read exactly diddly squat. So, when I told him that I just assumed the bottle was lotion because I was not wearing my spectacles to see for sure, he offered a logical solution with kindness. However, the crisis could have been avoided if I had just worn my glasses instead of depending on the blurry words I thought I could make out.
As I reflected on my double doozy, a life lesson came to mind– two words: self-reliance. I didn’t think to ask my husband to read the label for me because the blurred word “moisturizing” that I was able to make out through squinted eyes was close enough to moisturizing lotion for me. It wasn’t pride– necessarily. It was more like a misplaced belief that I knew what was going on and had everything under control.
As it turns out, that’s a pretty common practice among Christians. We rush ahead, confident in our understanding of something, only to realize later that we have surmised the circumstance incorrectly, or misread the situation (or label), entirely.
In a sermon this past Sunday about spiritual maturity, one of the points the pastor made was about the necessity of absolute and total dependance on God. He said that Christians live like Atheists when they depend more on themselves than they rely on the Lord (A. McClellan). That is quite an indictment, but it rings true.
A familiar scripture about this very thing is found in Proverbs 3:5-6. I like the way the Message paraphrases it. It says, “Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don’t try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he’s the one who will keep you on track.”
The final point from Sunday’s sermon has stayed with me: God is all-loving, all-knowing, and all-powerful. That’s why trusting Him should be simple. If we believe that He loves us deeply and only wants what is best for us, knows what is best, and is the only one powerful enough to bring it about, we can rest in His guidance.
Which brings me back to my body wash catastrophe. I thought I had it under control. I thought I could rely on my own understanding (and squinting skills). But, what I really needed was clarity and some help. That small mistake reminded me that when I lean on my own understanding, especially without the tools that bring clarity, like glasses for reading and scripture and prayer for life, then I end up with unexpected consequences.
In the same way, when I trust God, I don’t have to guess. I don’t have to face life with squinty eyes. I can walk forward on a straight path made by a God who sees clearly and longs for me to trust Him more.
May we lean into God’s wisdom this week, acknowledge where we see Him working, and trust Him for what we can not see.
Disclaimer: No actual dermatologists were consulted in the making of this skincare shortcut. Results may vary. Side effects may include confusion, peeling skin, and an irrational fear of shower products. Proceed with caution– and maybe a pair of reading glasses.
