THE MAN I GREW TO HATE

As someone who is used to having it all figured out and all put together, my psyche has taken a turn for the interesting, though challenging lately. My usual unquestioning mind is struggling with the things I know of God and the way in which they do or do not appear to be playing out in my life. This has turned into a full throttle wrestling match with Him and something about it has opened a new form of honesty in me and though I don’t understand it all yet, it feels beautiful and refreshing. 

He's allowing for me to push and in return, He’s pushing back. It's lit a fire under my, lukewarmness and birthed a new hunger in my soul to experience Him. God's voice is on a screaming volume when I've only ever heard a whisper. He's demanding my attention and I've acquiesced, with ears wide open and heart flexible and pliable.

For as long as I can recall, I've managed an intimate and serious relationship with morality. He's abusive in all ways -emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually, too. While he has been affectionately embraced by teachers, relatives, and peers, it had a much worse sister in the classroom and on the road. Timidity was worse through the project way she manifests her hunky self as humility. In fact, morality and timidity grew into an all-consuming man who managed a chokehold around every single part of my life.

Though she started in school, timidity managed to escape academia and attack life in general. Timidity pointed out my inflexibility, my lack of boldness, my love handles, my size 10 plus-sized body, my ever-pimpled face... He then took a turn on my writing, my singing and finally, my human relationships. Never the good enough, loyal enough, devoted enough friend, I deemed myself unworthy.

My heart burns with desire to be the perfect daughter, true friend, loving sister, supportive wife, proactive employee, courageous teammate... The list could go for miles. Not only do I wish boldness in the present, but I've gone retroactive on myself -spending hours running through memories past and hating many words, actions, thoughts, and motives.

After exhausting myself, I got a wakeup call. (Gasp, can you believe it?). I am allowed to be imperfect because of He is perfect. In His perfection, there is grace in which I can rest and appreciate. He hasn’t given me a spirit of fear.

Over the last year, He has grasped my broken self and pointed out how each of the little pieces -though fractured- are glorifying to Him because in my weakness He is strong. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

We are broken, flawed and imperfect. He is perfect, proficient and restorative. Though the list of wrongdoings may resonate hauntingly in our minds, we’re the only ones beating ourselves up for the said ill moments. We, the wrongdoers, are the only one stewing, hurting, hating our wrongs. Yet, the God who has every reason to condemn us as a result of our lies, deceit, jealousy, gossip, hate and anger won't.

But why God? Why so much mercy and grace? Because our sin, mistakes, and shortcomings are between us and Christ. Like when an adulterous woman is brought before Christ to be stoned, he says:

"If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her." (John 8:7)

Christ, the only man free of the bondage of sin, can throw the first stone. His perfection not only allows for condemnation, but, more importantly, provides for complete forgiveness. He provides mercy where we deserve condemnation, pain, and sadness. We need to forgive ourselves for our lengthy list of transgressions.

We can hardly forgive my imperfections, we need love and He's got that for me.

Inherent in imperfection is doing things the wrong way, slipping up, getting a scuff when we fall. But, those imperfections need to make us better, not make us hate who we are. It's time to let go, love you and bloom.