I am a broken mess. I am not perfect. Some days it is hard for me to put my best foot forward; to walk in humble confidence. My faults are many. There are days when my tongue lacks the grace required of me as a woman of faith. There are moments when my flesh rises so, that it takes an act of divine intervention to reign me back in.
I am a broken mess.
I am not perfect.
But God is faithful.
(Don’t you love the phrase “but God.” I like it so much I may have to write about it one day.)
He sees what humanity calls brokenness and calls it malleable clay in his hands. He sees what the church calls youth and calls it usable. He sees stubbornness and calls it passion. He sees a lack of grace and calls it room to grow.
I am a broken mess and a far cry from being perfect, but in the hands of the faithful Father I am beautifully broken and perfected in the humble sacrifice of the Son. I am a mess still, but I am his mess, and he can work with that.
Maybe today you don’t see the possibility of ever being used by God again. He does. Maybe today you don’t see the worth in yourself you have been reading about in his Word. He does.
His very word calls us to take on the mind of Christ (1 Cor. 2:16) and lay down our way of thinking (Rom. 12:2) that is so heavily influenced by this world. Believe his words about you. You are a beautifully broken mess, as am I.