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the fellowship of suffering
What if life is not about trying to be better? What if what matters is becoming present in the midst of it? I’m mulling over the introductory chapters of my preordered copy of K.J. Ramsey’s new book, This Too Shall Last. It is a raw account of learning to sit with pain and suffering so that grace has room to well up in our weakness and speak louder than our shame. It is a message that has arrived in my life at the odd juxtaposition of facing the pain of perfectionism, the shame of singleness, and the inescapable reality of my identity as a writer. In this book, K.J. weaves…
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imperfect
Perfectionism … fair warning, friends, I’m going to rip this thing wide open. I’m guessing you might be cringing right now, because you’re right in there with me. God, how many women have become entangled by the enemy’s lies on this subject? And oh, how You want us to be free! So let me pick up where I left off: perfectionism is hell. I don’t use either word lightly. Perfectionism has been camouflaged as pretty, dismissed with nervous laughter, excused as a personality trait, even lauded as a strength. It is none of the above. It is a trap, a torment, and the worst kind of betrayal, for it allures…
