by Jennifer McPherson

Being who you are isn’t always easy—especially when you’ve been told your entire life that something about you needed to be fixed, corrected, or covered up.

It’s the same lie whispered to Adam and Eve in the garden: You are flawed. You are unqualified to stand before God. You are unworthy of His presence and unwanted by Him.

That’s the message I’ve battled for most of my life—sometimes from others, but often in my own mind. The hardest lies to overcome are the familiar ones—the ones that sound like our parents’ frustration, our friends’ jokes, or society’s expectations echoing in our thoughts.

But today, I’m reminded: I am found perfect and complete in Him.
This truth alone is powerful enough to uproot the message of striving.

The enemy loves the language of “not good enough”—he thrives in the paperwork of proving, even when it’s dressed in Christian language. It’s still the same old religion: try harder, do more, become worthy.

A friend recently said, “I’ve never felt religion quite like what you all have there in Cleveland.” And she’s right. There’s the loud religion that demands, “Do something to be something.” Then there’s the quiet kind—the one that hides behind freedom-sounding words but carries the same heavy foundation of striving.

So what do we do?
We dare to tell people the truth: you already are.

Tell the addict, “You already are.”
Tell the prodigal, “You already are.”
Tell the lost, the immature, the hurting—who they already are, not who they need to become.

It’s radical, but it’s the gospel.
People who leave your presence feeling accepted, seen, and loved will bear far more fruit than those who walk away feeling they need to measure up.

The indwelling of the Holy Spirit—Christ in me—eradicates shame by whispering, “You are God’s beloved child.”

How do I know? Because before Jesus ever performed a miracle, preached a sermon, or went to the cross, the Father declared, “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”

If He loves us in the same way He loves Jesus, what do you think He’s whispering to our hearts today? Not condemnation—connection. Not judgment—invitation.

He came to sit with us, walk with us, and talk with us.

Honestly, I can’t do another ounce of religion. This is my exodus—out of the system of sin, condemnation, and sacrifice that was completely done away with by the law of grace.

“There is no condemnation…” means none. Not even a trace.

So if I can leave you with one thought:
Your only requirement is to be who you are.
Not to climb, prove, or perform—but to rest in the truth that Christ in you is the assurance of glory.

His word will not return void—it will accomplish what it was sent to do.

So lay down the yoke of striving and pick up the paintbrush, the pen, the song, the dance. Lead boldly across the river into the promises of God.

Leave behind the message of becoming—
and pick up the mantle of sonship, freedom, and joy.

And if you find yourself comparing, striving, or reaching for a crown—
lay it down.

You already are.