Pride Welcomes In Grace

No one is expected to be perfect. No one. Not here. Not on our own, this side of Heaven.

When we learn something, and we are asked not to make the same mistake twice, we are expecting perfection. In ourselves and in others.

It isn’t fair.

I think it makes our Father weep when we’re unfair to ourselves and each other, because we’re missing the point of Grace.  The point is to try, yes. But, there’s only so much we are capable of on our own.  

He is the Super Hero in His Story. 

Not me.

What that tells me is huge. A fallacy exposed:

I – AM – NOT – EXPECTED – TO – LIVE – PERFECTLY!

My chest actually hurts at the realization of this ugly Pride. 

And in enters Grace. 

Grace parts the curtains, opens the sash and lets the brilliance of the day warm my wounded heart. 

Grace hovers over me and kisses me and tells me my name - Beloved, a person who is greatly loved. 

Grace tells me that I am special. I am unique. I am valued. I am important to His Story.

Yeah. Sure. Of course.

I puff my chest out and gallantly pronounce that I know. I shrug away the softness of Grace like my son does quite often when I tell him the very same thing. I say I believe it.  But I don’t. I have no idea what this means and my mind is filled with the rushing tidal waves of Doubt. Uncertainty. Fear.

I have always had high expectations of myself. Everyone who knows me would agree. I’ve always thought that if you can imagine it, it’s possible. And I have always thought that no one can ever give 100%, so when we say we gave it our best we are lying. To ourselves. And to everyone around us. 

We can always give more and do better.

But…

We aren’t expected to. 

Just because we can, doesn’t mean we should.  

Our gentle Father is the (only) One who fully accepts us just the way we are. He holds our heart in His Hands. He caresses our face and tells us we’re beautiful right now.

Our loving Father reminds us ever so gently and lovingly that we are not any better than anyone else.  

And no one is any better than us. No one.

Every one struggles. Every one hurts. Every one makes mistakes. Every one falls short of what we want for ourselves and what everyone else wants for us.

So, while we’re busy trying to be better than the day before and we’re trying to be the best we can be, we are missing the point.

Like any good parent would do, sometimes He waits until we’re ready to listen.

He loves us so much, though, that He can’t just sit back. He can’t just wait. 

So, He tip-toes near our rooms – the rooms we’ve created for ourselves to keep us comfortable. 

He knocks and sometimes I pay attention to His knock and speak a sweet “come in.” And other times I pretend to ignore Him. Because I just don’t understand Him. And I can’t trust that it’s really as easy as He says.

He asks me to surrender all the blankies that I’ve held onto for so long - the expectations I have of myself, my plans, my hurts, and most of all…my heart. 

And in that handing over...in that trusting...in that surrendering...

        I receive Grace.

And it feels

like Freedom.