Faith | Does God accept us only if our lives are ‘spotless’?

The six small deep purple dots on my pajama top are signs of a blackberry sacrificed for my breakfast, a blackberry full of itself, full of dark rich juice that it sent out in all directions as I cut into it.

This was the life-blood of the blackberry, one of God’s gifts to birds, animals, humans, all who share the same hunger.

I should get out the stain remover, with its efficient way of erasing the signs of nourishment gone astray.

The norms of my society say that my pajama top needs to be rescued from these tiny drops, that these signs of the blackberry’s juiciness are a violation of the cleanliness code. My pajamas may have spots or stripes or sayings put there by the manufacturer but not by me.

I may live part of my life in the pajamas but nothing of my life must show on them. No stains, tears, unraveling allowed.

When my pajamas begin to look too lived in, bearing the signs of many years of restless nights, or heaven forbid, a life-giving series of breakfasts, conventional thinking says they must be discarded if they are beyond restoring to something close to their original state.

What if I see the small purple dots, not as a defilement of my pj’s but as a sign of the enjoyment of having blackberries for breakfast? A sign of the privilege of having breakfast at all?

And what if I see the small brown dots on the back of my hands as a sign of having been blessed with a great many years of breakfasts?

What if the scar over my left eye, a souvenir of a fall while hiking, stays there as a reminder both to watch my step and to give thanks that I can walk even if my knees grumble? It’s also a reminder of the friend who was there when I fell and was so kind and helpful, and how much we all need each other because you never know when a crisis can hit.

I’ve been asked “Aren’t you going to get that scar removed?”. No.

I wonder what this says about my life, about the stains and scars and frayed places I wear on the inside?

These outward spots and scars remind me of the inward ones, things done and left undone, words and deeds carrying remorse or resentment. Am I to strive to erase this history or embrace it?

Does God only accept me if I’m spotless? I find so much hope in a wonderful hymn that says: “just as I am, I come”!

Forgiveness, acceptance, compassion ... there are many ways to move on from the wounds of life, wounds received and wounds given. None of these healing methods, while they restore my spirit, are designed to erase from memory the lessons learned.

The spots and scars are reminders of good times, bad times, the grace of God all the time.