Why “Almost” is a Lie

Newton Left Long Time Ago/Creative Commons

I didn’t always “play full out.” I liked to live life in my comfort zone and I didn’t want anything to upset the apple cart.

An example:

I asked Jesus into my heart and accepted Him as my personal Lord and Savior at the tender age of nine, and for a time, I almost burst with newfound joy.

I shared Jesus with my friends. I asked my classmates if they knew Him. I prayed about things that mattered: bicycles, boys, clothes, and grades.

As I grew in my faith, I connected with Christ at a deeper level, and my time spent with Him became more intimate.

Instead of always asking for something during my prayer time, I began to talk to Him in a way I never had before.

I thought of our solitude together more as conversations. I experienced catch-my-breath-moments where I felt the bright light of His presence fall upon me, fill me, and assure me of His love.

However, as with all things shiny and new, the pot-of-gold dulled. The newness wore off.

I was a “P.K.” (preacher’s kid) so I still went to church. I said and did all the right things. I worshipped, prayed, and praised Him because I believed, but I no longer felt the same exuberance I had during the threshold of adolescence.

I didn’t play full out.

I didn’t move forward.

I remained a “baby Christian” for the next 10 years or so until my mid 20’s. Until I recommitted my life to Christ, and I determined to ditch the lie of my youth–the lie of almost.

You know the one.

I almost feel worthy.

I almost know I’ll succeed.

I almost believe I’m beautiful.

I kicked that lie to the curb.

One night on my knees, I cried out to Jesus and asked Him to take my marginal efforts–all the pitiful attempts I’d made in the past to live for Him–and wipe the slate clean.

It didn’t happen overnight. After years spent in the desert, I still had a lot of growing and sowing to do, but I pressed on.

Fast forward to now, many years later.

I’ve had a lot of epiphanies during this decades-long journey. I’ve been stretched and seasoned in more wonderful (and some not so wonderful) ways than I could have imagined.

The really awesome thing?

Photo Credit: Ian D/Creative Commons

Somewhere along the way, I realized I was no longer a slave to half-baked thinking.

I’ve moved beyond that boundary.

I’ve matured.

I’ve developed a miracle mindset!

I may be hesitant of the unknown. I might still have questions. I may even rail at God during times of testing. But because I’ve matured as a believer, I understand this is normal. It’s a part of real life.