The more I get to know the Savior, the more amazed I am by how incredibly gentle He is with me. Far gentler than I am with myself, that’s for sure!
Sometimes I forget, when listening to the screaming of my own perfectionism, that God’s voice doesn’t sound like that at all. He loves me even when I fall short. That’s kind of the whole point of the gospel, right? “While we were yet sinners.”
And yes, He still wants to me to change and grow and repent and mature. But not because He’s a frustrated perfectionist. No. It’s because He’s a loving Father who wants what’s best for me. I wrote this poem recently, when I found myself once again amazed by the gentleness of God…
The Savior’s voice is
so much gentler
than mine
When I see failings
in myself
I rail
and scold
Enraged that I
could miss perfection and
fall short
I just assume His voice
will somehow
sound
as cold
As if He stands there waiting
for me to
perform
Then marks down every
time I fail
and keeps
a list
I shrink back grasping
broken things He wants
to heal
A frightened child
clutching
glass shards
in my fist
But then His whisper
woos me softly from
my fear
No scolding shout
no disappointed
glare
or frown
Just “Child, that thing you hold
hurts me
by hurting you
So won’t you take
my hand
instead
and put it down?”