When I go to Jesus in prayer, I want to tell you what I received from him—what encouragement of spirit he gives to me. And then, I want to tell you all of the ways I experience difficulty in receiving this encouragement of spirit—all of the ways I fail to receive what he wants to offer.

What Jesus offers me is blessing and encouragement to my spirit, especially in the face of disappointments. He narrates his love for me. First, he tells me that I am loved. I am held in his heart. He has engraved me on his hands. I am known by him and cherished. Second, he tells me that I am wanted. I am not cast aside; I am wanted and desired by him. He tells me that I am cared for and that I stand as a full person before him. Third, he tells me that I am his own—I belong to him; even when I don’t fit other places, I fit with him. What more could the heart want that to be enveloped by these truths?

But, sadly, my spirit does not always receive what Jesus offers. I tell myself a counter-narrative. And it runs opposite of what Jesus tells me. I don’t always receive from Jesus what he wants to give to me. And, though I know he never tires of offering me his encouragement and aid, I often wish that I could better assimilate his news for my soul.

Instead of believing him about who I am, I resort to thinking myself an unworthy sinner. And, apart from God, that is what I am. I lived a life unworthy of God—full of filthy rags. I lived a life that was contrary to who he has now redeemed me to be. And, I am so used to that life, so used to those thoughts of myself, that I struggle to live in the new reality of my being the daughter of the Most High God. The truth is, God wants me to be changed and made new. He wants me to full embrace the beautiful transformation that he bought me with his blood. He wants me to enjoy the gift of the rebirth that I have been given. Do I think it holier to live in a state of despair over past (and present) sin? Do I think it wiser to consider myself only unworthy and sinner?

I do.

But Jesus wants me to know that he doesn’t keep telling me these blessed truths over and over and over and over for me to dismiss them and think that I have holier and wiser thoughts than the ones that he is delivered so sweetly to my soul.

He speaks the truth over me, and that is fact. He speaks the truth of who I am now. I can now live a much worthier life—a life unto him—because I have been saved into the newness of grace. To know grace is to live. To know grace is to finally be able to breathe in this life and have assurance of goodness for the life to come. God wants me to fully receive his grace, as much as I possibly can.

And, when I do, my spirit lifts. My disposition changes from a sense of diminishment of self to a place of glory in utter thankfulness. I admit, I know there must be more to the “other side”—that is, to living in God’s grace and his love and his wanting of me. There must be even more, but right now, what pours from me is thanksgiving—and a sense of wonder. “Really? Really, Jesus?” I ask him over and over. “You mean I don’t have to account for what I did anymore? You mean I don’t have to dwell in a place past of darkness any longer?” Wow. What else can I say? But wow. God’s grace is truly that amazing reality we sing about.

And so, when it comes to receiving God’s encouragements for my spirit, when the darkness of the past tries to pull me in once again, I preach to myself: receive. Let it be so. If God has said it, then it must be. If God has given it, then it must be true. If God has forgiven it, then it must be gone. Okay, my soul?

Every day, multiple times per day: “You are loved. You are wanted. You are my own.” Please keep telling me, Jesus. Please keep telling me, if it pleases you to do so, because I want to keep receiving it—drip by drip, piece by piece, and step by step. Apparently, this part of the gospel, the very good news of Jesus, is not instantaneous for my spirit. Apparently, this is a lesson learned over time. But, he keeps telling me, so he must be willing to walk this path with me. God is good.