I’m getting age spots on my face.

I’m a pastor, and crowds exhaust me.

The beginnings of a tire are beginning to collect around my middle.

I’m selfish with my down time at least a little bit, every single day.

I get frustrated with people more easily than I used to.

I find it hard to put down what’s on my plate when it’s time to unplug and relax.

I play video games a little too much.

I get mad playing video games a little more than too much.

I’m getting better at this, but sometimes I lose my cool with my kids and use my words to cut and gouge their hearts.

When I’m tired, I want life to stop so I can rest.

I leave stray socks all over the house because my feet get hot flashes.

Sometimes I figure out how little I have to do to make my wife happy, and just do that instead of loving her wholeheartedly.

I’m not particularly generous most of the time.

I find it difficult to watch Shauna’s baking walk out of the house, even if the recipients of said baking are in dire need.

I’m on, or I’m off. The switch has a mind of its own.

Sometimes I get so focused that what I need to get done eclipses the fact that I love you and you are a wonderful human being.

Sometimes I practice tearing people to shreds with my words (in my head, that is) but rarely go through with it.

Deep down, I want life to be about me.

I want you to think I’m wonderful.

When people block my goals, I’d rather they just go away. The people, that is.

Sometimes words form in my mind that have no business being there. Sometimes—not often, but sometimes—they find their way out of my mouth.


I. Am. A piece of work.

God’s work. Handy work.

Sometimes, I love to be generous.

From time to time, I genuinely put others totally first.

I’m learning to trust and serve God.

I’m deeply, fatally flawed, but I really do love Jesus.

And his grace. Oh man, his grace.

It’s for real. I’m full of it.

It being my sin—and it being more than enough grace to match it, defeat it, cleanse it, banish it.

I am a piece of work.

And so are you.

So there we are.

Can we give each other that reality? Allow each other to be flawed?

Can we let that love cover a multitude of sins?

Or not?