“To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.”
LEVITICUS 18-19
JOURNAL
It is easy, even within faith, to fall into the trap of believing that the goal of life is to fix everything about ourselves that feels broken or lacking. We convince ourselves that if we could just correct the flaws, quiet the doubts, and smooth the rough edges, then we would finally be acceptable to others, to ourselves, and even to God. Growth and repentance matter, but taken too far, that pursuit becomes a rejection of who we actually are.
What we often miss is that the beauty of life is not found in arriving perfected, but in the process of becoming. Our authenticity, with all its messiness and unfinished edges, is not something to hide. It is the very place where grace does its work. God is not waiting for a better version of us. He meets us exactly where we are.
This truth comes into sharp focus at the cross. Jesus is crucified. The brutality of humanity is exposed in full view. He cries out to God while being mocked, spat on, and challenged to save Himself. Darkness covers the land. It is a horrifying scene, not only because of the suffering, but because it reveals what we are capable of when fear and pride rule us. We destroy goodness. We mock righteousness. We avoid responsibility and allow suffering to continue.
And yet the cross is not God’s rejection of humanity. It is His refusal to abandon it. Every one of us carries guilt. No one moves through life unscarred by sin or failure. But the cross declares that God does not love us after we are cleaned up. He loves us in our brokenness and transforms us from within. Redemption does not erase our story. It redeems it. Grace does not deny our mess. It enters it.
Therefore the cross is not a demand for perfection. It is an invitation to honesty. It calls us to stop trying to save ourselves and to receive what we could never earn. This is the greatest love imaginable. A love that steps into suffering, absorbs the weight of our brokenness, and offers forgiveness instead of condemnation. In many ways, we are like babies. Helpless, dependent, often selfish, unable to care for ourselves. And yet we call babies perfect, not in ability, but in authenticity. Their weakness does not disqualify them from love.
The cross reveals the same truth about us. We are not redeemed because we finally become capable, but because God meets us in our helplessness and calls us worthy of love. Our lives are made beautiful as God meets us in the middle of our honest mess and turns what the world calls failure into a perfection rooted in love and truth..
It is easy, even within faith, to fall into the trap of believing that the goal of life is to fix everything about ourselves that feels broken or lacking. We convince ourselves that if we could just correct the flaws, quiet the doubts, and smooth the rough edges, then we would finally be acceptable to others, to ourselves, and even to God. Growth and repentance matter, but taken too far, that pursuit becomes a rejection of who we actually are.
What we often miss is that the beauty of life is not found in arriving perfected, but in the process of becoming. Our authenticity, with all its messiness and unfinished edges, is not something to hide. It is the very place where grace does its work. God is not waiting for a better version of us. He meets us exactly where we are.
This truth comes into sharp focus at the cross. Jesus is crucified. The brutality of humanity is exposed in full view. He cries out to God while being mocked, spat on, and challenged to save Himself. Darkness covers the land. It is a horrifying scene, not only because of the suffering, but because it reveals what we are capable of when fear and pride rule us. We destroy goodness. We mock righteousness. We avoid responsibility and allow suffering to continue.
And yet the cross is not God’s rejection of humanity. It is His refusal to abandon it. Every one of us carries guilt. No one moves through life unscarred by sin or failure. But the cross declares that God does not love us after we are cleaned up. He loves us in our brokenness and transforms us from within. Redemption does not erase our story. It redeems it. Grace does not deny our mess. It enters it.
Therefore the cross is not a demand for perfection. It is an invitation to honesty. It calls us to stop trying to save ourselves and to receive what we could never earn. This is the greatest love imaginable. A love that steps into suffering, absorbs the weight of our brokenness, and offers forgiveness instead of condemnation. In many ways, we are like babies. Helpless, dependent, often selfish, unable to care for ourselves. And yet we call babies perfect, not in ability, but in authenticity. Their weakness does not disqualify them from love.
The cross reveals the same truth about us. We are not redeemed because we finally become capable, but because God meets us in our helplessness and calls us worthy of love. Our lives are made beautiful as God meets us in the middle of our honest mess and turns what the world calls failure into a perfection rooted in love and truth..
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