I stood on the edge of the porch, paintbrush in hand. As the white paint slathered onto the wood, covering all the imperfections, the parallel wasn’t lost on me. I knew I was standing in the middle of a do over. I had lived a dark season of failing God. He knew it and I knew it. The choice of returning to that dark place was before me. Was I willing to make the other choice this time, the choice of following Jesus and His way?
I knew I had to make the right choice this time. This was my do over. My mind went back to Peter. He had failed Jesus so blatantly, too. Even after years of intimacy with Him, Peter had made the choice, out of fear maybe, to protect himself.
Out of fear, I had attempted to protect myself, my way. It only left me covered in shame. I knew Peter would relate.
As I painted the porch, accomplishing the chore that tethered me to the house, the thought of those dark moments made my knees weak.
Peter’s redemption began to overshadow my thinking.
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