It was the first thought I had this morning, before I'd opened my eyes.
"You need to tear back that sock."
My heart sank.
The sock is one I've had on the needles for months and months.
There is nothing wrong with the sock.
It was beautifully knitted, and I was nearly to the toe.
It is a second sock, which means the first one has been finished
and waiting for its mate for some time.
The problem is this: I knitted the first with a good plan.
These socks would have reinforced heels and toes.
These socks are for me.
The yarn is wonderful: I love it.
The first one was finished easily, and it is perfect.
I was eager to begin the second sock, so I could wear them.
I knitted away busily during piano lessons,
which is a wonderful way to make efficient (and pleasurable) use of my time.
I knitted so busily I neglected to put the reinforcement yarn into the heel,
and I didn't notice until I was well on my way to the toe.
I held the two socks in my hands, and felt the heels, and thought, "NO!"
The heels were different.
One is nice and cushy (and far more durable), and the other is nice and thin.
I laid the sock aside.
Periodically I pulled it out and looked at it sadly.
I considered attempting duplicate stitch darning on it
to simulate the same effect,
but I knew in my heart it wasn't going to be a solution for me.
So I ignored it.
"I'm not changing ANYTHING!" my heart said, stiffening its neck.
And we just didn't talk about it or think about it anymore.
Sometimes I missed knitting on it,
and the hope of owning the socks I had been working on with such anticipation.
But why should I lose all that work?
The work was flawless.
It was the other sock that had a problem with it.
And it was this sock I sensed the Lord telling me to rip back this morning,
before I was even awake to defend it,
and weeks after I had even thought about it.
I opened my eyes knowing I had a task to accomplish today.
A painful task, but a necessary one.
Something I didn't want to do.
I had actually wondered to myself if I had enough of this yarn on hand
to knit two more, just to avoid doing what I knew I needed to do.
But I had an order.
So, while I sat in my daughter's piano lesson,
I frogged my perfect knitting in order to conform it to its mate.
It took me the full half hour to do it,
and to get it put neatly back on the needles,
carefully checking each stitch for twists, and correcting them.
Hours of knitting lost as I pulled back each row of two thirds of my sock.
And my mind has been working on it all day:
On the necessity of our conformity to Christ, our True Mate.
On the pruning back of what does not fit Him.
There are many things in each one of us
that do not conform to His heart, His attitude, or His actions,
and He will not leave them alone in us.
He's not going to settle for a slapdash fix.
He will undo us to set us right.
And all those hours of perfecting ourselves
will have to be undone in order to make us truly His handiwork.
Give Him free reign to do it.
The sooner you stop fighting Him,
the sooner you'll be fit for His use again.
"For whom He foreknew,
He also predestined
to be conformed to the image of His Son,
that He might be the firstborn among many brethren."
(Romans 8:29)
"For our citizenship is in heaven,
from which we also eagerly wait for the Savior,
the Lord Jesus Christ,
who will transform our lowly body
that it may be conformed to His glorious body,
according to the working by which
He is able even to subdue all things to Himself."
(Philippians 3:20,21)
"Beloved, now we are children of God;
and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be,
but we know that when He is revealed,
we shall be like Him,
for we shall see Him as He is.
And everyone who has this hope in Him
purifies himself, just as He is pure."
(1 John 3:2,3)
And so I ask you:
is there anything He is asking you to rip back
that it might be made to conform to His purpose?
Tearing Back
