“And Grace calls out, 'You are not just a disillusioned old man who may die soon, a middle-aged woman stuck in a job and desperately wanting to get out, a young person feeling the fire in the belly begin to grow cold. You may be insecure, inadequate, mistaken or potbellied. Death, panic, depression, and disillusionment may be near you. But you are not just that. You are accepted.' Never confuse your perception of yourself with the mystery that you really are accepted.” ― Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin GospelI am insecure. And inadequate. And after two kids (and not nearly enough exercise) I could very well be described as potbellied.
I am not just that.
Yes, I am a mess sometimes. And sometimes, often means when I'm awake.
I am short-tempered, and self-centered, and impatient, and selfish (and redundant!) I am a linty of the very worst things.
And maybe, if I was feeling generous with myself, I could list some great things I am too, but that would still be futile, because the good would never cancel out the bad- not in number, or magnitude. Because for all my wins, and strengths and I am still at my core: a ragamuffin. Unworthy of a perfect love. Unfit for the adoration of a King.
The very next line in my story...the words that follow all of the mess and muck and yuckity yuck of my imperfect heart?
I am accepted.
Not because I deserve it. But because my creator says I'm worth it.
So I'll never stop striving to be better. And I'll probably never be able to ignore my own flaws. But the beauty is that my forgiveness doesn't have to come from me. I don't have to find grace for myself, it's given to me freely, and abundantly, by a God who sees every piece of me and still (and forever) calls me His beloved.