Have you ever felt like you’re too far gone for God to love you?
Maybe you’ve heard harsh words from Christians who said you weren’t “Christian enough.” Maybe you’ve been told that who you are – your past, your mistakes, your struggles, even your identity – makes you unworthy of His love.
Maybe you’ve been told that because of who you love, you have to choose between your identity and your faith. That you need conversion therapy. That you should just leave the church. That God could never accept you as you are.
Maybe you’ve walked away from church because the judgment felt heavier than the grace. Maybe you’ve stopped praying because you thought God stopped listening.
Maybe you’ve believed the lie that you have to clean yourself up, fix yourself, change everything about who you are before you can come to God.
And so you’ve stayed away. Kept your distance. Convinced yourself that Jesus is for everyone else – just not for you.
But what if I told you that’s not true? What if I told you that the very thing you think disqualifies you is exactly why Jesus came?
What if the brokenness you’re hiding is the exact place He wants to meet you?
What if you don’t have to change a single thing before you come to Him – because He’s the One who does the changing?
If that’s you – if you’ve ever felt too broken, too dirty, too far gone, too different, too unworthy – I want you to hear me clearly today:
You are not too far gone. You are not disqualified. And Jesus still wants you.
Today, we’re talking about something close to my heart – how Jesus welcomes everyone, especially the ones who feel rejected, overlooked, or unworthy.
The ones the world – and sometimes the church – has pushed away.
Because friend, if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s this: Jesus didn’t come for the people who had it all together. He came for the mess. For the broken. For the ones who thought they were beyond repair.
He came for you.
This isn’t about rules. It’s about relationship.
Because Jesus didn’t come to condemn us. He came to rescue us.
And maybe you’ve been told you need to change before you come to Him. Maybe someone told you that you have to stop sinning first, clean up your act first, become “good enough” first.
But the truth?
You come to Him first – and He is the One who changes you.
I know some of you listening right now have been wounded by the church. By people who claimed to represent Jesus but made you feel small, judged, or rejected.
Maybe you were pushed toward harmful “conversion” practices. Maybe you were told your identity disqualifies you from God’s love. Maybe you left because staying felt unbearable.
And I’m so sorry for that. That’s not Jesus. That’s hurt people hurting people.
But I want you to know: Jesus is not like them. He never was.
And today, I hope you’ll let me show you who He really is.
Before we dive in, I want to let you know that you can find the full written version of this episode at thegracefulgrowth.com. I always post the complete script there, so if something hits home and you want to come back to it, it’s waiting for you.
Alright. Let’s get into this.
SECTION 1: THE HEART OF JESUS FOR THE OUTCAST
If you read the Gospels – Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John – you’ll notice something really interesting about Jesus.
He consistently went toward the people others avoided.
He ate with sinners. He touched the untouchable. He defended the condemned. He welcomed the rejected.
And the religious leaders? They hated Him for it.
They couldn’t understand why the Son of God would associate with “those people.” The broken. The messy. The ones society had written off.
But that’s exactly who Jesus came for.
Let me give you a few examples.
Luke 19: Zacchaeus, the Tax Collector
Zacchaeus was despised. He was a tax collector – which meant he worked for the Roman oppressors and got rich by overcharging his own people. He was a traitor. A thief. Someone no one wanted anything to do with.
But one day, Jesus was passing through town. Zacchaeus, being short, climbed a tree just to get a glimpse of Him.
And what did Jesus do?
He stopped. Looked up. And said, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.”
Notice what Jesus didn’t say. He didn’t say, “Zacchaeus, you need to give back all the money you stole first, then we’ll talk.” He didn’t say, “Clean up your life, and maybe I’ll consider visiting you.”
He said, “I must stay at your house today.”
Zacchaeus didn’t have to fix himself first. Jesus met him where he was – and that love transformed him.
After spending time with Jesus, Zacchaeus stood up and said, “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”
That’s what happens when you encounter the love of Jesus. Not condemnation. Not shame. Just love that changes you from the inside out.
John 4: The Woman at the Well
Then there’s the Samaritan woman at the well.
She had three strikes against her in that culture:
- She was a woman – women weren’t considered equal and weren’t typically taught by rabbis.
- She was a Samaritan – a group the Jews despised and avoided.
- She had a complicated past – she’d been married five times and was currently living with a man she wasn’t married to.
She came to draw water in the middle of the day – likely to avoid the other women who would’ve judged and gossiped about her.
And that’s when she met Jesus.
He didn’t shame her. He didn’t lecture her. He simply asked her for a drink of water – which, by the way, was scandalous. Jewish men didn’t speak to Samaritan women. Ever.
But Jesus did.
And then He offered her something she didn’t even know she needed: living water. A relationship with God that would satisfy the deepest thirst of her soul.
She didn’t have to confess all her sins before He spoke to her. He offered her grace before she even asked for it.
And after that encounter? She ran back to her town – the same town she’d been hiding from – and told everyone, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?”
One encounter with Jesus turned her from hiding in shame to boldly proclaiming His love.
Mark 2:17: Jesus’ Mission Statement
And then there’s this verse that I think sums it all up.
The Pharisees – the religious leaders – were criticizing Jesus for eating with tax collectors and sinners. They couldn’t believe He would associate with “those people.”
And Jesus said this:
“It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”
That means He came for the broken. For the hurting. For those who think they’re beyond repair.
He didn’t come for the people who had it all together – or thought they did. He came for the ones who knew they were a mess and desperately needed help.
And I think about the LGBTQ+ community today. How many have been told they’re not welcome in the church. How many have heard, “God loves you, but…” How many have been pushed toward conversion therapy or told to deny who they are.
And I wonder: Is that what Jesus would have done? Or would He have invited them to dinner, listened to their story, and loved them right where they were?
So if you’ve been told that Jesus doesn’t want you because of your sexuality, your addiction, your past, your doubts, your mistakes – I’m here to tell you that’s not the Jesus of the Bible.
That’s religion. That’s judgment. That’s people putting up walls that Jesus never built.
The real Jesus? He’s standing with open arms saying, “Come. Just as you are. I’ve been waiting for you.”
SECTION 2: WHY SO MANY FEEL UNWORTHY
So if Jesus is so welcoming, so loving, so accepting – why do so many people feel unworthy of His love?
Why do so many people walk away from faith convinced that God could never love them?
Sadly, I think a lot of it comes down to this: Religion can sometimes hurt more than it helps.
When people lead with judgment instead of love, they put barriers between others and God.
When churches focus more on rules than relationship, they push people away instead of drawing them in.
When Christians use the Bible as a weapon instead of a guide, they wound the very people Jesus came to heal.
I’ve seen it. I’ve witnessed it firsthand. And maybe you have too.
Maybe you grew up in a church where you were taught that God was angry, distant, waiting for you to mess up so He could punish you.
Maybe you were told that certain sins were unforgivable, that certain people were beyond saving, that certain identities were incompatible with faith.
Maybe you made a mistake – or a series of mistakes – and instead of being met with grace, you were met with shame and rejection.
Maybe you were told you weren’t welcome unless you looked a certain way, believed a certain way, voted a certain way, loved a certain way.
And so you left. Because it felt safer to be away from God than to keep trying to measure up to impossible standards.
But here’s what I need you to hear: That’s not God. That’s not Jesus.
That’s broken people misrepresenting a perfect Savior.
And I’m so sorry if that’s been your experience. Because you deserved better. You deserved to be met with the same grace and love that Jesus showed to every broken person He encountered.
The Bible tells us in Romans 8:38-39:
“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Nothing means nothing.
Not death. Not life. Not angels or demons. Not your past or your future. Not your mistakes or your doubts.
Not who you love. Not what you’ve done. Not what others have said about you.
Nothing can separate you from the love of God.
- You may have been wounded by people, but you have never been rejected by Jesus.
- You may have been told you don’t belong, but Jesus says you do.
- You may feel too far gone, but in His eyes, you’ve never been out of reach.
He doesn’t say, “Change, then come to Me.”
He says, “Come to Me, and I’ll change your heart from the inside out.”
So if you’ve been carrying shame, guilt, or the belief that you’re unworthy – can I just say this?
Those feelings are real. But they’re not true.
Your feelings are valid. But they don’t define your worth.
God’s love for you is not based on your performance. It’s based on His character.
And His character is unchanging, unconditional, unending love.
SECTION 3: WHEN THE CHURCH SAYS “YOU’RE NOT WELCOME HERE”
I want to pause here and talk about something specific. Something that I know has caused deep, deep pain for so many people.
And that’s the message that certain groups of people have heard – sometimes explicitly, sometimes in whispered conversations, sometimes through cold silence – from the church:
“You’re not welcome here. Not as you are.”
Maybe you’re struggling with addiction, and you’ve been told you can’t come to church until you’re clean and sober.
Maybe you have a criminal record, and you’ve felt the judgment in people’s eyes when they find out about your past.
Maybe you’re LGBTQ+, and you’ve been told you have to choose between your identity and your faith.
Maybe you’re divorced, and suddenly you’re no longer welcome to serve or teach.
Maybe you’re living with mental illness, and people have told you it’s just a lack of faith.
Maybe you’re poor, and the church’s message felt more about what you could give than who you are.
Maybe your life just doesn’t look “Christian enough” – whatever that means – and you’ve gotten the message loud and clear: “Come back when you’re fixed.”
And here’s what breaks my heart: I’ve watched these messages drive people away from Jesus. Not toward Him – away from Him.
I’ve seen people who genuinely loved God, who wanted to follow Him, who were desperately seeking truth – get told that they had to clean themselves up first.
- Get sober first, then come to church.
- Get your life together first, then we’ll talk about Jesus.
- Stop sinning first, then you can be part of this community.
And when they couldn’t do it on their own – because who can? – they believed the lie that God had given up on them too.
So they walked away. Some toward other things that promised acceptance – substances, relationships, pursuits that numbed the pain. Some just… nowhere. Alone. Hurting. Convinced that if the church doesn’t want them, God must not want them either.
And friend, if that’s you – if that’s your story – I am so, so sorry.
Because what you were given wasn’t an invitation. It was a barrier.
You weren’t offered grace. You were handed a checklist.
You weren’t welcomed into a community that would walk with you through the mess. You were told to clean up the mess before you could even walk through the door.
So I want to say something that I wish someone had said to you a long time ago:
You don’t have to have it all together before you come to Jesus.
You don’t have to be sober first. You don’t have to have a clean record. You don’t have to have your life figured out. You don’t have to fit into someone else’s definition of “acceptable.”
You just have to come. And then you get to walk with Him – not away from Him.
Because here’s what I’ve noticed: The people Jesus spent the most time with? They were the ones society said didn’t belong.
- The tax collectors – traitors and thieves.
- The prostitutes – the sexually broken and exploited.
- The lepers – the sick and isolated.
- The demon-possessed – those struggling with forces they couldn’t control.
- The Samaritans – the “wrong” ethnicity, the “wrong” theology.
- The sinners – everyone the religious leaders avoided.
And Jesus didn’t say, “Get clean first, then I’ll spend time with you.”
He said, “Come. Sit with Me. Let Me show you who you really are.”
I think about the woman caught in adultery. The religious leaders dragged her into the street, ready to stone her for her sin.
And Jesus? He didn’t condemn her. He didn’t lecture her. He didn’t tell her to prove she’d changed.
He simply said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.”
Notice the order. Grace first. Then transformation.
Not “Stop sinning, then I’ll offer you grace.” But “You’re forgiven. Now, let’s walk forward together.”
So here’s what I want to say to you – whoever you are, whatever you’ve done, whatever struggle you’re carrying:
You are not disqualified.
Your addiction doesn’t disqualify you. Your criminal record doesn’t disqualify you. Your sexuality doesn’t disqualify you. Your mental illness doesn’t disqualify you. Your divorce doesn’t disqualify you. Your bankruptcy doesn’t disqualify you. Your mistakes – no matter how big – don’t disqualify you.
Now, does that mean there won’t be hard conversations? That there won’t be wrestling with what it means to follow Jesus in your specific situation? That transformation won’t be required?
No. Of course not. That’s part of discipleship for all of us. We all have areas where we have to ask, “God, what does obedience look like here? What are You asking of me?”
But here’s the difference: That conversation happens with God, not away from Him.
The church has often presented this as an either/or:
Either get clean and then we’ll welcome you, or stay away.
Either fix yourself and then you can serve, or leave.
Either become “acceptable” and then you belong, or you’re on your own.
But what if there’s another way?
What if the invitation is: Come to Jesus. Bring your whole self. Your addiction. Your record. Your questions. Your brokenness. Your shame. And let Him walk with you.
Not to immediately fix you into what the church thinks you should be. But to show you who He is. To reveal His love. To let you experience grace that’s not conditional on having it all figured out.
Romans 2:4 says, “God’s kindness is intended to lead you to repentance.”
Not His rejection. Not His conditions. Not His ultimatums.
His kindness.
That word “repentance” doesn’t mean groveling or self-hatred or trying to become perfect on your own. It means a change of mind. A turning toward God.
And that turning? It starts with experiencing His kindness. Not His condemnation.
I’ve watched people get told they had to achieve sobriety before they could come to church. And when they relapsed – because addiction is hard and recovery isn’t linear – they believed God was disappointed in them. Ashamed of them. Done with them.
I’ve watched people with criminal records try to find a church that would accept them, only to be told they couldn’t serve, couldn’t volunteer, couldn’t be trusted because of their past.
I’ve watched divorced people be removed from leadership and made to feel like second-class Christians because their marriage didn’t survive.
I’ve watched people struggling with mental illness be told to just pray harder, have more faith, believe more – as if their very real pain was just a spiritual failing.
And in every case, the message was the same: You’re not good enough yet. Come back when you are.
But friend, that’s not Jesus. That’s not the Gospel.
Jesus said, “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
- He didn’t say, “Come to Me when you’re no longer weary.”
- He didn’t say, “Come to Me when you’ve fixed everything.”
- He said, “Come to Me now. Bring the burden. Let Me carry it with you.”
Now, I also want to acknowledge: There are communities that have swung to the other extreme. Communities that say, “There’s no sin to address. There’s no growth required. Just do whatever feels right.”
And I understand why people are drawn to that. After being wounded by condemnation and rejection, total acceptance with no expectations feels like relief.
But I wonder if there’s a third way. A way that says:
“You’re welcome here. Fully. Completely. Right now. And we’ll walk with you as you figure out what faithfulness looks like in your life. We won’t demand you fix yourself before you belong. And we won’t pretend transformation isn’t part of the journey. We’ll just do the journey together – with love, with grace, with Jesus at the center.”
Because here’s what I know: Transformation doesn’t happen through shame. It happens through love.
I’ve seen addicts find freedom – not because someone shamed them into sobriety, but because they encountered a love so powerful it made them want to be free.
I’ve seen people with criminal pasts become some of the most compassionate, grace-filled leaders – not because the church gave them a checklist, but because someone believed in them when no one else would.
I’ve seen broken people become whole – not because they were forced to change, but because they were loved in the middle of their mess and that love healed them from the inside out.
So if you’re listening and you’ve been told you’re not welcome – whether because of your addiction, your past, your identity, your mental health, your financial situation, your divorce, or anything else –
I want to tell you: You don’t have to have it all together before you come to Jesus.
You can come with your addiction. With your record. With your questions. With your mess. With your shame.
You can say, “God, I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know if I even can. I don’t know what You’re asking of me. But I’m here. I’m showing up. Will You meet me?”
And I believe – I truly believe – He will.
Not with a checklist of things you need to fix first. Not with judgment. Not with shame.
But with love. Deep, patient, transformative love.
And that love? That’s the starting point. Everything else is between you and Him.
You are not a project to be fixed. You’re a person to be loved.
And Jesus – the real Jesus, not the version the church sometimes presents – He sees you. He knows you. And He’s inviting you to come.
Just as you are.
SECTION 4: YOU DON’T HAVE TO CHANGE TO BE LOVED
This is the part many people get wrong – and where grace becomes radical.
You don’t have to change to be loved by God.
But when you receive His love, it will begin to change you – not out of fear or guilt, but out of healing.
That’s the difference between religion and relationship.
Religion says: “Earn it. Prove it. Work for it.”
Jesus says: “Receive it. Rest in it. Let it transform you.”
Think about the prodigal son in Luke 15.
This is one of my favorite stories because it so perfectly captures the heart of God.
The younger son takes his inheritance early – which, in that culture, was basically saying, “Dad, I wish you were dead.” He leaves home, goes to a distant country, and wastes everything on wild living.
Eventually, he ends up broke, desperate, feeding pigs – which, for a Jewish boy, was about as low as you could go.
And in that moment of desperation, he decides to go home. Not because he thinks he deserves it, but because he has nowhere else to go.
He rehearses his speech: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.”
But here’s what happens.
The father sees him from a distance. And before the son can even get close, before he can deliver his rehearsed apology, the father runs to him.
In that culture, dignified men didn’t run. But this father did.
He runs to his son. He throws his arms around him. He kisses him.
And before the son can finish his apology, the father calls for the best robe, a ring for his finger, sandals for his feet. He throws a party.
He doesn’t say, “Clean yourself up first.” He doesn’t say, “Prove you’ve changed.” He doesn’t say, “Earn your way back.”
He just says, “Welcome home.”
That’s God’s heart toward you.
You don’t have to clean yourself up before you come home. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t have to prove you’ve changed.
You just have to come.
And He’ll meet you right where you are – dirty, broke, ashamed, broken – and He’ll say, “Welcome home.”
And here’s what I love about that father running toward his son: He didn’t ask questions first. He didn’t say, “Tell me where you’ve been. Tell me what you’ve done. Tell me if you’re really ready to change.”
He just ran. Arms open. Love first.
That’s God’s heart toward you. Whether your struggle is addiction, whether it’s your past, whether it’s your sexuality, whether it’s your doubt – He’s not standing at a distance waiting for you to prove yourself.
He’s running toward you. Right now. Just as you are.
I think sometimes we believe that God is like the older brother in that story – the one who stayed home, did everything right, and was angry when the father celebrated the prodigal’s return.
We think God is keeping score. Waiting for us to mess up. Reluctant to forgive.
But that’s not the father in the story. And that’s not God.
God is the one running toward you. Celebrating your return. Lavishing you with love you don’t deserve but He freely gives.
2 Corinthians 5:17 says:
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”
Notice the order. You become new after coming to Him, not before.
You don’t transform yourself and then come to Jesus. You come to Jesus, and He transforms you.
And that transformation? It doesn’t happen through shame or guilt or trying harder.
It happens through love. Through relationship. Through encountering a God who sees all of you – the good, the bad, the ugly – and says, “I still choose you.”
That kind of love changes everything.
Not because you’re trying to earn it. But because you’ve finally received it.
SECTION 5: WHAT “COMING AS YOU ARE” LOOKS LIKE
So what does it actually look like to “come as you are”?
Because I know for some of you, that phrase sounds nice, but you’re not sure what it means practically.
Coming to Jesus doesn’t mean pretending to be someone you’re not.
It doesn’t mean hiding your struggles or putting on a mask or faking perfection.
It simply means being honest.
Here’s what that looks like:
1. Tell Him the truth about where you’re at.
You don’t have to clean up your language or sanitize your feelings. God already knows. He’s not shocked by your honesty.
If you’re angry, tell Him you’re angry. If you’re confused, tell Him you’re confused. If you’re hurt by the church, tell Him you’re hurt.
He can handle it. In fact, He’s been waiting for you to be real with Him.
2. Ask Him to show you His love.
Sometimes we need to experience God’s love, not just hear about it.
So pray a simple prayer: “God, if You really love me, show me. Help me feel it. Help me believe it.”
And then pay attention. He might show you through a song, a conversation, a moment of unexpected peace, a thought that pops into your mind, or a person who shows up at just the right time.
3. Invite Him into the mess.
Don’t wait until you have it all together. Invite Him into the habits you can’t break, the pain you can’t shake, the confusion you can’t figure out.
Let Him into the messy middle. Because that’s where transformation happens.
Maybe you’re not sure how to reconcile your identity with your faith. Maybe you’ve been told you have to choose. And maybe that feels impossible.
So start here: “God, I don’t understand. I don’t know how this works. I don’t know if I can be both gay and Christian. But I’m here. I’m showing up. Will You show me who You are?”
That’s enough. That prayer – that honest, vulnerable, “I don’t have this figured out” – that’s the prayer He’s been waiting for.
4. Trust that He will begin to work in ways you can’t.
You don’t have to have a plan. You don’t have to know how everything will change.
You just have to trust that when you open your heart to Him, He starts working – quietly, gently, powerfully – in ways you never could on your own.
I know this feels vulnerable. I know it’s scary to let God in when you’ve spent so long keeping Him at a distance.
But friend, He’s not going to hurt you. He’s not going to shame you. He’s not going to reject you.
He’s going to love you. And that love is going to heal places in your heart you didn’t even know were broken.
So take the risk. Come as you are. Let Him meet you there.
SECTION 6: THE CHURCH’S CALL – NOT TO JUDGE, BUT TO LOVE
Alright, this part is for us as believers. For those of us who already know Jesus and claim to follow Him.
If we’re going to represent Jesus well, we have to love like Him.
And that means no one – no one – should ever feel too dirty, too different, or too broken to walk into a church, listen to a podcast, or bow their head and pray.
Jesus said in John 13:35:
“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
Not if you agree on everything. Not if you fit a mold. Not if you all vote the same way or look the same way or believe the exact same things about every issue.
But if you love.
And love doesn’t mean we compromise truth. But it does mean we lead with grace.
It means we meet people where they are, not where we think they should be.
It means we invite people into relationship with Jesus and trust Him to do the transforming – because that’s His job, not ours.
And church, we have to do better. We have to stop using theology as a weapon. We have to stop making people choose between their identity and their faith.
We can hold different theological views and still love well. We can wrestle with Scripture and still create space for people to wrestle too.
But what we can’t do – what we must not do – is shut the door on people Jesus died for.
Our job isn’t to be the gatekeeper. Our job is to point people to Jesus and trust Him to do the rest.
I think sometimes we get so caught up in being right that we forget to be kind.
We focus so much on pointing out sin that we forget to point people to the Savior.
We’re so concerned with defending doctrine that we forget to demonstrate love.
And in the process, we push away the very people Jesus came to reach.
So here’s my challenge for us as believers:
Let’s be known for our love, not our judgment.
Let’s be a safe place for people to bring their questions, their doubts, their mess.
Let’s create space where people can encounter Jesus without first having to prove they’re worthy.
Because the truth is, none of us are worthy. That’s the whole point of grace.
We’re all broken. We’re all in need of a Savior. And the only difference between us and the person who hasn’t met Jesus yet is that we’ve already experienced the love that changes everything.
So let’s share it. Freely. Generously. Without conditions.
Let’s be the hands and feet of Jesus. The ones who run toward the broken, not away from them.
Let’s be the people who say, “Come as you are. You’re welcome here. And Jesus loves you more than you’ll ever know.”
TODAY’S CHALLENGE
Alright, before we close, I want to give you a challenge for this week.
If you’ve ever felt unworthy of God’s love – if you’ve been carrying shame or guilt or the belief that you’re too far gone – I want you to pray one simple prayer:
“Jesus, if You really love me, show me.”
That’s it. Short. Simple. Honest.
And then pay attention.
He will answer. Maybe not in the way you expect, but He will.
Maybe through a song that brings you to tears. Maybe through a person who says exactly what you needed to hear. Maybe through a moment of peace that washes over you out of nowhere. Maybe through a quiet thought that reminds you He’s near.
And if you’re someone who already knows His love – if you’ve experienced that grace and transformation – ask Him to help you show that love to someone who doesn’t.
Ask Him to make you a safe place. A bridge back to faith for someone who’s been hurt by the church.
Because the world doesn’t need more judgment. It needs more Jesus.
And you – yes, you – can be the one who reflects Him.
Friend, Jesus sees you.
He knows everything about you – the good, the hard, the secret, the broken – and He still calls you worthy.
- You don’t have to change for Him to love you. His love changes you.
- You don’t have to earn His grace. You just have to receive it.
- You don’t have to prove you’re good enough. You just have to come.
Thank you for reading! I know this was a tender topic, but I hope it reminded you – or maybe showed you for the first time – just how deeply you are loved.
If this article resonated with you, share it with someone who might need to hear it.
Because they need to hear the truth: Jesus came for them. He’s been waiting for them. And He loves them more than they’ll ever know.
Now that we’ve remembered who Jesus truly is and how He welcomes everyone, it’s time to prepare our hearts for His coming. Next week, we’re kicking off December by talking about preparing your HEART, not just your house, for Christmas.”
So until then, remember: You are seen. You are known. You are loved. Exactly as you are.
I’ll talk to you soon!
~God bless.
