Sometimes I just need my daddy.
I am a professional first child.
What I mean by this is that I know all about pleasing other people, especially adults in authority. I take my life and my work and my mission seriously, and I am deeply passionate about doing my utmost at everything I do. I hate doing anything half-heartedly, and this includes my friendships, my job, my mission as a follower of Jesus to love the people He's placed in my life well. The list extends to going to bed on time so that I can get exactly seven and a half hours of sleep (you don't want to wake up in the middle of a sleep cycle, you know), driving at exactly the speed limit (not under so as to make the person behind me frustrated or over so as to break the law), etc, etc, etc.
First children are crazy...and of course, oh so lovable. I am convinced the world needs us and our self-driven ambition.
But the thing is, I can't be all that I want to be. At times, when I am not in the ideal circumstances, I get utterly frustrated with myself and depressed (and it doesn't help that I've been watching the show Mad Men lately...not exactly your picker upper).
And that's where I found myself this morning--unable to be everything that I think God wants for me to be, and finding that for all of my focused effort, I am still as unable to reach instant perfection as I was yesterday, or the day before, or ten years ago.
And then I remembered what I had run off and forgotten. I just can't be perfect. And my daddy God is so gentle and patient with me, and is reminding me as I type this that life is a journey, that sanctification (being made more and more like Jesus) is a process. And that if He is okay with that fact, then I am allowed to be, too.
And I remember again that if God had known I had needed another teacher or a drill sergeant or a great motivational speaker, He would have sent one. But I need a SAVIOR.
To save me from myself.
To save me from how much I love the things that hurt me and others.
To save me from my unrealistic first child expectations.
Because there is only one perfect first child, and He is all I need.
What I mean by this is that I know all about pleasing other people, especially adults in authority. I take my life and my work and my mission seriously, and I am deeply passionate about doing my utmost at everything I do. I hate doing anything half-heartedly, and this includes my friendships, my job, my mission as a follower of Jesus to love the people He's placed in my life well. The list extends to going to bed on time so that I can get exactly seven and a half hours of sleep (you don't want to wake up in the middle of a sleep cycle, you know), driving at exactly the speed limit (not under so as to make the person behind me frustrated or over so as to break the law), etc, etc, etc.
First children are crazy...and of course, oh so lovable. I am convinced the world needs us and our self-driven ambition.
But the thing is, I can't be all that I want to be. At times, when I am not in the ideal circumstances, I get utterly frustrated with myself and depressed (and it doesn't help that I've been watching the show Mad Men lately...not exactly your picker upper).
And that's where I found myself this morning--unable to be everything that I think God wants for me to be, and finding that for all of my focused effort, I am still as unable to reach instant perfection as I was yesterday, or the day before, or ten years ago.
And then I remembered what I had run off and forgotten. I just can't be perfect. And my daddy God is so gentle and patient with me, and is reminding me as I type this that life is a journey, that sanctification (being made more and more like Jesus) is a process. And that if He is okay with that fact, then I am allowed to be, too.
And I remember again that if God had known I had needed another teacher or a drill sergeant or a great motivational speaker, He would have sent one. But I need a SAVIOR.
To save me from myself.
To save me from how much I love the things that hurt me and others.
To save me from my unrealistic first child expectations.
Because there is only one perfect first child, and He is all I need.
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