Define yourself radically as one beloved by God. This is the true self. Every other identity is illusion.
Brennan Manning, Abba’s Child
Simple, really. Though I make it so hard. Yes, if you were to listen to the chunter of my heart, you would think he was impressed by everything that I’m not yet, perhaps even never will be.
For a day or two I withdraw. I spend most of the time hating my own prayerlessness, my lack of love, my not-enough. I hear him tell me that perhaps he is in this place and I do not know it. I hear him tell me. But still my stubborn heart prefers to call the same word, spoken three times, coincidence rather than God.
And I return, despairing of my own capacity to be what I want for him. Wondering where we go from here. Again. Wondering, even as the internal theologian berates me for this complete misconstrual of the gospel.
But perhaps silence and stillness have done their work. For in the turmoil of a heart divided, the gospel of belovedness whispers for the one who will strain to hear.