I kneel again, face to the floor, hands cupped upwards and open and I whisper "thank You... thank You..."
I've spent more time on my knees in prayer these past few days than I have in a long time.
My thoughts have been full of these things of God I long to speak into the confused, the distracted, the directionless, the self-loathing... and this is no small privilege. This is no small responsibility.
And if there is any cure for perfectionism? It's serving the Perfect One.
My desire to be perfect is because I want to please Him. I am told to be holy, set apart... but even my best acts righteousness are filthy rags compared to His perfection and in these times I remember clearly: I am not good enough. I don't have enough to give. I don't know all the answers.
I word-stumbled and I was awkward and I forgot some things entirely... but, but... He asked me to be willing, to be faithful, to obey, to speak. And I did.
He lovingly reminds me that this is success.
The wildest thing? I hear His applause. I feel His embrace.
This is more than worth all the uncomfortable. Worth more than publicly getting it all right.
And I'm not ashamed. Or afraid. Or weakened.
Because in my great and deep and wide and otherwise overwhelming weakness He shows Himself perfectly strong.
And I adore Him for it.
How Great Thou Art!
