Imperfect

Sometimes I wonder if people forget that there’s more to me than who my dad supposedly is. I’m a Pastor’s Kid, therefore I never sin, I never talk about or think about anything other than Jesus, I know everything about the Bible, and I will condemn you for every little mistake. Yep. That’s me in a nutshell, people. You hit the nail on the head. (Can you hear the sarcasm?)

I sin multiple times everyday, I often forget to read my Bible and pray, I have so many questions about the Bible, and I do my best not to condemn people. I am a broken and bruised, shattered and glued, torn and ill-used person just like everyone else on this dumpster fire of a planet. I have the saving power of Christ living in me and it is not because I am a Pastor’s Kid. It’s because my parents loved me enough to tell me about the Son of Man who had saved and healed them and because I choose to believe in him every day of my life. It doesn’t mean I’m perfect, it doesn’t mean I’m always right, it doesn’t mean I have even a part of my life together. But it does mean that I have a friend who will never leave me, a father who will always give me what’s best for me, and a constant support that I can lean on or cry into as needed.

Three ways I am not perfect:

1. I always want more. More books, more time, more sleep, more subscribers, more friends.

2. I do what I know is wrong. I read things that support anti-Biblical views, knowing that God doesn’t want me to read those kinds of things. I do or say things that I wish I could take back. I think thoughts about people that are mean, prideful, and sometimes cruel.

3. I try to do it myself. I don’t need to ask for help, I’ll figure it out eventually. I don’t care if you tell me I’m doing it wrong, I’ll figure out on my own.

Three ways Jesus is helping me:

1. He is teaching me to be content. To stay in the present and focus on the people around me.

2. He is teaching me self-control. He is guiding me to Him and His Word with a sense of conviction, with my guilt and His forgiveness.

3. He is teaching me that I cannot, in any way, shape, or form, do it on my own. I need His help to survive and I need other people’s help because in life, my way is almost never the right way.

It’s taking time. A long, exhausting, painful time. But I’m inching my way there. And I am running my race, I am bearing my torch, I am spreading the Good News. Slowly, so slowly, but surely.

Whether I live to be a hundred or die tomorrow, whether my Substack grows to a thousand subscribers or I stay at fifty, whether I feel like I’ve got it together or am crying on my bed ‘cause I’m a mess, He’s got it.