By Sasha Katz

I ran across an anonymous quote – – We all have chapters we would rather keep unpublished.  I love this quote.  The more I think about this quote, the more I love this quote.  In fact, I was listening to the Wally Show  this morning and the contest was to judge who had the best mind blowing quote.  I am going to go with this one.

My assumption is that, most of you reading this, are ladies.  We girls have so many moments that we would be happy to claim unpublished.  The view my mom and husband got when I was pushing my first baby out. Must stay unpublished!  How about the time my ex-step grandma proceeded to pull out everything she could find between the cushions on my couch, including coins, stale chips, popcorn, popped balloon pieces and other moldy junk. She piled all the stuff she found in front of her on the coffee table – during a family party. How about on my 20th birthday when everyone was going around the table telling their very best story of me . . . and my nine year old brother told about the time I walked down the hall and “let it rip!” Really. Should have been unpublished.

Don’t judge my life to be easy or simple by these goofy better off unpublished bits. The real stuff that we don’t want published is the stuff wrapped about pain and shame. The stuff we do retakes of in our mind 100 times over. But the retake in your mind doesn’t take away the real thing that went down in your her-story.

I have to tell you there are not many people out there who have retraced their steps as many times as I have. I hate to think that there are many of you out there who have asked God to forgive them for the same thing over and over again for a full decade. I hope to think that it’s mostly me. But, at the ripe old age of 39, I have let it all go. God has let me remember each and every wretched, sinful thing I have ever done. Everything that I am ashamed of. That blasphemed His name. That soiled His spirit in my temple. That was hypocritical, selfish and self-serving. That deeply hurt others. Everything that made a mess of the real me He knows me to be.

In His grace, there was a purpose to all of my laundry lists. I had a cross over point some time ago. I realized that, if I would let Him, He was intending to wash my mind, spirit and soul of the part of the girl that had gone all wrong. Instead of folding my laundry and putting it back in my closet for me to wear again and again, He was separating it as far as the east is from the west. For as often as I could bring a sin to mind, He was there to send it off to the bottom of the sea. I don’t know how He does these mysterious, miraculous works in us, but He does.

I once read an author who pondered the hours Jesus spent hanging on the cross. The author proposed that the time He hung represented the time it took to forgive in advance each and every sin committed by humanity. In addition to the physical pain, imagine what it was like for Jesus to bear all of our sins. You and I know a little about that because sometimes we bear our sins on our own. We know how bad that hurts. I don’t think we can imagine what bearing all of earth’s sins feels like – – coupled with the physical pain. It sobers you. It tugs at the part of you that has the capacity to feel gratitude; it tugs at the part of you that has the capacity to be merciful to others. It tugs at everything about you that you wish went unpublished. Because you know He had to suffer to make you clean and new. To make the unpublished you, Published.


This post was inspired by Connie Inman’s pin of the quote herein. Thanks Connie!

Dirty Laundry

By AbbyA

Authenticity.  I am thinking about looking into someone’s eyes.  Rather simple.  We do it in conversation.  Over dinner.  The eyes are a window into the inner thoughts and soul of a person.

There are some eyes that have the gift of seeing the inside of you just by looking briefly into your own eyes.  You know this person, this gift, because even if you know them  – – surfacely – – even if they are an acquaintance – – when they look at you and you at them, you have to choose.

At that glancing moment, you can look away or look back.  If you look back, you have given them a window of opportunity.  They will see into your heartstrings.  The thoughts and feelings that you hold below the surface will be told to them through the language of the eyes.  But, if you look away, they will have known anyway that you have hidden within yourself your authenticity.

Your authenticity.  It is so easy to slant it.  Stuff it.  Perform it.  Deny it.  Look away and pretend that your heartstrings are playing to a happy song.  So easy to pretend that your inner thoughts are in complete harmony with your outer appearance.

Your authenticity.  It is your greatest mark of your individualism.  Your unique blueprint.  The greatest evidence of our Sovereign God.  And, we, in our great wisdom, decide to mask it, hide it, run from it.  Stuff it, slant it.  Deny it and perform it.

I know why.  We all know why.  There is a part of ourselves that is like a dryer.  It spins around – – sometimes you find a sock of shame.  Dirty underwear.  Embarrassing stains and soils.  Undergarments that make us feel self-conscious.  Rips and tears that show our age and maturity.  Tags that reveal both wealth and size.  We’ve all got our laundry spinning around in the dryer.

Authenticity.  It’s spinning.  No one knows, after the cycle, what will show up missing or later found.  No one really feels like hanging shirts or sorting socks.  No one likes wrinkles or pink-whites or crayon stains.  But we’ve all got it spinning in the dryer.

Authenticity.  You’ve got a Maker and a friend.  The Maker already knows your imperfections and your friend has some version of your own dirty laundry anyway.  Why not take a chance on the real you?  Why not take a chance with the one version of you that God felt so strongly about, so lovingly about, that He stamped you into time.  Authenticity, why not?