Sorry I haven't written very much lately. I'm kind of tired of me. Tired of thinking my thoughts, tired of hearing myself talk, not interested in seeing myself write.
It's funny, because today I taught a couple hundred kids about confidence. And I don't have any right now.
I made 2 points: you can be confident because God made you, and He delights in you. Why doesn't that help me? I know God made me. I believe He delights in me. But I don't. I don't delight in me. I'm not very impressed with me at all.
Which isn't the same. God isn't "impressed" with me. He delights in me.
It's just hard to fathom. I'm so riddled with issues, past and present, so critical, so out of control, so overwhelmed and underequipped. How can He possibly delight in me. Heck, I don't know how He even tolerates me, let alone delights. I simply don't get it.
No wonder the children all had a blank look today. I don't get it myself.
The example I used with them was the way I feel about my children. I have an unfathomable love for each of my 12 humans. And I have the blessing of parents who, though critical of me, delight in me as well. I know what it feels like to have my parent's love.
But I have trouble connecting the dots.
God made me and loves me, yes, but then I sin, and I lack most of the fruits of the Spirit, and I talk too much, . . . and I know Jesus' blood covers my sin, but wouldn't that make God even more irritated with me - like He's saying, "My Son gave His life, for this?!" Like God has paid the ransom for my sin, and I'm pretty sure He has buyer's remorse.
Sometimes, even though I am sure all of my children are a treasure and a gift from the Lord, I'm pretty convinced that they, or really I am the bane of everyone's existence, that any hospitality anyone shows us is motivated out of pity, that no one actually enjoys being with us/me.
He delights in me. Seriously? Honestly? I can barely stand to look in the mirror. Getting dressed causes emotional trauma. He delights in me? This is beyond my quite vivid imagination. I cannot comprehend that the perfect can possibly delight in me, the epitome of imperfection.
God made me and He delights in me. I'm going to have to just concede on this, and try to meditate on it for eternity. Maybe someday when I'm 70 I will begin to comprehend something of the love of God. I pray that I'll get a glimpse.
Because obviously, I'm not going to be much good at communicating God's love to people who don't know it if I don't grasp it myself.
But I don't. Not really. Not today. Not right now.
2 comments:
Really?! You don't see how He delights in your amazing wit, your practical nature, your love for the lives He creates, your flexibility, your creativity, your passion, your voice, ....?
I do.
But, I get where you're coming from. I'm often there, myself. Hugs!
I get it. I'm totally there. My breakdown the other day was "Did God really say [insert person direction here]?" And something about, "And anyway, why would God want to speak to me anyway? I don't [fill in some spiritual discipline or good deed] enough!" And the conversation ended with a quote from facebook and the Psalms, "Because He delights in me." What gumption, right?
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