Monday morning didn't go the way I planned. Little things went wrong - hardly moral failures, but simply falling short of my own expectations. I'd catch myself tense, shoulders drawn up, chest tight, waiting to breathe. My thoughts kept returning to those fallings-short, guilt rearing its ugly head each time. It seemed like every sixty seconds, I had to mentally grab myself by the shoulders and shout, "Rachel, stop that!"
Tuesday, the very next day, I was up early. I'd slept well and had enough time not to feel rushed as I got ready for the day. I made coffee and even sat down for breakfast (usually I just take bites in between getting ready). I'd finished my reading for our Thursday small group (and it was only Tuesday!) and was well on my way to finishing my personal reading goal by the end of the year. I made it to class with enough time to spare. A sense of satisfaction spread through me as I shifted in my chair.
And just like that, I realized - shocked - that yesterday's guilt had become today's pride. It was self-focus, all of it. Do I actually believe God's view of me is based on something as shifting and fickle as my own performance? Do I?
I pulled my attention back to class, where we were discussing Colossians 2:6-7. What is the main point Paul is making here, he asked, in light of the whole book? That Christ was enough. Complete. Perfect.
I sat there, tearing up instantly, reminded yet again of how quickly I lose sight of that, how desperately I need grace. And there it was - there it always is - a steady hand on my wild seesaw of self.
Inhale. Exhale. He is enough.
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