You can’t be everything and do everything.

So don’t even try.

From the outside, my life has always seemed perfect. I have always been the girl who did it all, and did it well.

I got good grades and now I have a great job. I’ve traveled to different parts of the world, I’m involved at my church, have a tendency to be a leader, and I know exactly what I want and what I need to get there.

I’ve been called perfect by many.

A compliment meant to flatter and encourage, but as I have gotten older it has begun to slowly and forcefully pull me down lower and lower until I have become stuck in the reality of trying to fulfill that compliment. That word. That stigma.

I have always wanted to do it all. I want to invest in every friendship and every relationship with all I’ve got. I want to do all things active on a daily basis. I want to lead small groups and lead worship. I want to spend time outdoors exploring. I want to travel and see the world. I want to volunteer my time to people and places that need it. I want to write. I want to read. I want to be the best teacher I can be. I want to do it all.

And so I do. I plan my schedule minute to minute and have decided that 5.5 hours of sleep is about all I can fit in my day. Because come on, I have things to do.

To anyone who knows my schedule, it seems impressive. Like I have endless energy and stamina. A vigor and a love for life. An inability to tone it down and take a break.

And all of this is true, but I have also come to realize that my love for life and taking opportunities has become suffocating in a way. Many days I feel like I barely have room to breathe.

And when life starts to become overwhelming, on those days where I am on the verge of a breakdown, that word “perfect” creeps up on me and tells me that I can do it all. I mean come on, I am Morgan Colander. I can handle anything.

And so I keep pushing. I shove down the emotions, the feelings of being overwhelmed, the fear of the unknown…and I keep going.

Until my Father decides it’s enough. I have stood on my pedestal long enough believing that I could be everything and do everything. And so He knocks me off.

He brings me to my breaking point, when I can no longer be strong on my own. When I can’t hold back the tears anymore. When the only thing I can do is fall on my knees and rest in His presence.

And always He whispers, “Be still.”

“For you, daughter, were not created to be perfect on your own. You were created to be perfect in my image. You were created to be weak, so I could be strong. You were created to fail, so I could succeed. You were created to fall, so I could raise you up. You were created to be my vessel. You were created to need me. You were created to rest in me.”

Day in and day out, I am unintentionally trying to fill this role of perfection that the world has put on me, and without knowing it, I am stripping myself from the sheer joy, peace, and stillness our Father created us to have as a part of our life.

Rather than recognizing how much I need Him in a moment of weakness, I am so apt to figure out what I need to do to make everything better. What I can do better to improve the situation. And once again, I begin loading myself up with projects, challenges, and tasks, when all my Father asks me to do is to be still.

He tells me that His strength is made perfect in my weakness. That in my weakness He can perform His greatest miracles. That in my imperfection, His Kingdom is built.

My Father never told me I was perfect. Actually, He told me the opposite. He promised me I would mess up. I would fail. I would fall short. I would be put in moments of struggle and temptation. I would be human, and that He would be God.

The God who sent His Son to die for me, so my imperfection could be forgiven, redeemed, and covered in mercy.

So, if it’s a guarantee that I can’t be perfect, maybe it’s time I stop trying. After all, my Father tells me that it is not about seeking the approval of man, but rather living a life that honors Him. He tells me that in this world I will have trouble, but He has already overcome that trouble for me, I only need to rest in Him.

I am not perfect.

My life is not perfect.

I can’t be everything and do everything.

But that’s okay, because I don’t have to.

In those moments where I feel human weakness begin to creep in, feelings of being overwhelmed take over, and the need to just say no washes over me, I am going to stop fighting it. I am not strong enough on my own. I am not unbreakable. I can’t do it alone.

I will be imperfect, and proud of it, because in my imperfection, He shines. In my imperfection, He does His greatest work. In my imperfection, He wraps His arms around me and covers me in His unconditional boundless love.

And that, letting my Father do the heavy lifting He has already promised He will do for me, is far better than attempting to live up to a standard of perfection the world has put on me. Living life entranced in His peace is the best life to live.

I am not perfect; instead, I rest in my perfect Savior.