If God loves me for me, why can’t I be me?

I have a short temper. I can be really rude. I tend to do as I please. I’m vain. There are times I think I’m smarter than everyone around me. After all, I’m only human. I’m not God. And to even try to be like God is blasphemy, right? This is me.

Or not.

I was thinking of a post on social media I saw yesterday: why is being you a lie of Satan when God loves you for being you? I wanted to comment but a person I love told me that sometimes she wishes I’d listen without responding. So I didn’t.

I tried, at least.

Being you becomes a lie when who you think you are is, in the first place, a lie.

God created us in His image. If we find this vague, look at Jesus. Everything He is, that is how God is. As a Mormon blog lists, Jesus is faithful, prayerful, wise, virtuous, humble, obedient, patient, charitable, giving and forgiving. So shall we be.

Instead, we think we aren’t – or can’t be – these. We allow our weaknesses to enslave us. We believe we are the bad things we do. We think that these are natural – that we were designed to be this way. We subscribe to the lie that the superficial us is the real us.

But we are not. We were created in God’s likeness. Scrape off the shining superficial you and in the core of your being you will find a faithful, prayerful, wise, virtuous, humble, obedient, patient, charitable, giving and forgiving person who is desperate to come out, desperate to be.

This is the real you. This is how you were designed. Let that person free from the web of lies suppressing it.

Yes, God loves us despite our temper, rudeness, impertinence, disobedience, earthly desires, pride and all else. But the experience of feeling that love – “in our guts,” as Fr. Albert Nolan wrote in his book and Fr. Peter motioned one Sunday – will force us to do something about it. Our Father’s selfless, unconditional, all-encompassing love will fill us with the desire to love Him back, even with the knowledge that we can’t love Him as much as He loves us.

His goodness will drive us to try to be us. The real us.

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