As the day dawned, I rolled over and longed for more of the night.

Alone in my bed, rancid thoughts pushed their way to the front of my mind.

How long will I accuse myself? Judge the creation of the Lord?

Am I not like the rest of His of work?

Am I not Good?

The ancient answer is apparent and obvious: Yes.

I am Good.

For everything He made He called Good.

From this perch, my mind shouts its strongest indictment:

If I am good, why do I struggle?

Why?

No amount of extra sleep or wishing away the dawn is an antidote to the sickness of my imperfection.

Suddenly, like the rising sun,

the Holy Spirit arrives in all Her kind glory,

The Accuser exposed.

She quietly reminds me of the eternal truth.

Yes, I am Good.

No, I am not perfect, not complete, not finished.

Perfection is not the expectation of the Spirit, but flawed men.

My servant Savior didn’t demand the perfection so preached in our churches.

He said,”Come after me. Seek the Father. The rest will care for itself.”

So on this dreary morning, full of doubt,

I will not answer my attacker or plead my case.

I will not submit evidence to the court as proof of my worth.

Nah.

I will rise and whisper:

Lord, here I am.

I give you everything that I am.

I lay down my doubts and pain,

my hopes and dreams.

I trust you and accept the life your planned for me,

Your grace, hopes and dreams,

Your eyes and ears for me.

Rip out the roots of the accuser,

Water the seeds You put in my heart,

Your will be done in my life and through my life this day.

I refuse to listen to the same lies that work to tie me down and hold me in shame,

I accept your Word over me.

I love You, and I’m so thankful You are real and love me.

Amen.