Perfect

It was Palm Sunday and all I could think about was perfect. The pastor wasn’t preaching on perfect. Not even on the perfect sacrifice that Christ was.

Just me. In my mind. Telling God I didn’t think it was so funny. Or perfect for that matter. This mess that I have struggled with and against, I am working on seeing it as good.

So, since I am finally stepping onto the right road, I see the big sign that says, “Now that you have entered GOOD, please adjust your glasses to see PERFECT.”

Not me.

God is not calling me perfect. He sees His Son in me as perfect. The groaning is perfectly guiding me along to where I need to be.

Now, of course, that I was willing to start to say I can see this detour as a good thing, a good change, now I am asked to accept it for the perfect gift from the Perfect Provider of all gifts.

The actions, the sins both against me and by me, were not good, not right or perfect, but perfectly used by a Perfect Love to draw me toward Truth.

Since hearing “perfect” chanted throughout the service last week, I have been struggling towards acceptance of so many last little bits in this chapter. No one wants to trudge through repetitious blabbering. No one wants to write it either. Which only leaves one answer for what seemed like a multiple choice question. Place the period. Turn the page.

Perfect Triptychs of Grace:

3 attempts at one meeting

a gift hiding, held, heard:

heart truth waiting for someone else to see it, my frustrations vented to one who would hold them in confidence, the heart truth   spoken back to me quietly with encouragement

3 gifts in His word:

Psalm 136–His love endures forever

scrap paper with Papa’s note

this declaration

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