God loves the imperfect

As one who makes mistakes,
but tries desperately not to,
I confess, I love hearing that
God loves the imperfect.

As one who must regularly confess
the miscue, the misdeed, the missed mark,
I delight in the notion that
God loves the imperfect.

As one who, just yesterday,
said a quick yes, when I should have said a considered no.
I am grateful that
God loves the imperfect.

As one who just typed imprefect
rather than imperfect,
I am glad that God has a sense of humor 
and still loves the imperfect.

As one who pays too much attention 
to what others think, in hopes they'll approve, 
I sigh deeply to think that
God loves the imperfect.

As one whose tendency is 
to find fault with oneself and too often 
with the other, I am humbled to know that
God loves the imperfect.

As one who regularly revisits what I should have said, 
while others are speaking and I should be listening, 
I am bolstered to know that
God loves the imperfect.

As one who is easily distracted and often
a million miles away from where my feet are,
I feel the universe gather me back to the
God who loves the imperfect.
 
As one who regularly tries too hard
to earn her own approval,
I inch my way into the pool of grace and hear again that
God loves the imperfect.

The past is the past, God says,
as God's love of the imperfect 
firms the footing of those whom
God is perfecting.

On the sixth say, God created humankind,
you and me and all of thee,
and God said we were very good.
We were not yet perfect.

God loves.
God loved then.
And still, God loves the imperfect.
Thank God.


 

About wlebolt

Life comes at you fast. I like to catch it and toss it back. Or toss it up to see where it lands. I do my best thinking when I'm moving. And my best writing when I am tapping my foot to a beat no one else hears. Kinesthetic to the core.

Posted on January 25, 2022, in Christian, poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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