I still worry about what others think about me. I still hope everyone likes me. I never want to be the villain in anyone’s bedtime story.
But in the heart of those desires is pride. My assessment of myself is based on ‘goodness’ not ‘godliness’ and if I must be truthful, like Paul, no good dwells in me.
So, I’m grateful that God chooses to use a broken vessel like me. I’m glad that Jesus’s blood is powerful enough to clean a mess like me. I’m thankful that grace will always find a lost one like me.
If not for God, the worst you think of me might only be the beginning.