Accept

Accept: To receive something offered willingly — to accept as a gift. To be able or designed to take hold of something applied or added — a surface that will not accept ink. To give admittance or approval — an idea that is widely accepted. To recognize as true: believe.

While I am no Bible scholar, I know enough of the promises and truths found in Scripture to speak with confidence. I can pray and speak into the lives of my family, friends, and even strangers—offering hope, encouragement, comfort, and peace, all rooted in God's promises and His truth about who they are. I've served as a mentor both professionally and personally, and with my entire being, I believe every word I speak and every prayer I lift up.

So why do I struggle to accept those very same truths for myself?

Why do I battle thoughts like "I'm not good enough," "I'm not pretty enough," or the nagging feeling that "I don't belong" and "I don't fit in"? Why do I wrestle with "I don't make enough money" or believe that "I'm failing as a mother"?

Honestly, the list could go on. But I think I've been transparent enough that you understand the pattern. For some reason, I've excluded myself from the equation of God's truths and promises—as if He extended His gifts to everyone else except me.

Except: To take or leave out from a number or a whole: exclude. To take exception: object.

Here's what I've come to realize: knowing something intellectually doesn't mean you accept it for yourself. Accepting is so beautifully simple that I've made it impossibly hard. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that I had to earn it—that I needed to do some kind of work or reach a level of perfection to be worthy of God's gifts and truths. But that's so far from the truth.

God's gifts are just that—gifts He has chosen to give freely. They're not something I have to qualify for. They're simply something I'm called to accept.

I've been working with a counselor, and she shared an example that completely shifted my perspective. She asked me, "If a king has a son, who will be the next king?" The answer was obvious: the son. Then she asked, "What does the son have to do to become king?" I said, "Nothing. He becomes king because he's the king's firstborn son."

And that's when it clicked.

She said, "Cassandra, God's gifts and His promises are there for you to accept just as the son simply accepts and steps into his role as king. He can't do anything more to make himself worthy of being king. It simply is."

There are just some things that are.

So here I am, accepting:

I, Cassandra, am known and chosen to exist at this time in history.

"Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee..." Jeremiah 1:5

"For thou hast possessed my reins; thou hast covered me in my mother's womb." Psalm 139:13

I, Cassandra, am valuable and precious.

"...for her price is far above rubies." Proverbs 31:10

I, Cassandra, am powerful and equipped.

"For God hath not given us a spirit of fear; but of power, and of love and of a sound mind." 2 Timothy 1:7

I, Cassandra, am forgiven.

"There is no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus who walk not after the flesh, but after the spirit." Romans 8:1

My prayer: Forgive me, Father, my God, for not accepting your gifts to me. But thank you for being so patient with me and continually loving me so graciously, drawing me to where you always want me—right with you. My heart is yours. There truly is nothing like you. I am so grateful for how you are gently and kindly showing me this truth. Amen.

If you struggle with accepting too, I hope you're encouraged knowing that sometimes the power is in simply accepting what is.

Love,
Cassandra