Meditating on stillness, grace, and the voice of God
What if you could just…be?
What if you didn’t have to try quite so hard and run so fast? And keep so many plates spinning? What if you could be still and trust that God is right there—that he has never left you, has never been farther away than your breath?
What if we are the ones who forget that he is there?
What if you didn’t have to remember to be caring and selfless and holy and smart and merciful and likable and beautiful and evolved and strong and impenetrable and…impressive? What if you just had to remember to lift your face and meet his with yours? What if you surrendered to the love that has always been loving you, and loved it back?
What if the you that you are right this moment—or even the you in your least likable moments, when you feel the least worthy of love and the most full of shame—was the only you? And that version of you was still beloved? What if even the version of you that feels like a disappointment still bears the Imago Dei (the image of God)? What if His glory lights up your broken parts?
What if you just were?
What if your primary job as a human being was to “be”? And grace was enough for today? What if you simply made time to listen—really listen—to God tell you who you are instead of letting that hurtful voice inside your head get to do it?
What if that voice of judgment and ridicule and never-enoughness that you hear is nothing like what his voice sounds like? What if you kept listening until you heard it? What if you could stop defending yourself and let that love wash over you?
What if the thing you are wrestling with—the thing that makes you certain that you are all alone—is something I wrestle with too? What if there is a community for you that is struggling just like you?
What if, instead of hiding the worst parts of you, you just…stepped into them, stood tall, shrugged your shoulders, and said: “This is me. He knit me together in my mother’s womb. Even when I screw it all up, he still chooses me.”
“I may not understand it. I may not deserve it. I may not even be able to love other people with this same sacrificial love. But nonetheless, here I stand, beloved.”
What if you could be tender with yourself? Full of compassion?
What if your ability to find self-compassion was the key to growing your compassion for others? What if there was another brother or sister who was hurting just like you? What if letting God heal your heart helped you to see those hurting around you just a little more clearly?
Perhaps we can learn this together. Here I am, sitting at his feet beside you, also learning to be loved.
The Squooshy 
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