I learned long ago that nothing about me is enough—not good enough, smart enough, talented enough—the list continues ad nauseam. The very best of me emerges only fleetingly and even then is merely a thinly veiled version of the despicable me in default mode—a shadow rider striving desperately to conceal the dominant dark side, shrinking from the light while longing for it at the selfsame time. What is demanded is not self-improvement or selective enhancement but transformation, and transformation comes only through death and resurrection. “A guilty conscience is a great blessing, but only if it drives us to come home” (John R. W. Stott).
Just in the nick of time, enter Easter. Praise be to Christ our risen King, He proffers life through death, brokers eternity from finality. Christ bids me come and die so that I may be raised to new life in Him and by Him. I will never be adequate in my current state. Only the Cross and empty tomb are enough.