If life were a performance, I’d be the person in the middle of the stage trying to juggle flaming torches, balance on a unicycle, and sing the national anthem all at once. Spoiler: I drop the torches. Often.
For the longest time, I thought I had to get everything right for God to accept me. I’d convince myself that if I just tried harder, prayed more eloquently, or avoided losing my temper when someone cut me off in traffic, I’d finally deserve His love. But here’s the plot twist: God doesn’t ask us to have it all together. He asks us to come as we are, messy, flawed, and exhausted, and let His grace do the rest.
I think about Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 12:9: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Weakness. Not strength. Not perfection. Weakness. That hit me harder than my toddler's toys underfoot at 3 a.m.
“Hey, you’re such a calm presence. You always seem so patient.” people would say and I almost burst out laughing. If they only knew the mental gymnastics I perform just to make it through a single morning! But hey: God’s grace fills in the gaps where I fall short.
Grace isn’t a reward for being good. It’s a gift for being human.
It’s in the small moments, too. When I snap at someone and immediately feel guilty, grace whispers, “Try again.” When I forget to pray or read my Bible for the third day in a row, grace says, “I’m still here.” When I feel like I’ll never measure up to the version of myself I want to be, grace reminds me, “You don’t have to.”
Accepting grace doesn’t mean giving up on self-improvement. It means realizing that my worth isn’t tied to my performance. It’s about trusting that even when I fail, God’s love remains constant.
So, to anyone out there juggling flaming torches, know this: God isn’t grading you on how many you can keep in the air. He’s more interested in walking with you through the drops, the burns, and the times you want to quit. His grace really is enough even when we’re not.
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