"Over the years, the growing consciousness of radical grace has wrought profound changes in my self-awareness. Justification by grace means that I know myself accepted by God as I am. When my heat is enlightened and my heart is pierced by this truth, I can accept myself as I am. Genuine self-acceptance is not derived form the power of positive thinking, mind games, or pop psychology. It is an act of faith in the God of Grace." (Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel, 48-9)

I love Brennan Manning. Other than certain stories in the Bible and of course Jesus Christ, Brennan is the poster boy for grace. He writes paragraphs like this that leave me in awe and wanting that so bad -- to accept myself as I am, right here, right now -- no matter the circumstance.

The problem of perfection is that the right here, right now is not "okay." We can always do more or do it better. Even if we achieve the desired outcome, there is no time wasted before we're on to what is next or cleaning up the next mess or faced with yet another disaster that grips our ever-ready attention.

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Something occurred to me a while ago, after a family visit. I'm not sure what holiday it was, nor do I recall exactly which family members were present. I just remember that I said something someone did not like, and the next comment I heard was, "you always do that, Christy."

The thing about that, which stopped me cold in my tracks, was that I knew that I did not always do that. In fact, I knew that I used to always do that, but I had not done that in a really long time. The relative, who has known me since before I was born, could only see me the way I was years ago. He and I only see each other a few times a year, if that, so his best understanding of who I am as a person is defined by who I was the last time we saw one another on a daily basis.

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The following is something my wife Sarah wrote today, and it brilliantly illustrates what is on my mind.  I probably could not have written this today, but wanted to share her words.

From Sarah's Blog Today, March 8:

Eighteen years ago today, my husband's father died.

It started out like any other day. Phil was a junior in high school, the only child of two incredibly loving parents. Phil's dad, Ed, was the senior pastor at a large, thriving and growing church in Tucson, Arizona. His mom was just about as sweet and kind as anyone you've ever met.

Mom & Dad were in Seattle for a couple of days, teaching at a church where they had many friends, and had lived before. Phil stayed in Tucson. It was a Sunday afternoon. Phil got a phone call from someone his family knew in Seattle. Ed had been in a pretty bad car accident.

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Sometimes I wonder how Falling felt? Like in the Garden…like when Eve consciously chose what she’d been told not to…by God*? What did it sound like, or look like? Did her appearance changed when death was born? Did Adam scream at his lover’s choice, or maybe Creation screamed? Maybe everything went silent? Maybe prior to the picking, life all organic and orgasmic and wholly real?

It may be too simplistic to say anything of God is real, and anything not of God is unreal (or sin). But I think it’s at least fair to say “reality” is quintessential to the Garden of Eden. Whereas “unreality” is the alluring trigger that launches our fictitious quests. It bequeaths our palates to satisfactions other than God, meaning just God no longer satisfies our plates**. And enhancements by the forbidden make me feel most like my Maker***. Because of the Fall, what’s actually real feels farfetched. And what’s actually an illusion seems a worthwhile reality. Especially for we churchy folks, delusional states often feel more preferable to that which is true.

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We are afraid of emptiness. Spinoza speaks about our "horror vacui," our horrendous fear of vacancy. We like to occupy-fill up-every empty time and space. We want to be occupied. And if we are not occupied we easily become preoccupied; that is, we fill the empty spaces before we have even reached them. We fill them with our worries, saying, "But what if ..."

It is very hard to allow emptiness to exist in our lives. Emptiness requires a willingness not to be in control, a willingness to let something new and unexpected happen. It requires trust, surrender, and openness to guidance. God wants to dwell in our emptiness. But as long as we are afraid of God and God's actions in our lives, it is unlikely that we will offer our emptiness to God. Let's pray that we can let go of our fear of God and embrace God as the source of all love.

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We had the good fortune to travel to the balmy island of Kaua’i (notice the apostrophe – I’m pretty much a local now) last week. We try to get to Hawai’i (again, notice apostrophe) every February to escape the gray doldrums of living in the Pacific Northwest in the winter. Mid-January, our Southern California blood starts demanding we get it some Vitamin D. We use our companion tickets for airfare and my in-laws graciously cover the accommodations. So, the trip really is almost free, if we refrain from eating out too much while we’re on the island. Almost free paradise is my kind of paradise. We were in Kaua’i when we got the news that we can go pick up our son at the end of March. The news felt surreal, dream-like. We weren’t expecting this news until at least mid-summer. I e-mailed a few friends about the news but mostly just walked around in a daze induced by tropical landscape and shock. Toward the end of our trip, I was finally able to blog about it somewhat articulately to announce the news to the world (see previous post).

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We have some incredible news to share. This is not your run of the mill incredible news. This is over the top, mind blowing incredible news. This is news that has sent us to the moon and back several times over the last few days. Over a year ago, I wrote a blog about our heart for adoption, about how we felt God strongly calling us to expand our family. You can read it here.

So, people, here’s our news: WE ARE GOING TO PICK UP OUR SON THE LAST WEEK OF MARCH. THAT’S FOUR WEEKS FROM NOW. We started the adoption process in October of 2009 and now, just a short 5 months later, we have a court date. If you are at all familiar with normal international adoption processes, this is really, really fast. My husband’s brother’s family waited over two years. Other friends have waited eighteen months.

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My greatest war is the war against my own heart. I don’t lie because I want to; I lie because I’m not accustomed to spaces I can trust. I don’t cheat because I dislike my current state; I cheat because I dislike myself. I don’t steal because I need something; I steal because I don’t know what I have. I don’t kill because I hate them; I kill because I hate me. I like to be polished on the outside and lend no hint of needing help. On the rare occasions of one too many Merlots, or a trustworthy late-night chat, you might barrow my flimsy walls. And once there, you inevitably find needs, pleas, and most notably, me. Rarely will I let one in by choice though. “It feels too weak, or isn’t worthy of your time. When you ask if you can pray for me, I’ll go on to convince you to focus elsewhere…God has to handle everyone else’s problems, right? (Plus inner dialogue of, “What would they think if they actually knew what I was thinking)?” In short, in my weakest states, I hide. I hide my thirsts, inabilities and insecurities, thereby protecting myself from ever being truly seen, heard, or known.

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