Lord, there is so much I want to do. So much You made me able to do. Not just in my home or professional life, but in my faith life. I want to grow deeper, learn more, and pray more. I want to find more of You.

But the inherent beauty in grace lies in this truth: I can’t do a single thing to earn any more of Your love.

I can try. I can strive, commit, persevere. Achieve, succeed, reach.

And yet You’ve already offered me all of Yourself, independent of what I will do or have done. Understanding this is freeing and frustrating all at once. Because it takes off the pressure—while forcing me to look beyond myself. To realize Your acceptance is not about my abilities, to recognize that my relationship with You cannot be forced. I can’t make it happen. Instead, I must yield. I cannot bend Your will into submission. And I cannot doggedly hold onto my own will, either.

Truly, I don’t want to. It’s a relief to know this is one thing I absolutely cannot do. And to have permission to stop trying and simply be. To be in Your presence. To be the object of Your love.

To be defined by You, not by what I do or who I am.

You’ve effectively taken the responsibility off me, and You hold it in Your capable hands. There is no better place to be than right here, right now, with You. To simply rest and stop trying. To know that You are the source. You are the way I find You. You are the way I get there, and You are also the destination.

You are all that You ever claimed to be, and more than enough.

You want me to come to You just as I am. Not when I’ve done more. Not after I’ve completed my task list. But now. With everything else stripped away. No recognition, no awards or accolades.

Just You and me.

It’s the most I could ever hope for.

Amen.