It seems like I get sick whenever God wants me to rest.
He knows how stubborn I am.
He knows that sometimes it takes literally losing my voice for me to stop talking and just listen. He knows that I need the illusion of strength knocked right out of me for me to realize how weak I was all along. He knows that sometimes I need to be reminded of how much I need Him.
I got sick this week and it came in the middle of a lot of theology homework and laminating Books of the Bible posters and youth group and a few interpersonal crises.
And it all felt like too much. So much good stuff but…too much of it.
I wanted to run 100 mph with every idea I had, tackle every assignment like my life depended on it, speak truth into everyone I met, oh and sleep and eat and do the dishes.
And the nagging feeling that crept up in my soul every time the dishes didn’t get done or I missed an opportunity to say something that someone needed to hear or I misspelled a Greek word on my quiz was this: I am not enough.
I am so woefully not-enough. I don’t have enough strength or wisdom or grace.
I don’t have the words to say to heal my brokenhearted friends. I don’t have the space in my brain to remember every flashcard or pneumonic device. I don’t have enough time to read all the books waiting on my shelf or call everyone I love and tell them just how much.
I am depleting my reserves every day and they keep running dry before I’m finished.
And this has been the word constantly impressed upon my heart: you are enough.
Listen to me: you are enough.
But also, listen to what I am not saying. I’m not saying: you are strong, you are capable, you are smart, you are kind, you are perfect!
Because you’re not. You are a weak and vulnerable little human, tripping over your own two feet in a world that was spoken into existence by a God you cannot begin to comprehend.
But this is still true: you are enough.
You are enough because unqualified, insufficient, and incompetent are enough for Him to use. In fact, it’s all He’s ever used.
This truth should not cause us to dwell on our own messes, it should make us marvel at His unimaginable ability to take mess and turn it into beauty.
Do that which is hardest for every Oh So Good Christian to do: give yourself grace. Not a license to slack off or be lazy or forget that your every breath is a chance to worship Him.
Give yourself grace because it’s what He already did. He saw your broken human self and was overcome with such compassion that He went to great and extraordinary lengths to redeem and restore you.
But we look at our sins and failures and think we cannot forgive ourselves. What arrogance there is in believing you can hold yourself to higher standards than the unchanging and holy God of the universe. What ridiculous pride and conceit must we have to believe that our morality is more refined than His.
Give yourself some grace to live as a this-side-of-heaven human.
Recognize that scrapped knees and dirty hands come with the territory.
And then offer to Him what is rightfully His: the meager little scraps of a messy life. Offer them wholeheartedly and with the knowledge that it is enough for Him to use.
Offer it to Him with the knowledge that He will provide the renewing and the restoration, that He will provide the tools and the knowledge, that He will provide for all the places you fall short. (Because, beloved, you still will fall short.)
Give yourself grace for the mistakes and failures and tell yourself this unbelievable truth until it becomes just plausible enough to act on it: you are enough.