My long skirt dragged in the mud as I slipped and on the steep slope leading to the village church. I hadn’t considered the treacherous effects of rainy season when I pulled this dress from my closet; I just wanted to fit in with the Quechua ladies who always wear skirts. But their colorful wool “polleras” were much shorter than my dress, so I was the only one with a muddy hem as I slid onto the hard wooden bench in the back row next to my husband.

Sigh….

“At least I’m wearing my longest, most glittery earrings,” I thought, knowing that women in this culture prize sparkling earrings that dangle in front of their thick black braids. But as I peered through the crowd in front of me I noticed something odd; only men sat on this side of the building. I had forgotten that segregation was common in village churches. After I tiptoed over to the women’s side, I discovered my next major faux pas; this denomination taught their women to remove all glittery jewelry once they became Christians.

So there I sat, red-faced and embarrassed in my muddy skirt and long earrings, feeling like I had completely struck out as I tried to fit in.

But an amazing thing happened as the congregation filed out of the church at the end of the service…

The pastor and church leaders greeted my husband and me as honored guests, and the Quechua women lined up to press my smooth hand between their own rough, work-worn palms. They accepted me completely in spite of my cultural blunders.

Isn’t this a wonderful picture of what God does for us when we stumble into his presence, muddy and bedraggled from falling into the same old sin pit yet again? It’s an example of how our Father looks with love into our eyes, instead of staring judgmentally at our dangling earrings when we’ve tried a bit too hard to please him through the glitter of “good works.”

How can I respond in any other way than to glorify God for his great mercy?