When I was a few years younger and a little more idealistic, I set out to write my first novel. I couldn’t count the attempt that I made as a ten-year-old, which was a tale about a caterpillar-like creature living on a tomato plant. No, this was one was going to be my break-out novel, the real deal. The theme that I sought to explore was identity. I wanted to challenge two notions that seem different but are actually related. First, I wanted my story to shout “down with conformity!” And second, I wanted to say, “But is it good for people to believe that they are perfect and shouldn’t change?”
I don’t think I did this theme justice; my middle-school age protagonist just kind of whined through it all. And I don’t plan on giving a definitive answer today either, but I would like to leave you with something to nibble on.
How about instead of always wondering if God loves us “just the way we are?” (does everything we do and does every part of us please him?) and if everyone else loves us “just the way we are”… why don’t we ponder instead whether we love God just the way He is?
Or if we just love Him when he does things for us.