Good morning…
“Every time I see this cross on my wrist, I am reminded we are not perfect people,” she wrote after yesterday’s post. “Even with our imperfect selves we strive to get it right, to shine through darkness, and to live behind the smiles with a generous spirit. My cross is not perfect and it reminds me to let go and strip myself of trying to be perfect for God. That’s not what God wants from us. Our efforts to impress are unrealistic and undeniably seen by the Lord. That’s why he says, “Don’t come to the altar until you know you are not perfect. Please give yourself to me just as you are.” I need this visual reminder to strip myself of all expectations of ‘perfect’. No perfection in me. No perfection in others.”
I just wrote her back in the middle of this night.
“I love this photo,” I replied. “What a great reminder rests on your wrist all the time. Processing life with God, imperfectly. Progressing daily with God, imperfectly. Proceeding imperfectly at a snail’s pace toward the voice gently whispering, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” Our real hope comes from returning and resting with God just as we are, once, twice and again, always.”
“I love the honesty of Isaiah 30:15 in the Message translation,” I continued. “Your salvation requires you to turn back to me and stop your silly efforts to save yourselves. Your strength will come from settling down in complete dependence upon me – the very thing you are unwilling to do.”
“Our relentless tendency to perfect, to perform, to people-please is exhausting,” I admitted. “As my friend Betty Skinner used to repeat regularly, ‘Sue, the Big I must die.’ Once, twice and again, always. Surrendering our silly selfish efforts is freeing. We begin to settle into complete dependence on God, more and more and more over time. This is an inner battle I know very well.”
Now I return to a quote and a prayer I experienced at our retreat with the imperfect women recovering from homelessness and addiction. “The joy we experience in moments of self-forgetting is our true nature,” says the quote by Eknath Easwaran. “If we stop dwelling on ourselves, if we’re not full of ourselves, God can fill us.” Effortlessly, the Spirit of God gently fills us.
Peacefully, I am drawn back to this prayer of Henri Nouwen.
Dear God,
Speak gently in my silence.
When the loud outer noises of my surroundings
and the loud inner noise of my fears
keep pulling me away from you,
help me to trust that you are still there
even when I am unable to hear you.
Give me ears to listen to your small, soft voice saying,
“Come to me, you who are overburdened,
and I will give you rest . . .
for I am gentle and humble of heart.”
Let that loving voice be my guide.
Amen
“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Surrendering our imperfect self again, this soft voice becomes our guide.
…Sue…
