Imperfect

I am an imperfect person.

That’s not an excuse. It’s a fact.

No matter how hard I try or how good my intentions, I simply cannot live a perfect life or do things perfectly.

I fail.

Miserably.

It seems the harder I try the more imperfect I become.

(Sigh….)

Of course, it’s my failings and failures that call attention to and blatantly proclaim my inabilities…shortsightedness…selfishness…all the while my pride screams “cover up!” and seeks to do just that.

Put on a righteous facade. Point fingers at others (remember there are three pointing back at me).  Blame another.  Call attention to the shortcomings of…and wag my head…bad mouth…gossip…compare….

And, all the while it’s me, me, ME who plays the game, knows the shame, bears the blame….

Cursing, cursed wretch that I am…hypocrite.

I know who I am.  I am greeted daily by this fact each morning when I awaken, with every choice made, with each flash of emotion and flicker of conscience.

Enter God’s grace in the person Jesus.

Ah, there is hope for this wretched human.

And, there is hope for you as well.

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