Baby, be wobbly and strong today.
Be silly and serious.
Be loud and quiet.
Be quick to run and slow to listen and then turn around and learn to do the opposite tomorrow.
Be weird. Gloriously, unapologetically weird.
Following Jesus has always been a strange business. The King of the universe looks straight at us—right through the noise, right through the mess—and somehow says we are worth His sacrifice. Not because we are tidy or impressive or spiritually shiny, but because grace does not wait for permission.
We are not left as we are.
We are not abandoned to the worst parts of ourselves.
We are redeemed—ridiculously, recklessly, gloriously redeemed—by the Father’s grace, the Son’s sacrifice, and the steady, stubborn love of the Holy Spirit who refuses to stop working on us.
Nobody is just one thing.
Not you. Not me. Not anyone walking around on this wobbling planet.
We are always both/and.
You can be fragile and brave.
You can be tired and still faithful.
You can be a terrible gossip and still learn the holy discipline of shutting your mouth.
You can be a judgmental old crow one day and the next day remember—with a little shock—that you are the chief of sinners and still deeply loved.
You can be a soldier for the King and also tongue-tied when someone asks what Jesus has done for you.
Both things can be true.
Both things often are.
Christ Himself lived inside that beautiful mystery.
Fully God—the Word spoken before time—and also Mary’s boy from down the road, walking dusty streets and eating ordinary bread with ordinary people.
Both/and.
So take a minute today.
Fall at the cross.
Tell the truth about your sins.
Catch your breath.
Then get up again.
Be wobbly.
Be strong.
Be the strange, joyful, redeemed creature God is patiently shaping you into.
And remember that the One who filled the seas and hung the stars still calls you His.
