Dear, Me. Please stop being so human.

Kevin. One of my favorite humans.

Kevin. One of my favorite humans.

Dear, Me. Please stop being so human.

Over the past three months I have become aware in fresh ways of my humanity. I watch myself doing things that I should know better than to do. Saying things that I should know not to say. Responding in ways that I should have learned now are not going to bring about the desired result. Sometimes I am aware of my mistakes in real time and other mistakes unravel over weeks and months.

I’m not talking about a "big"  blatant sin. I’m talking about being flawed. Being human. Knowing better and yet doing it anyway. 

And when I glance at my reflection … I see the scars of my humanity and I find myself cringing. Shrinking inward and wanting to mask all that is not right. 

We all have the urge to cover and contain the weak parts of ourselves. The areas that still need work.

It’s the little things that do it to us. Realizing that we repeated gossip. Trying to control our roommate with a sly comment. Unleashed insecurity in someone else because we tried to flatter ourselves in attempts to appease our own insecurity. 

Surely we know better by now. Surely we are better. But we aren’t really. 

Our imperfection still haunts us every now and then. Despite all our wishing, we can't proofread our days or delete comments that have stung another soul. 

This morning I was talking with God about some areas that I feel embarrassed about in my life. The smallness of my growth and wisdom mocks me. I rolled over certain situations in my head from the past few months and replayed all the ways I could deflect my feelings of inadequacy. 

But it remains. I am inadequate

I am imperfect and flawed. I am offensive at times and tender at times. I make wise choices and immature choices back to back. Best intentions and faith filled steps take me to beautiful places and then the same feet cross lines. 

No matter how hard I try, I am human. I am imperfect. I am in need of a Savior.

Again. 

At age 36 I still need Jesus to step in and transform. To shave down the rough edges. My encounter with God wasn’t a one time thing. It is an every moment kind of humble that admits I still can’t do it perfectly. All the sermons, podcasts, Bible study, prayer and experience. It has born so much fruit and yet there are still branches that need pruning.

I still need Jesus. You still need Jesus. 

Our dependency on Him never goes away. And neither does He.

He never goes away and shames us. He invites us in. Closer, closer, even closer still. Drawing us into a fire that refines and warms us simultaneously. 

See, it is our flaws that make Him so beautiful. His perfection is our redemption. And I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

Liz Griffin