I am a mess who is too hard on herself. So the struggle to believe I am loved and worth something to God and others has been an uphill battle for a decade or more.
It feels like I’ve pieced together this confidence, in God and in myself, like a tattered blanket; I’ve fought for each stitch and the wear shows, with frayed edges decorating the borders.
Occasionally, a word or a moment snags one of those frayed edges and I have a brief cosmetic unraveling. No real harm done, but some work is slightly undone and I find myself going to God and asking Him to stitch me up again.
The other night was one of those moments. A friendly comment–it meant nothing–and yet it latched onto the ache of unmet desires. Before I knew it, I was wiping tears away.
The enemy of my soul said all kinds of things that weren’t kind towards me or true of God and I felt the pull to believe him. But I’ve learned the importance of the agreements I make, so I put the phone away and I sat with God. I gathered tattered threads of faith and said, “I trust You.”
And I do.
But I think I can still mourn and grieve while trusting. I think I can still trust Him in the process, not just after the progress is evident.
I am learning that trusting God is messier and harder and easier and more freeing than I ever imagined.
He is all things and everything and I haven’t even scratched the surface of His goodness.
And that can be true even when I long for things that feel forever out of my reach.
That can be true even when my nerves feel like they are literally going to be the end of me.
That can be true even when my heart breaks and I can’t see myself the way He does.
God’s goodness is not dependent on my understanding of Him. It isn’t dependent on my grasp of His will. And it certainly isn’t dependent on whether I get what I want or not.
My faith is not a Yelp review. I don’t get to rate God on my scale of satisfaction. He is the scale.
He has always been–and will always be–good and trustworthy and infinitely more than I could ever deserve.
I tell Him to watch for the frayed edges as He stitches me back together.
He reminds me that He’s the One who stitched me together in the first place.
And so these threads of faith and threads of trust are stitched together again . . . not painlessly, but with the signature of a Creator who makes all things new.