About a month and a half left and I’m looking for flights to get me home tomorrow.
I wouldn’t consider it a low because of the freedom coming from it but last week I was going through a rough time. I so badly wanted to come home and deal with all my emotions in a place where I was safe, with people that I could trust.
I wanted to be able to come home, collapse at my front door and cry… and honestly I didn’t even know why. A deep sadness had entered my heart.
If I went home I would be able to process through this sadness with my family, my best friend and my church, all of whom know me very well. I knew they would love me through it and even if they didn’t understand what I was feeling, they are people who would just be with me. They were safe.
Even though I have trusted teams and my squad before, we are all imperfect people and that trust had been lost somewhere in the shuffle of things. That’s a whole other topic but thankfully the Lord is teaching me to let my walls down. To let others in.
I began a process of deep grieving and I wasn’t even sure why. My inner critic was screaming at me to pull it together, to swallow the sadness and keep my chin up.
You really think God is satisfied with this kind of service? You aren’t doing anything.
You’re just a privileged American girl… what makes you think you can help these people?
Do all things with a happy heart… how dare you be sad… you think God wants sad missionaries?
People literally have paid for you to be here, look around. You should be grateful. You should be happy.
What’s wrong with you?
What is wrong with me?
It took a lot for me to realize there was nothing wrong with being sad or letting myself feel. What was wrong was that I was trying to be perfect… trying to suppress feelings because a voice in my head was scolding me for not being happy enough, not being present enough, not being smart enough, not being helpful enough… a voice of harsh criticism telling me on repeat that I was not enough. I would never be enough.
In retaliation, I put it upon myself to prove that I was enough. That I was worth it.
And so began my quest for perfection.
Well, duh I can’t be perfect. You would think that’s common knowledge but I tried anyways.
It started out of a good place. I wanted to give God all of me. I wanted to fix every area of my life so that I could better reflect Him, so that my worship would be beautiful, so that every particle in my body would be glorifying to Him. A sudden weight began to press down on my shoulders.
What I didn’t realize in doing this little perfection act was that I was taking away the gift of the cross, the gift of God’s own son and saying,
“No, God. No need to send your son. Watch, I’ll get rid of all my sin. I can do it! Just wait. I’ll clean up my act and I’ll be so beautiful. You just wait, I’m going to make you so proud! You’ll know sending Jesus was worth it if just for me.”
God’s all, “Woahhhhh Katy. Child. Slow down. Slow down. Katy. Katy!”
At this point I’m walking away and He gently reaches for my hand.
“I already think you’re beautiful. Just as you are.”
I pull my hand out of his grasp and inform Him, the Creator of the universe, that I’d rather prove Him wrong (funny how we do that, huh?).
“Right, God. Yes I know… but I can be even better just watch! It’ll make everything even more worth it.”
OH MY WORD. WHY DO WE DO THIS TO OURSELVES?
Last month I made a note on my phone of all the beliefs I was unsure of, of all the issues I had and how I could seek out ways to fix them or find the truth. Just racking my brain for any possible way I could prove to God that I was worth saving.
Funny thing is, I found out that I really am not that great of a person. I am prideful, and it’s hard for me to ask for help. I pretend a lot, like, “oh hey! Ya, I’m Katy and I’m happy all the time!” And then the next day I sit in the back corner of a restaurant and cry. I hate the things I do and the things I want to do, I usually don’t do for fear of man. And the worst one of them all, I’m a sad missionary.
Needless to say, my quest for perfection didn’t end all that well. I was quickly overwhelmed by all the areas of my life that needed improving but I wanted more than anything to show God I could do it. I wanted Him to be proud of who I was… and what I saw myself as was no one to be proud of.
So I pushed myself harder, and harder, and harder. The weight of my past sins, my present sins and the goal of being perfect was pressing deep into my shoulders.
I couldn’t do it. I could not bear this load. The Lord began to reveal to me that it was never mine to carry in the first place.
But I knew it wasn’t mine to bear. I knew about the gift of the cross, I knew I had been forgiven for my imperfection, for my sin. So what the heck was wrong with me?
Well, I am still coming to terms with the answer to that question. The truth is, I was trying to understand how someone perfect, holy and righteous could ever love someone who by nature is so opposite. How did I get so lucky to be loved… to be delighted in by the Creator of the universe? How is it that God loves us, just as we are?
We are a new covenant people. We live under the grace and mercy given to us freely through the sacrifice of God’s own son, Jesus Christ. What a beautiful name it is. In His name there are whispers of freedom. There are broken shackles from grace. There are promises of mercy. In that name there is life and there is love.
Jesus Christ is the answer to my quest for perfection. He has made it so that I don’t have to seek perfection, I only have to seek His face.
I still don’t, nor do I think I ever will, fully understand the love of our Father. But I can say in confidence that His grace is sufficient for me. In my sin, His grace is sufficient for me. In my brokenness, His grace is sufficient for me. In my imperfections, His grace is sufficient for me. I have nothing to prove and I have nothing to offer and still, His grace is sufficient for me.
I am so imperfect and it is amazing that God loves me, but He does. He delights in me, just as I am. It blows my mind, It really does.
“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then I am content with weakness, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
-2 Corinthians 12: 9 & 10
So screw you devil because I already know I’m weak, that’s old news. In fact, I am so much more than weak. I am tired. I am worn out. I miss my family. I lost my dog. I was robbed. I’m mourning ten countries with people I may never see again. I lost a loved one. I might just be losing my mind but I know that in my weakness I am made strong. Under His grace I can be loved.
So joke’s on the devil for trying to taunt me with my weaknesses because they are just pointing me back to God’s grace and strength.
And once again, God has turned what was intended to be bad into good. Hallelujah. Amen.
