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God Loves Even Hot Messes, Right?

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I confess. I am a mess.

Ooo, I was just a poet and didn’t know it.

But I am a mess.

Sometimes, I frighten people with my friendliness. It comes across too strong a little too early. I am an acquired taste, a bit odd and unusual. And sometimes I confuse someone who is friendly and nice to everybody with someone who genuinely wants to be my friend.

In other words, I’m unique.

So are you.

Maybe you’ve tried way too hard to make someone like you or be your friend.

Maybe you’ve wondered why all the people in your life seem gradually withdraw from you and go away after a while. Maybe even family members. Or spouses. The ones closest to you who you thought would always be there.

Here’s the thing. To God, you’re beautiful. To God, you’re a priceless work of art. To God, your worth is more than the very lifeblood of His only Son, all the agony and torture of a painful death on a cross. You matter.

I’ve come to believe the right people will see your mess and stick around anyway.

The right people will call out the good they see in you and help you to see it in yourself. They will help you remember that song in your heart when you’ve forgotten the words.

Even a Van Gogh painting probably looked like a mess when it was still in progress. And that’s what you are, dear friend.

A work in progress. A masterpiece in the making. Heaven’s poetry etched onto lives, as one translation of Ephesians 2:10 puts it.

Don’t despair. Don’t give up or give in to the pressure to be someone else or (perish the very idea) try to be normal.

Take courage, dear heart. God made you to be you. He delights in you being you. He’s even helping you find your truest self, the “youest” you.

Christmas is all about messes. Do you think the manger scene was pristine? Do you think the place where Jesus arrived was a 5-star hotel? It was not.

If Jesus arrived in the middle of a messy manger, then He above anyone understands what messes look like and how to make them clean. Not better, not improved, but new.

Celebrate that you’re you and no one else. One day, you’ll find out that your part in God’s Story might not have been the leading role, but it was vital to the Story and you made a difference in the outcome.

These are just the thoughts of one hot mess directed to all the other hot messes out there.

Is God Fluffy? Questions I’ve Never Thought About Until Now

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I sat in on a very interesting conversation with some friends and a man who’s name I have unfortunately forgotten. It was surreal and made my brain hurt a bit.

The guy said that God called him on a quest. Immediately, I thought something along the lines of “They should make pills for this.” The cheese had obviously slid off of this guy’s cracker.

He said that sometimes He calls God “Master Fluffy.” That one had me scratching me head. Master Fluffy? Really?

I’m just being honest. Keeping it real, as the kids nowadays put it.

Then again, I remembered some things.

Aren’t I taking meds, too? How would I think and behave if I’d been through west this guy has been through (or even half). My cheese might be completely AWOL from my cracker.

And doesn’t God speak of protecting us underneath His wings? Doesn’t He know when the lowliest sparrow falls from the sky? Doesn’t He delight in all His children, including the ones with broken minds and broken hearts?

Most of all, didn’t God put on human skin and come to pitch His tent among us? To laugh and weep with us? To experience every bit of what we face, except without sin?

I can’t help feeling sometimes that the most “normal” of us don’t get God half as much as the ones who don’t always act and speak normally. The ones who need pills to make their minds work right. The ones who felt ugly and stupid and fat and unloveable until they understood how large a space God has reserved in His heart just for them?

To get into God’s Kingdom, you have to be like a little child. I know it means you have to come acknowledging that you are helpless without God.

I like to think it also means you need to see the world through the eyes of a child, with eyes that cling to dreams, look for fairies and pixie dust, find miracles around every corner, and never give up hoping that joy will win in the end.

Celebrate not that you are normal, but that you are unique. Celebrate that there is and will never again be anything in the world quite like you. Find joy in being “heaven’s poetry etched in lives” (Ephesians 2:10).

Then you will start out discovering Eucharisteo, finding joy and thanksgiving and grace in everything, and living your miracle.

Take it from one unique and blessed Ragamuffin.

Back to Loving Being Me

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It really is okay to love yourself. After all, the Bible does say to love your neighbor as yourself and you can’t very well do that if you’re not too fond of you. I think there’s a kind of false modesty that gets passed around where we have the “aw shucks” mentality and downplay any compliments that come our way. I can tell you for certain that kind of thinking doesn’t come from God or the Bible.

God made you. He created you exactly how He wanted you to be and no matter how many scars and breaks and bruises and messes you may have accumulated along the way, He still loves the work of His own hands– you. No matter how you may have been rejected or friend-zoned by girls or guys, God is enraptured and enamored and captivated by you. He is completely and totally crazy in love with you.

I’m loving being me. I can say that I’m not like anybody else out there. That doesn’t make me odd. That might make me eccentric. What that does make me for absolute certain is unique. There is no one in the whole wide world quite like me, and I like that.

I love that I can be socially awkward at times. I love that I can be overly enthusiastic in my friendliness and sometimes be perceived as coming across a little creepy.  That’s okay. Aside from maybe needing to visit Decaf-land from time to time, I’m fine if not every single person likes what I have to offer. Many people were turned off by Jesus.

I love that when God sees me, He sees Jesus. He sees beauty and perfection and wisdom and strength beyond measure. He sees my very best self, the one only hinted at in my best moments of selfless devotion. He sees the finished product of who I will become.

As of this moment, I refuse to take on myself any names other than the ones He has given me. Not from family or friends. Not from co-workers. Not even from me. I don’t have to be defined by words spoken in frustration or anger or resignation. I am no longer the mistakes I’ve made or the chances I’ve missed or the good intentions coming up short.

I am Forgiven. I am Set Free. I am Redeemed. I am A New Creation. I am Blameless.

Of all the names God has given me, my favorite is this: I am His Beloved Son in whom He is well pleased.

My hope and prayer for you tonight is to let go of all the names you or anyone else has called you out of hate or anger and embrace the name given in love by your Creator and Redeemer and Savior. Listen to Him calling you His Beloved Child. Hear Him singing His delight over you and smiling over you. Let your life be defined by God’s pleasure over you instead of people’s disappointment in you.

I truly hope and pray that you will come to the point where you can truly and honestly say that you love being you.

Imaginary Girlfriends and Other Odd Topics

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Yeah, I heard about Manti Te’o’s imaginary girlfriend. I don’t know (and I don’t care) if he was in on the hoax or not. I’m not even sure what the point was. In fact, the more I think about it, the more it makes me want to lie down and take a nap.

But if I had an imaginary girlfriend, she’d look a lot like Zooey Deschanel. Or possibly Grace Kelly (if we’re allowed to use dead celebrities). And knowing my luck, I’d fool exactly no one. But she’d be pretty.

It seems to me that there are so much more out there that’s news-worthy. Imaginary girlfriend hoaxes strike me as being tabloid fodder more than actual news stories. But then again, I am not in charge of what is considered news.

That’s why I like my television to be as unrealistic as possible. Reality is too weird. I’ll stick to aliens and vampires and zombies and alternate universes. You know, the normal stuff. I avoid reality television shows like the plague and am drawn to shows like The X-Files and Charmed and Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Revolution (I do like some current series).

There’s not really a moral lesson in all this. Well, maybe this. I have enough trouble keeping my own life in line without worrying about other people’s issues. I certainly can’t cast any stones when I see my own long list of past mistakes and stupid choices.

I’m not quick to jump on the moral superiority bandwagon and bash those who’ve lied or cheated or messed up in some way. Who knows? I might have done the same or worse in a similar predicament.

I’d better end this quickly. My imaginary (and pretty) girlfriend just texted me and wants to set up a skype session. Now, I’m thinking she looks like Selma Hayek.

PS I’ve changed my mind again for the last time. Introducing my imaginary girlfriend whom I text every night. We are so very close, in a completely virtual way.

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