The Mess

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Life is so much bliss and so much struggle. It’s struggle and bliss wrapped into one beautiful package that you just keep unwrapping. It’s one of those presents that’s wrapped box in a box in a box…  I’m finding new things everyday and slowly becoming unraveled as I figure out what it looks like to be in the center of the world’s most alive, vibrant, adoring heart and still struggle.

Because the struggle is real. I think we’re afraid to look at it for too long because we fear the eye contact will initiate a long-term friendship. When we ignore struggle, when we sweep him under the rug he’ll burrow into the basement and break up the foundation. In reality in struggle there’s a beauty we can’t find in peace. There’s a beauty all it’s own that’s a bit wrecking and undefinable.

There’s beauty in not knowing where you’re going or how anything you want to happen will actually come to happen. There’s beauty in being beautifully, completely not in control. There’s a friendship with God here that is so precious that it almost hurts to bring it into the light. It’s like a healing scar that you have to cover up from the sunlight for a while.

That’s what life feels like right now. I’m ending my final year at ministry school and could’ve termed the beginning of the year “Band-aids don’t fix bullet-holes.” Now at the end, where my heart has experienced so much more than I ever thought possible, I’m wide open on the surgeon’s table.

It’s the goodness of God to come and clean out the bullet-holes that I had band-aided, and his goodness to continue to. It’s his unfathomable kindness in my vulnerability to literally love pain out of my system. His love has washed out pain and bitterness and replaced them with himself. He’s got eyes like fire and he’s not afraid of mess. That’s my God.

Mess is life and life is messy.I have lived so long afraid of coming out of a room with red eyes and mascara down my cheeks. I waited until I got my coloring back, dabbed, wiped, and hid. Hiding has all but killed me. Mess is glory and growth. Mess in front of those you love is ultimate liberation.

The world has actually never needed you to be perfect. I broke my back trying to carry the world’s incompleteness and pain. I thought I had to fix the world, and in order to fix the world I thought I had to be enough. I thought I had to be WHOLE PERFECT BEAUTIFUL and then I could be effective and valuable. Then that might possibly be enough for the whole world to get a little bit more okay.

False responsibility is a killer. We’ve actually never been responsible to carry the weight of the world. There’s one bigger who’s good at it. It’s not our responsibility to save anyone, make anyone do anything. Control is an illusion that needs to go. I have found you being a brave, imperfect, messy glorious human being is the only way to like life and influence. I want nothing from someone who’s perfect. I want nothing from someone who can’t teach me to get back  up when I’ve fallen. I crave answers that are only found in struggle, mine or yours. That’s the human condition.

I used to think life with God meant you were invincible, untouchable. To a degree I think parts of that can still be true. But life happens, life blows up and teaches you how to be messy. What if we embraced the fact that we don’t have to be perfect, don’t have to have it together, what if we learned gentleness towards ourselves and from time to time let ourselves limp?

Leaning, limping, and living: the things that I’m processing. I don’t know the answers but I know that life can be embraced with an authenticity and honesty that unhinges the idea that you’re not enough. In weakness and strength, in imperfection and grace, you were born enough.

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