Good, Better, Best


I want to be better. A better mom. A better wife. A better friend.

The insatiable desire doesn’t end with me.

I want my kids to be better. My husband to be better. My cleaning routine and devotional life to be better.

Better is code for perfect

The quest for perfection leaves me abandoned, feeling exposed to the fear that I am being judged while I simultaneously struggle to put down my own gavel for good.

Perfection stifles and suffocates Grace and leaves it for dead. I can’t receive it and it’s hard to give it.

But Grace will not, can not die. It is the stuff Christianity is made of (or at least it should be).

My imperfections (and yours) can be the beautiful scars from a healing heart. Stories of redemption, yet to be told. Victories yet to be won. Earthen jars, cracked, marred, maybe even broken, but in the potter’s hand nonetheless.

So don’t shy away. Don’t shrink back in disgust or fear. Take a good look at your imperfect life and then take a good, deep breath. Breathe in grace. Let it pour over you, washing away the shame. Let it fill the empty places to overflow. Then, stand next to someone else scrutinizing their own imperfections. And share that Grace.

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