One of the hardest things to do is to believe that statement: God loves me, flaws and all. The world, or society, or even church teaches us that we have to be perfect. We have to act a certain way; we can’t do this or we can’t do that; there’s more of what we can’t do than what we can do in order to get into heaven; oh, and the big “S” is a no no – we cannot sin. Never mind the fact that we are born in sin and shaped in iniquity (for you bible scholars).
We are constantly judged by our church community if we have tattoos; look or dress differently; have a child out of wedlock; go to the bar occasionally; have a glass of wine occasionally; blah, blah, blah. We are shunned from joining any leadership roles if our sexual preference is not of the opposite gender. No, if we do not have that perfect look of a husband and wife, two kids, a dog and a white picket fence, then we are not worthy to be acknowledged or to have the light shine on us. No, keep the imperfect in the dark. No one wants to see that. No one wants to see the brokenness. No one wants to hear that you’ve been hurt and scorned. That’s imperfection and it has no place in our society or our church. Unless they are going to use it to their advantage to flaunt your pain, or capitalize on your hurt. Otherwise, we are told to shut up.
So believing that God can love me AND I’m flawed is a farfetched concept. But the reality is… HE DOES. God’s love for me is incomprehensible. It is unexplainable. And like me, it comes with no apologies. He loves me just because. My skin is covered with blemishes. God loves me. My teeth are pointy like a vampire and crooked. God loves me. My belly is a little fluffy. God loves me. My cellulite covers my hips and thighs. God loves me. My heart is broken into little pieces and I cry myself to sleep every night. God loves me. I am often alone and confused. God loves me. I have an occasional drink of red wine and smoke a cigar. God loves me. I am a single parent with a child out of wedlock. God loves me. My bank account is inadequate. God loves me. I don’t always do right, but I don’t always do wrong. God loves me. I say an occasional curse word when I’m angry or making a joke. God loves me.
Here’s the thing: I don’t have to question God’s love for me anymore. Most importantly, I don’t give a damn if you question His love for me. It doesn’t change a thing. He loves me and there’s nothing anyone, not even me, can do about it. So all I have to do is accept it. Accept that God loves me, flaws and all.