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the hardest thing you'll ever do  E-mail
Lisa Flaum | 15 August 2013
In our journey as a community, we wanted to come against performance and striving to be righteous. So we ran into the notion that we are perfectly perfect.

Completely made righteous perfect. Perfection.

Declaring that over ourselves and everything we do. No space for darkness. But does it leave room for our mess. For dead bunnies and illnesses that don’t get healed? For lies and deception, cravings and brokenness? Wounds to the heart? Loss?

There was no room for mess in performance, but it seems there is no room for mess in perfectly made perfect either.

No mess fits here either.

So we tried to believe that we are perfect even harder. Perfect believing. Just look at your reflection, look at who you really are and gaze upon your perfection…

Does perfect believing make us righteous?
No.
Does perfect believing stop the mess?
No.
Does believing that I am perfect make me perfect?
No.

There is no stopping the mess. Only owning it, cleaning it up when it spills over and hopefully evolving from the clarity of a story owned.

A mess acknowledged.

A community where mess is not judged or shamed brings safety. Where love covers over a multitude of sins, we are able to walk in vulnerability, carry and embrace each other’s mess, thereby opening the way for healing and real wholeness.

I am not saying now that I am a dirty sinner.

No, I am the righteousness of God. I am made complete. I am made perfect for intimacy with Him. I have not become perfection, but now I can house it.

Its God’s gift to me by the blood of His son. I receive this beautiful gift and the veil is torn.

I receive intimacy with Him in my mess, because righteousness does not always look like perfection.

Not on this side of immortality.

What I believe about myself follows in action. I believe that I am the righteousness of God.

Without separation from my creator,

EVER.

Always able to be in his presence, gloriously and unconditionally loved.

Fathered through my mess, disciplined in my mess, held in my mess.

I don’t believe I am perfection.

My emotions and ability to choose make me messy.
A righteous mess, I am welcomed into His presence.

I read out the following on Sunday as a declaration to my commitment to remaining vulnerable and open to love and trying again and again and again in the face of my own and other’s mess.  By popular demand here it is again for everyone to read. I did not write it but the resonance is deep.

Love is messy.
With gratitude to Lissa the author.



The Hardest Thing You’ll Ever Do
The hardest thing you’ll ever do is keep your heart open in the face of serial heartbreak.  Closing off your heart is the easy way out. It’s an understandable defence mechanism. It makes sense. Nobody would blame you.

But it will also make you sick and suck away your joie de vivre.

Life is full of traumas to the heart. Pain is inevitable because love is everywhere, and love hurts. Period.

Love is scary. Love is risky. Love is unsafe. Love isn’t for the faint of heart. Love takes courage. Love and fear can’t coexist. Love means giving people permission to break your heart - over and over and over.

Every day is a lesson in this most important life class.  Every day is a choice to keep your heart open, even when you feel it slamming shut. Every day is an opportunity to practice the art of letting your heart bleed, to cry, to feel, to ache, to gulp, to let go of your ego, to recognize that being right is overrated, to stop judging, to learn the art of forgiveness, to lay bare your soul, even when it doesn’t feel safe, to keep doing it over and over and over again until it’s like breathing.

Every day, love is a choice, and it’s yours to make.


What are you choosing?


With a cracked wide open heart,