I’m not really a unique person.
I’m not cool.
I don’t dress trendy.
I go to the grocery store and buy spinach and eggs and avocados and mangos (I’m always buying those).
I come home and my kitchen floor needs sweeping so I do that. Sometimes.
I’m a mediocre artist.
I could be a great teacher but sometimes I don’t try as hard as I should.
I can’t wear heels to save my life.
I have a hot mess of hair all the time.
I can be overbearing.
I have all the emotions all the time (it’s a mess).
I talk too much.
I’m inconsiderate to those who are suffering around me.
I get really depressed when I’m alone for more than a day or two.
I have to follow a training plan when I run or I’ll quit after 10 minutes.
There are many others who take better pictures than me.
Live their lives with much more zeal than I.
Are harder workers.
More talented photographers.
More diligent teachers.
Daily, constantly, moment-by-moment He delights in me. He gives me full rights to fellowship with Him. I am adopted into His family. I have immediate access to the throne of grace. I am holy and dearly loved. Christ is not ashamed to call me sister.
All of this didn’t come when I was at my Sunday morning-raising hands-knocking it out of the park-kicking quiet time-giving to the poor best.
It came in my laziness, my shame, my guilt, my rebellion, my condemnation, my pride, my selfishness. When I was still identified as those things.
As a sinner.
So now I can look at others that seem to have better lives and less sin and mess and more consistency and I don’t have to envy. I don’t have to wish I was them. I don’t have to wish I was cooler or more worthy of affection, love, or respect.
I am Christ’s, and that is enough.
Even when my hair looks like a beehive and my dishes need cleaning.
Even then. Always.