I’ve always tried to be worthy. Worthy of the God who died for me.
I’ve always tried to be enough. To serve Him enough. To give Him enough.
I knew that I could never earn my salvation, but I still wanted to “be worth it.”
But at last the truth caught up to me. The overwhelming, crushing truth. I can’t do it. I am utterly incapable of doing good in God’s eyes. Completely unable to stand righteous before him. I will never reach the standard. I will never be enough.
But it was when I saw how wreched and hopeless I am that I also came face to face with the powerful mercy of God. How dependent on that mercy I am! How entirely reliant on His compassion! How greatly I must hold to His own strength to do His will and obey His commands.
I cling to the consolation that, “Like as a father pitieth his children, so the LORD pitieth them that fear Him. For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust.” Psalm 103:13, 14
Over and over again I fail. I do wrong. I mess up. I fall short.
But day by day, I sense His presence still with me. I rise every morning by His mercy and lie down each night by His grace. I have lived year to year, why? Not for anything I have done or ever could do. But because of Him. Because He chose me. Because He has a plan for me. And He deserves all the praise for His longsuffering and His love toward me.
Words fail me to begin to express the smallest portion of His goodness to me. “What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?” (Psalm 8:4)
All I can say is, “…I trust in the mercy of God for ever and ever.” (Psalm 52:8b)