Inadequate

Sometimes there's this feeling that resides within the depths of my heart. Like a herald it shouts out to be heard, taking up a place of primacy before all other emotions, thoughts, loves that share in the turmoil of the day-to-day in my soul: I'm not good enough.

I consider all that I am and cannot see accomplishment or good, but only inadequacy and fault. Areas that need to improve seem so much more overbearing than those that are good. There are days I take inventory of my soul and simply ask myself, "What am I doing? Is anything I'm offering good, or am I too jaded, too prideful, to immature?" This tension exists between the gospel that desires to cry out, "You are loved!" and ten thousand different experiences that scream otherwise. More often than not, my weaknesses and failures define me much more than any love that I may have experienced. I look in the mirror and can only see weakness, brokenness and doubt. How could anyone ever love someone like me? It is so difficult to believe that I could ever be capable of love or being loved in return, when love is simply recognizing the good in something or someone.

Where is my "good?"

Yet this tension continues to exist. As much as I would rather drift into the abyss of depression and linger in the swamps of self-loathing, there is this tiny whispering that continues to persist in the back of my head, "You are loved."

I know the love of my family.

I know the love of my closest friends.

I know the love of my mentors.

I know the love of my God.

All I can do is lay myself down and simply sob quietly in prayer, "Take this all away."

Down

Today I came into an even greater realization of my failures. Rita laid out for me several things: my immaturity, my pride, my pessimism and called me to something greater. She questioned my drive, saying I valued community more than ministering to the teens. All I can say is:

Duh.

How can I minister well if I have no community to lift me up? How can I be the best that I can be if all I ever do is pour myself out without taking time to fill myself back up? She even told me that since I'm planning on leaving in the spring to, "just leave."

All of this I appreciated her bringing to my attention, truly, but as the night has dragged on it's made me become even more palpably aware of one thing: I don't belong here. I know that I've probably been a huge let-down to St. Thomas, I know I've probably screwed up more lives than I've helped, but all I can say is that I've been trying my best with the limited love that I have to operate from here. I can only hope I've been a beautiful letdown. 

Pray for my teens, that I don't screw them up too much. Pray for the ministry that I don't screw it up too much. Pray for me, that I don't screw me up too much. What can I say? I don't belong here.