Loving Imperfectly

I know I should have come to You sooner. I remember when I was little and I was first learning to help out with household chores. Every time I had to empty the dishwasher, it seemed I would break a dish on accident. I remember hiding it from my mom because I didn't want her to be angry. She was always angrier that I didn't tell her sooner.

I feel like that now. A little kid, trying to pick up her mess before You have the chance to see it... pricking my fingers on the broken glass and hoping You don't notice the blood. But You always see my mess; You always notice the pain it causes me as I try to be self-sufficient and take care of it all myself. Why don't I ever call Your name when the dish first hits the floor?

I review the words I once wrote. With terrible grammar and the perspective of a child, I tried to find reasons for the pain I was going through, and I knew You had to be involved somehow. I tried to decipher if You were an enemy or a friend, and I wanted more than anything else just to trust You. But every time I started believing that You were hearing my prayers, another wave would take me off my feet and I would question all over again Your love for me.

I don't think I question Your love for me anymore. I think I question my ability to love You back. It's not that I don't want to love You, I just want to love You perfectly while I am still imperfect. And though my head seems to understand that it's not possible, my heart won't make since of it quite yet. I could never love You perfectly. Not in this lifetime anyway. And so I fail to love You at all because I'm too busy trying to find the formula for perfection.

I forget that You saved me in my imperfections, and You loved me in my brokenness. You helped me because I was helpless, and You gave me a purpose when everyone else saw only a lost cause. If You wanted someone perfect, You would have never chosen me. I need to trust that Your grace is sufficient for me. I am trying to believe that.

But right now I just see all my shortcomings and all the ways I don't measure up. I see all the ways I've let You down- or maybe I've just let myself down. I see my scars and I see my patterns, and I fear falling into another cyclical race against time. But this time, I know You are real and I know You love me.

But do I love You enough to give up everything and follow You? I want to love You more.

I think it's kind of ironic. I used to question Your love for me. Now I question my love for You. I wonder, do You ever question my love for You too?