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I asked God to take away the angry reactions, the shyness, and the perfectionism. He did not instantly wipe these away, but instead, He allowed me to be imperfect as a way to draw me closer to Him through His mercy and compassion.
The “untruths” had no chance against the power of my identity as God’s beloved and His presence within community.
I held so tightly to a specific vision of love that I didn't even trust God to help me identify it, to help me wait for it, to remind me that it surrounded me.
Although I entered into this world as a receiver, I have found myself uncomfortable with receiving than giving.
I realized that perhaps this was God's invitation for me all along as I reflect on my life unraveled in front of Him.
I can never escape Your love.
God was suffering with me in the darkness. He was the gentle reminders of love, the light that guided me through.
Gratitude sustained me, and it is what remains.
I felt God intimating, "My love for you is so much stronger than what you perceive as your faults and failings."
Pain is like a drug though. When you use it too long, it poisons a person, and so it happened to me.
Ingratitude is my inability to see God’s magnanimity.
Rather than running from our failings, Mary embraces each of us with the tenderness of a parent comforting a sick child.
Nothing in God’s world is a mistake.
In stillness, I sense God's call for me to count my blessings.
I felt God reminding me I had a choice, even in the fragile state that I was in.
It was a moment where he gazed past the supposed nothingness and instead saw abundance.
God felt far away, as I believed in order to be loved by him I had to be perfect.
God was using those around me as instruments of his love for me. I just had to let myself be loved.
I arrogantly thought that because I had transformed, the world around me did as well.
The effort of moving towards the light has been a struggle lately in my journey towards forgiveness and healing.
And yet, despite the gratitude I have experienced with each new or deepened grace, I have felt anunderlying restlessness within me—an ache to be “further along” in life or to have finally“arrived.”
As I pray for a deeper connection with God, I find His response to my desire oddly intertwined with a deeper connection to my “wounded” self.
God is showing me how to live with less of me. Honestly, though, it doesn’t always feel like there is more of God.
The pain of grief shows us the depth of our love for what we’ve lost. If it can teach us about love, surely it can teach us about God.
God was inviting me to serve Him in a way that I had never been called to serve before.
I often heard the phrase, “This is God’s will.” At times it brought comfort. But mostly, it brought me pain.
Perhaps from an early age, I learned that my parents felt good when I did things to make them proud, and it became a part of my identity.
After years of hiding some aspects of my life, “God I’ll follow you, but only this far,” God finally had me.
“Give my life away?!” I mused skeptically. I certainly don’t have my life in enough order to start giving it away.
It became instinctual to run away from uncomfortable situations even when the pain was unavoidable, unbearable, and not validated.