She would give me that look when I sang that said everything: You can make everyone else think you’re a good Christian, but I know better.
And I began to believe that unless I was perfect, I couldn’t pray, couldn’t go to church, couldn’t approach the Divine.
Friends? That’s really screwed up.
Jesus, the rabbi who walked among us, the one who is Love incarnate, came to the most broken people, the sinners, the outcast.
He railed against the religious elite of the day who were bound by legalistic rules.
Can I say this? You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to keep it together.
Come. Just as you, broken or healing, sinner and saint. Come with your baggage and your hang-ups, your addictions and your scars.
Our God is waiting with open arms.