I know; there's an explicit version that no self-respecting Christian bookstore owner should ever commit heresy by listening to. But as I walk to my car, arms fully loaded, the tears and fears threaten to falter my steps as I leave the store after over 12 hours. How could I have been so busy for so long a day, feel this exhausted, and feel like I accomplished nothing? The lies flood my mind. I don't deserve to run this place; I'm failing to stay on top of orders, to return emails and voice messages, to make the right marketing decisions, to give wise advice to those coming in for guidance for difficult life-circumstances. Just today, there was a string of multiple ruined marriages; a sibling recently coming out of the closet; a 20-something daughter struggling as a single mom; a homeless man that wanted to hang out in the kid's jungle hut to finish his meal. I'm so ill-equiped to minister to these needs, and I feel guilty when impatience rears its ugly head because my to-do list is being further delayed. All I can fixate on is the un-dones of the day. The attack is soul-smothering and I let the tears fall as I hear the lyrics that, to me, ring true from the throne of God:
You're so mean
When you talk
About yourself, you were wrong
Change the voices in your head
Make them like you instead
So complicated
Look how we all make it
Filled with so much hatred
Such a tired game
Pretty, pretty please
Dont you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than,
Less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing
You are perfect to Me.
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