I like broken. I like old. I especially like old and broken things like hearts because beauty happens in the repair process. Jesus came to heal the brokenhearted and bring hope to the hopeless, so if that's his mission...then that's mine too.
I grew up in church and did the best I could to be a good girl. Every time I messed up, I felt like God was mad at me...like I was more of a tolerance than a joy to him. I did everything I could to try and make him happy, but didn't feel quite good enough to have him love me. One day, things changed. I was in college and everything around me felt hopeless...I wanted to give up and asked God if I could die. But like a fairy-tale prince, Jesus never gives up on his bride. He showed me I was never just a tolerance in His kingdom...but a delight. And when I messed up, the perfect sacrifice of Jesus never ran out for me. His blood was...
and will always be enough.
Coming out of those dark seasons, I now know Jesus was holding my hand. I have to let his kids know He's holding their hands, too. His heart is for them. Our perception of God is perhaps the most important thought we will ever have. How we view God and how we think he views us will determine our joy, peace, and love. When the love of God hits your heart, the unconditional nonperformance-based and tender love of our Father becomes revelatory to you, you'll never be the same. We can point fingers and judge all day long, but if God's not counting record of wrongs, then neither should we with other people or ourselves. What this whole Gospel thing looks like is...love. Where no blood exists, no forgiveness exists. The price has been paid; we accept, and we are forever empowered by the fire of the Spirit of the Lord. My desire is to know His love deeper...and let the potency be so intense that lives are changed from the overflow.