Spiritual Immaturity?

I've never heard my wife pray.

We've been together for 15 years, been a part of ministry for 5, and led countless small groups....yet, I've never heard her pray out loud.  As a family, we pray every morning before work, before every meal, before bed and a few times in between...but I've never audibly heard her pray.  To some, this may seem like spiritual immaturity.  My question is, what constitutes "spirituality"?

A couple weeks ago, my wife and I were at a Tim McGraw concert.  Throughout the night, I felt myself becoming increasingly annoyed at the people around me.  The beer garden was getting plenty of attention, we saw multiple drug usage and drug transactions, and the balance and speech of those around me became more and more unstable.  I was about to complain about those around me, until my wife said one sentence that made me stop.

"I wonder how many people here know Jesus?"

I've never heard my wife pray, but I see the affects of her prayer life.  I've never heard my wife pray, but I feel the power of her spirituality.  

I've been blessed with having the opportunity to speak to over a thousand people about my testimony, shared my faith with hundreds of students in multiple cities, and helped counsel multiple at-risk teens and adults.  But on the surface, does that label me a "spiritual" person?  In my heart, I know who my Savior is, but on the outside those actions could just mean I like to hear myself talk.  Someone may have a Bible full of highlighted and underlined verses, but that may just mean they are good at coloring.    I've heard people who were so eloquent when they prayed, praying for everything under the sun for what seemed like ages and using words that I felt the need to Google later, only to see how their life didn't match the words that they spoke.

My wife walks the walk, without the talk.

I have come to realize that it's not the number of people who hear you pray, not the length of your prayers, or the need to perfectly script your words.  It's WHO you are praying to that's important.  My wife gets that.  I don't know why my wife won't pray out loud, but I don't care.  That's not what matters.  Her life has been a walking prayer.  I know thousands and thousands of prayers have gone up to God on my behalf, said by my wife.  The change in my life has been a direct result of Krystal's prayers for me.  When I was too ashamed to pray, she continued to pray.  When I was too weak to pray, her prayers got stronger.  At the moment I was about to end it all, she interrupted it because "something told me to come home."  If my wife's prayer life wasn't in tune, I don't know what would have happened.

I've never heard my wife pray, but her prayers saved my life.

I've heard multiple people say "I wish I was as spiritual as (insert person here)." Spirituality isn't based on the way you say a prayer, the way you highlight your Bible, the amount of people you've spoke in front of, or even the way you say your prayers.  My personal relationship with Jesus Christ is how I define myself.  It's not what I know, it's who I know.  If you feel you can't measure up to the prayers said out loud by others, don't get discouraged.  It's not about that.  Talk to God as you would talk to your best friend.  That's all that matters.  It's not about how great your prayers are, it's about how great your God is.  Talk to Him, not me.

As others look towards the preachers on TV, the pastors in their church, the leader of their small group, the guy with the Bible painted all in different colors, or the speaker giving a "perfectly" worded prayer and think "I have a long way to go, " I look at my wife, kneeling quietly by our bedside, head pressed into the covers and sometimes with a trace of a tear coming out of her eye, as she talks to her Savior, and I silently think:

I wish I could be that spiritual.

Disagreement or Hate?

Michael Sam.  Jason and David Benham.

Three men that have been the source of controversy today as I turned on the news.  One, being celebrated for his lifestyle.  The other two, fired for their beliefs.  

Michael Sam is the first openly gay college football player that was drafted by the St. Louis Rams in today's last round of the NFL Draft.  He had cameras in his house and was profiled by ESPN as the announcement came through that he was drafted.  Breaking down in tears, he turned and hugged and kissed his boyfriend on national television.  Jason and David Benham are brothers that were recently fired from HGTV for stating their stance against homosexuality, according to their faith, on national television. They were deemed "hateful" by a large group of people.  

After watching Michael Sam on television and what the media had to say about him, I was outraged.  But maybe not for the reasons that you think.  I'm outraged by the underlying sometimes blatant label I'm given.  Sure, I have a strong belief in Jesus Christ and I know that He is my Lord and Savior.  I would be what society labels a "Conservative Christian".

I do not support the act of homosexuality.  In other words: "I'm a hateful bigot". 

I'm sure there are those of you who have already decided to stop reading and have decided to go through with the ultimate act of revenge....de-friending me on Facebook.  All I can ask is that you finish reading.  If you still think I'm a jerk after reading this, I can accept that.  Just don't label me a bigot.  

One of the great things about this country, is that you are free to disagree with others.  But what's becoming more commonplace is the scary opinion that if one disagrees with another, that equates with hatred.  That is simply untrue.  I disagree with a lot of things about others but in my own heart, mind, and actions, that doesn't equal hate.  As a follower of Christ, I'm called to think and believe as He does.  What goes hand in hand with that belief is the call to love whom He loves.  

I'm a firm believer in Pro-Life, yet have close friends that have experienced abortion.  I don't love them any less.  I don't drink or smoke, but don't look down on those that do.   I don't support the gay lifestyle, but here's the most important fact:  That doesn't mean I hate homosexuals.  These kinds of implications leave us skating on dangerously thin ice.  If a simple disagreement of opinions can be considered a hateful crime in this country, we're dangling precariously over a pit of censorship wherein the First Amendment, and our right to freely express our opinions without fear of repercussions, becomes the first casualty.  

We are turning into a country where the First Amendment only works if you believe the same way that the mainstream believes.  We are turning into a country that says "If you disagree with me, than you hate me, and that is wrong.  But I can hate you for disagreeing with me."  From Phil Robertson all the way to the Benham brothers, people are being discriminated against because they disagree with a way a lifestyle that they don't choose to live.  Please let that last sentence sink in a bit.  I'm not talking about the thugs that go out and bash, commit violent acts against, or threaten homosexuals.  I'm talking about a society where I can't simply disagree with something that goes against my faith and my values without being discriminated against.  Hatred is being determined much more by someones opinion than it is by their actions, and that is flat out wrong.  

I'm not here to tell you the exact reasons I don't agree with someones lifestyle or exactly why I believe the way that I do.  That's not the point.  I'm here to tell you that I have an opinion.  A belief.  And that should be allowed.  To turn on the television and see one man praised for making a statement, and another ostracized simply because he disagrees, is not the road this country should be comfortable with traveling down.  

The key here is respect.  I will respect your opinions and your beliefs, regardless of whether I believe in them or not, and love you every second through it.  However, I must ask that you do the same for me.   If we could simply respect each other, and love one another, a lot of these issues would resolve themselves.  

In order to love one another,  we have to be able to look beyond certain behaviors and see each person as an individual.  Step one of that is not to claim that just because someone disagrees with you or your lifestyle, that they have hate against you.  Difference does not equal hate, and until this country understands this, it will be a very slippery slope from here on out.  

I love you all.  

Letter to my Mom

This blog is dedicated to the first woman I've ever loved.  My mom.

With Mother's Day approaching, this week I caught my self reminiscing on what my Mom actually means in my life.  I thought of different ways I could honor Mother's Day.  Send a card?  Flowers?  Chocolates?  I couldn't decide.  Although she'll be getting something from me, I couldn't stop thinking about the impact she has meant in my life.  I thought I would put something in print for her to read anytime she wanted to Google it.  I was thinking of different things I could tell you about her, and different ways I could write about her in this blog, but after countless deletes and re-writes, I couldn't get it straight.  I decided that the best way would be to directly talk to her.  My open letter to my first love.

Dear Mom,

I wanted to write you this letter to thank you for who you are, but where do I begin?

You loved me before anyone else.  You taught me to read, to love, how important manners are, how to wash my own laundry.   You changed me, fed me, bathed me, and you even pulled that GI Joe out of me when I sat on it in the bathtub (I'm sure Dad would have dry-heaved trying to get that soldier to retreat from his covert mission).

To sum it all up:  You love me.

You have loved me at my best and you have loved me at my worst.  As I sit here thinking of examples to give for both my best and my worst, I can only find examples for when you have loved me at my worst.  I think that says so much about you.

Sure, we have had some incredible times together.  Times when I quite honestly took you for granted.  One of my greatest all-time memories is when I was about 9 and we were at Grandma Wyatt's house.  I pretended to fall asleep on the living room floor because I didn't want to brush my teeth before bed.  As I squinted my eyes to make it seem like they were closed, I saw you walking towards me.  I thought that you were going to wake me up to get ready for bed and I was bummed out.  Instead, you knelt down beside me, kissed me on the cheek, and whispered in my ear "Goodnight, Matthew.  I love you."  It is a memory I've held on to and remember each night when I kiss Mikaila goodnight.

The times that stand out to me most are the worst years of my life.  Times where I know that I've broke your heart, but that heart was never broken enough to stop pouring love into me.  The day I snuck out of the house while you were sleeping and woke you up.  The day when I stole money from your purse to get soda from the school.  The day I told you about my addiction.  The days that you visited me in jail.  The day I told you about my relapse.  The day I checked into rehab.  All days that I know broke your heart, but all days that showed me how unconditional your love is for me.  You were there through my recovery, championing me through it, willing me through it, praying me through it, but most of all....loving me through it.

I feel that I don't give you enough credit for who you truly are.  It seems that Dad's get a lot of the attention and respect in a family while Mom's sit back, do all the dirty work, and sometimes become invisible.  I want you to know that you are not invisible.  I love Dad, but you are my hero.

Thank you for the very big shoes you've given others to fill.  There are some days when I think it would be easier if I didn't have such a big legacy, that mediocrity would be a breath of fresh air.  But that's not you, and that's not me because of you.  Thank you for living life full-out, saying things that others are afraid too.  Thank you for your faith, for being a pioneer, and setting the bar so high.  The life that I see in front of me is because of you.  I've been called a mama's boy more than once, and it's a badge I wear with honor.  I'm proud to be the son of such an incredible woman.  You have been, and continue to be, the most perfect mother for me.  Although I haven't had a perfect past, I will honor you by how others see the man I am today

Mom, thank you for making me realize that I'm worth everything in this world.  I'm worth it because of you.  If I could fly to the moon and write your name on it, I would.  Until then, I'll continue loving you to the moon and back.  Over and over.

"Goodnight, Mom.  I love you."

Drop the rock, Jackass

My heart aches.

Last week, I attended a church in a nearby city to meet with a few guys that I've been in counseling with.  I was speaking with them in the lobby, when I heard the doors open behind me.  I turned to look and saw that it was a well-known homeless man that always stops me and begs for change.  I turned to the guys and one of them said to another member of the church: "what is he doing here?"  No one, myself included, stood up for this homeless man. 

Immediately I felt my heart break.  I finished speaking to the guys I was visiting with, got in my car, and drove away.  As I was driving, I was replaying what had happened and not only what was said, but what wasn't said.  I turned the radio off, and just drove in silence.  As I was driving I heard these words in my mind:

"Drop the rock, Jackass."

The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery.  They made her stand before the group and said to Jesus, "Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery.  In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women.  Now what do you say ?"  But Jesus bend down and started to write on the ground with his finger.  When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, "If anyone of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her."  Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.  At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman standing there.  Jesus straightened up and asked her "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?"  "No one, sir." She said.  

"Then neither do I condemn you." Jesus declared. "Go now and sin no more."  (John 8)

Drop the rock.

Jesus exemplifies the heart, soul, the spirit of an advocate.  Notice, in this passage when the Pharisees first start bringing the faults of this woman, he doesn't answer.  That shows to me the spirit of an advocate is slow to speak.  If we're all being honest, I think it's pretty easy to allow the spirit of an accuser seep it's way into our life.  

But if we're all being honest, I think it's easier to become the spirit of the accuser.  We've all had a rock or two in our hands.  It's even easier to say "Oh, not me.  I'm not an accuser.  I'm a champion for others. I root for success."  But our hearts, our attitudes, our spirit says different.  

I've noticed that most accusers have borders they put up, certain people they attack, and certain people they leave be.  We easily throw rocks at those who are outside our walls.  Politicians, athletes, celebrities, homeless, addicted, those different.  Those we don't know.  It's easy to say "I can't believe what they did.  I can't believe how they live.  I can't believe the sin they are involved with."  I've noticed that I've gone straight from being in the dirt with the rocks above my head, to dusting off my pants and grabbing the first stone. 

I hear Christians making fun of the way people look.  The way people come to church dressed.  The way someone speaks, acts, or even the color of their skin.  It's easy to take cheap shots at them, because we don't know them, and don't think they'll ever find out, or we won't ever get to know them.  How can it hurt them if they don't hear what we are saying?  I'm talking about ALL churches. 

Maybe that's the issue.  We don't know them.  They need a Pastor too.  They need a church too.  They need someone to get to know them too.  They need someone to show them the love of Jesus too.  It's no wonder that I hear over and over "I tried church, but I wasn't welcomed."  Or "I tried church and felt judged."  Instead of someone walking into the church and being greeted with a hand of grace, they are walking in to rocks being held in hands and stuffed into pockets.

Is our gospel big enough to welcome everyone into our church?  Are we big enough for politicians, celebrities, athletes, homeless, those addicted, those different?  Are we big enough to say "Come on! This is your family! This is your home!  We'll love you."  

Even the physical posture of Christ displays the message of grace in these verses.  Jesus' posture is down in the dirt, while the religious pompous, arrogant, leaders of the church stand straight in their arrogance with rocks in their hands.  These postures even exemplify the attitude of an advocate and the attitude of an accuser.  The leaders stand so tall and so proud, but the words of Jesus completely level the playing field.  Jesus is saying "Oh pastor, oh bishop, doctor, lawyer, stay-at-home mom, garbage man,.......service tech.  You're the same as this woman! You're no different."

We don't need anymore churches standing in their arrogance with rocks in their hands and filling their pockets.  We need churches who are in the dirt with people that are broken and hurting and need the love of God.  That has to be the church.  We run towards the messes.  We run towards the broken.  We run towards the addicted, the depressed, the shamed.  We don't turn away, we run towards them.  We are there to hold them, to love them, and to defend them, to speak and think well of them.  To believe the best in them.  THAT'S the spirit of the church.  What if every church grabbed a hold of this concept and carried with us the attitude of an advocate.  The attitude of compassion, mercy, grace, and love to these hurting, lost and broken people.  

At the end of this story, Jesus says "I don't bring any accusations.  Now go, and sin no more."

Do you know why?  Because she had just encountered grace, and faith had erupted in her heart.  And now she could finally live the life she had only dreamed of.  How many of us are hampering this same dream of others?  How many churches are killing the faith, the dreams, and hopes of those searching in exactly the place they need to, but are being greeted by stones.  

Grace is what sets us free from sin.  Grace is what keeps us from the stones.  Not law, not legalism, not customs, not traditions, not do's and don'ts, but the grace of God.  Without it, this would be one empty world with a ton of bloody stones.  

Church, put down your rocks, and instead hold open your hand.  Get in the dirt.  We can only be an advocate or an accuser when those doors open to knew seekers of Christ.  Christ got down in the dirt for me, he grabbed my hand, dusted me off, and said "Go and sin no more."

He didn't dust me off just so I could become one of those that were ready to destroy me for my sin.  We are no better than anyone else.  

Drop the rock, church. 

Born This Way

When I was little, I heard a story that has still stuck with me to this day.  Although the details are a little sketchy, the main point of the story is something I still think about. 

There was a lady ready to cook her first pot roast.  She was asking help from her Mom and as they were preparing it, the mom told her to cut both ends off the pot roast before putting it into the pan.  The lady asked her Mom "Why are we doing this?  There is about 3 inches of meat that is being wasted."  The mom thought about this for a minute and said "I don't know, my mom always did it this way."  Both ladies became curious about the orgin of cutting the ends off the pot roast.  After trying to deduct why this happens, they decided to call the Grandma.  "Grandma, why did you teach us to cut off the ends of the pot roast?"   After a bit of laughter from the Grandma, she answered "We never had a pan big enough to fit the roast, so we cut the ends off." 

All this time, valuable meat was wasted.  Why?  Because these ladies never questioned it, and performed the task a certain way because they were taught that way. 

How many things in our life are secondhand to us, because "we were taught this way"? 

For those of you who are close to me, you know that I'm not shy about my love for Jesus Christ.  On a daily basis, I try and talk about how much He means to me and share my testimony with others.  For those of you who really know me, you know that it always hasn't been this way. 

I grew up in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  My Dad was always in a position of leadership in our church while  was growing up.  One thing about my Dad, if you don't know him, is that his faith is strong.  My parents know both the Bible and Book of Mormon very well.  When ever I had a question, I could go to them and they always had an answer.  I never questioned my faith, because that's all I knew.  That's how I was raised.  

When I was 23, my oldest brother and I became very close.  We both lived in a state away from all other family.  By that time, my brother had already committed his life to Christ, and one night he sat down with me and talked about his faith.  I'll never forget the verse that he showed me in the Bible:

“For it is written, As I live, saith the Lord,

every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess to God.

So then every one of us shall give account of himself to God.”

Romans 14:11-12

The last sentence really caught my attention.  Every one of us shall give account of himself to God.   I realized that this whole time, I never had a testimony of my own.  I always lived off the testimony of my parents.  My parents were so strong in their faith, that I just rode their testimony and claimed it as my own.  I will always love and appreciate my brother for showing me this verse. 

My brother planted a seed in my mind.  I had to gain a testimony and belief in Jesus Christ on my own.  I realized that if I was to die today and I was at the feet of Jesus, I couldn't say "I lived this way because I was raised this way". 

I will be honest.  It took me a year and a half of taking apart the entire Bible before I gained a belief of my own.  By far, it was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life and that includes wrecking my life during my addiction.  Why?  Because I had to change my entire way of thinking.  I had to take 23 years of knowledge and sift through it, dig deep and through much prayer, come up with my own testimony. 

I've learned through reading that God will hold you responsible for the knowledge that you have, and the knowledge that you don't have. 

We live in a time of urgency.  We never know when we will be at the feet of Jesus.  But we can prepare.  One of these days we will all have to make an account for our actions, our words, our beliefs.   How well do we know Jesus?

We have to ask ourselves this question:  Do I know about Christ, or do I have a relationship with Him?  No matter how you were raised, whether it be Catholic, Buddhist, Mormon, Christian, or Atheist, we all have to hold an account of our own life.  We won't have our friends, or other members of our church, or our family to fall back on when Jesus holds us personally accountable.   

To gain a testimony of our own doesn't come from just knowing the Bible by heart, or memorizing sermons.  A true testimony comes from the revelation of God.  Get on your knees.  Ask God for guidance and discernment.  Start a dialogue with Him.  Do the only thing He asks of you:  start a relationship with Him.

Move from knowing "about" Jesus, to knowing Jesus. 

Too Messy?

"God could never use me, I'm too messed up."

How many times has this thought crossed your mind?  I know with me, I have thought that a lot.  This is tough for me to admit, but here goes.  My life is a mess.  For as long as I can remember, I knew that there was a God and had a longing to know Him better.  I have wanted to be a godly person, but when I look back on my life what I mostly see is a broken, crooked path littered with mistakes and failure. 

I want to be a good person.  I don't intend to fail.  I want to learn from my mistakes, rid my life of all distractions, and run into the arms of Jesus.  Yet most of the time, I feel like I am running 100 mph in the wrong direction.  Running away from Jesus and into the arms of my own life.  My own mess. 

My dreams seem like they should have me tagging along behind Jesus, wanting and needing for him to choose me as one of his disciples.  Without warning, he turns around, looks straight into my eyes, and says "Follow me."  My heart drops as I start to run after him, then he stops me and says "Oh, not you.  I was talking to the guy behind you."

Based on what I just said, how could I be a Youth Pastor?  How can someone whose life seems so unspiritual, talk to others about following Christ?  How can God use someone with so many faults to lead others to Him?  I constantly read about all these spiritual, perfect people in the Bible.  Oh wait....

Let's take a closer look at the Bible.  It's pages overflow with messy people.  Take Noah for example.  God called on this man to carry on the existence of the world.  Yet, everyone thought he was crazy.  He probably was a little strange, but he was also courageous, a man of great faith, and had a very strong will.  Against the unrelenting ridicule of all those around him, Noah built a huge boat in the middle of desert because God told him to.  The rains came, the flood happened, and after the water receded, Noah triumphantly left the boat.....and got drunk and got naked.   Noah was the model of great faith, but also had a losing battle with wine.  Yet, he is listed in the Hall of Faith in Hebrews. 

David was also a brilliant, God-loving, courageous, loyal man.  The same David that conquered Goliath was the same David that took another man's wife, impregnated her and then had her husband killed.  Yet, this is the same David that God called "a man after my own heart". 

Turns out all of the biblical characters were a complex mix of strengths and weaknesses that failed to reach perfection.  All but one.  Let's take a look at Him. 

The only people that Jesus hung out with were seemingly perfect people who had their lives together, right?  No.  Jesus hung out with prostitutes, tax collectors, adulterers, mental cases, and losers of all kinds.  You might say Christianity has a tradition of messy spirituality.  Messy prophets, messy kings, messy disciples, messy apostles.  Guess what?  We are no different. 

God doesn't want us to get our lives together before coming to Him.  So many people think that God can't use them, or they are too broken for God.  "If only I could become a better person, then God would accept me."  All God uses are messy people.  Why are we any different?  I have breaking news.  Get ready for this.......  No one is perfect.  There was only one perfect person to ever walk this earth, and He died for your messy life.  He knew that you can't keep your life clean, so He gave his life instead. 

Spirituality is not a test, it's not a formula.  It's a relationship.  Spirituality is not about competency, it's about intimacy.  Most importantly, spirituality is NOT about perfection, it's about connection.  Connection with Jesus. 

Let go of seeking perfection and trying to become better before coming to Christ.  Let go of getting down on yourself because of your imperfections.  Stop trying to fix yourself.  Spirituality is not about being fixed, it's about God being present in our life despite our imperfections. 

When we come to terms with our messy life and realize that God can use us, and wants to use us despite of our mess, that's when the real fun begins.   That's when the real Jesus meets the real us. 

Beauty or Beast?

"How do I look?"

If you are breathing, I can guarantee you have been asked this question at least 7 times this week.  If you are a man, asked by your wife or girlfriend, you have to be very careful how you answer this question.   The best technique is to form an honest, sincere answer while collapsing with either a seizure or made-up illness.  Why?  Because we will never come up with the right answer.

The problem is that women don't usually think of their looks the same way that a lot of men do.  Most men see their looks in high school, and stick with that thought the rest of their lives.  Some see themselves as irresistible studs that any woman would be lucky to have, even if their faces sag, their noses grow to the size of Squidward, and their eyebrows are so tightly knitted that they would need divorce papers to be separated.  Some see themselves as nothing but ugly, disgusting and a wart to society. 

I believe most men think of themselves as average.  Even if their flawless faces emit stares of all women and most men, or if they are sometimes blamed for causing heart failure in small animals.  Being average doesn't bother most men, so they usually don't ask how they look.  Our primary form of beauty care is a quick shave, hoping they washed all the blood and shaving cream off, and then head out.  We give our lawn more attention then we give our looks. 

Women are different.  Out of the three youth groups I run, I have 99% girls.  In my home, I have a wife and daughter, and two cats....all females.  I also have around 30 guppies in a fish tank out of which I believe 29 are girls.  Why?  Because they keep having more babies.  I am surrounded by the X chromosome, and if I had to express, in three words, what I believe most women think about their appearance, those words would be: ''not good enough.'' No matter how attractive a woman may appear to be to others, when she looks at herself in the mirror, she thinks: eh.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not trying to tear apart or make fun of women.  Please let me finish.

I grew up with G.I. Joe's.  Most girls grew up with Barbie, or another perfectly made doll.  Barbie was some sort of genetic mutation that if she was the size of a human, she would be 6'9 weighing all of 93 lbs.  My G.I. Joe was extremely self-confident and I never pictured him saying "Does my butt look big in this camo?"  But some girls grow up thinking that they need to look like Barbie. There is a multi-billion dollar industry devoted to convincing women that they are not good enough and they need to look better.  Cindy Crawford, Elle McPherson, and most of television push women to look a certain way.  Some men, even though they are as shallow as a puddle of spit, push their women to look a certain way even though it is impossible without a scalpel and surgeon.  These women are constantly searching to better themselves. 

Don't buy these lies.

If I could talk to all these women, I would tell them ALL the same thing:  There could never be a more beautiful you.

Genesis 1:27 says: So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.

The same God that made the beautiful sunrise, made you.
The same God that created the waterfalls, the sunsets, the starry nights....made you.
You know the best news?  You are His favorite.  Out of everything He has ever created, you are His prize possession. 

Although we don't act perfect, our image is perfect because we were made in the image of a perfect God.  Self-confidence is a tough thing to grasp sometimes.  It's easier to grasp if we get to know this perfect God, and see the love He has for us. 

Right now, God is looking down on you.  He sees your image as perfect.  I can picture Him looking down on some of us and thinking "Why do you want so badly to change?  Why do you 'need' that new product or the next surgery? Why can't you see yourself the way I see you?"

If we had all God's eyes, this world would change.  Many businesses would shut down.  Many actors or models would be out of work.  If we all had God's eyes, we would walk around, look at each other and say:

There could never be a more beautiful you.