Last week, I decided to jump in the car and head to Key West. 

The truth is, I had had a really hard weekend before. I was hurting. I was confused. And I couldn’t understand God’s purpose. 

Actually, I felt betrayed by my Father. Betrayed and hurt and lonely. 

And so I decided to escape for a little bit.

It wasn’t long after I got into the car that I realized this was His plan. I still couldn’t understand the whole thing. But I had a glimpse. 

The drive was long. But the conversations between the two of us were longer. 

Typically, in our relationship, I do most of the talking. I have a very hard time listening. I struggle in the quiet. I struggle just being in His presence, but when you’re stuck in the car for over 15 hours, you don’t have much of a choice. 

So, I listened.

I expected to be in trouble. I hadn’t been behaving the way I thought I should have been. I expected that He was angry with me. 

But He wasn’t. 

There was love in His voice. He acknowledged the mistakes I had made, but reassured me that it was okay. 

He reminded me that even though He sent His son to die for my sins, it was an ongoing act of love. I was never going to be sinless. But He died to pursue me. Always and forever. 

And so that’s what He did. On the car ride down. And every minute since I’ve been here. He has been pursuing me. 

I don’t know about you, but I can often seek the approval and the attention I so desperately need from everyone else, but Him. 

I can get caught up in the distraction of trying to be the best, the most put together. Maybe it’s because I’m the oldest child or maybe it’s something from my past marriage, I don’t know what it is, but my desire to be perfect is overwhelming. 

I strive to be the best I can at everything I do. I want people to look at me and notice that I have it all together. I want the clean house, the perfect job. I want the hours at the gym. I want to be the best single mom. I want my kids to be perfect. 

I want to be the perfect mess. 

Don’t let this fool you, I know I am not perfect. Not even close. But I strive to be. I exhaust myself to be. 

And it’s a race I know I’ll never win. 

And that was His reminder. I am never going to be perfect. Not according to the standards I’ve set for myself. 

The world’s standards. 

But that it’s okay, because I am perfect because He is perfect.

I am good. Because He is good.

I am enough. Because He is enough. 

I will always fall short according to the world’s standards. I will never have enough. I will never be enough. There will always be someone better. Or someone who is at least better at pretending to be better. But that’s not what this life is about. 

This life is about not wanting those things. It’s about wanting Him. 

So a week into this adventure and I’m ready to admit to you that I am not perfect. My house is not always clean. I yell. I get angry. I cry way more than I probably should. Sometimes I am the furthest example of Christ. Sometimes I find myself hating someone for no reason other than my own insecurities. And more often than not, it’s easier for me to point out your flaws than address my own. 

But those things are okay. And chances are you feel the same exact way most days. Because this world, despite it pretending like it understands the definition of ‘perfect’ is anything but. 

It’s broken. And so are we. But that’s okay because He isn’t. 

And we are made whole in Him. 

So today is the first day I stopped comparing myself. Today is the first day that I woke up and I didn’t care what anyone thought. Today is the first day that I looked in the mirror and was ready to love myself in spite of the many flaws that I could point out in that reflection. 

Because today was the day that I didn’t see myself first, but instead, I saw Him. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.