Some mornings I wake up wondering if God accidentally mixed up my file with someone else’s.
Like maybe this was meant for someone a little more patient, organized, or… well, together.

Because honestly?
I don’t feel like the “strong faith” type.

I pray, yes. But then I spend the rest of the day trying to fix the things I just prayed about.
I trust God… until the Wi-Fi breaks, my plans collapse, or someone else’s life starts looking a lot more “put together” than mine.

And in those moments, the question hits again — quietly, but hard:
Am I enough?

The easy answer is “Of course, you are!”
But let’s be real.
That’s not how it feels.

The world loves metrics.
It measures your worth by what you accomplish, how happy you look, how shiny your life seems online.
And I’m over here just trying to prevent my kitchen from turning into a dish jungle.

There’s this part of me that wants to do better — to finally “arrive” at some kind of consistent faith.
But there’s also the part that whispers, “You’re still not enough.”
Not patient enough.
Not grateful enough.
Not spiritual enough.

And sometimes, that whisper gets loud.

When it does, I think about David — just a kid with a slingshot, standing in front of a giant.
The world screamed Goliath.
But God whispered, Watch this.
One small, ridiculous-looking act of faith took down what terrified everyone else.
It’s like God’s way of reminding us: it was never about being big enough, brave enough, or ready enough.
It was always about Him being enough.

I used to think faith was about getting it right — the right prayers, the right feelings, the right schedule for “quiet time.”
Now I think it’s about showing up when everything in you wants to hide.

I mean, look at the people God worked with. The Bible is full of examples.
They weren’t superheroes of holiness.
They were just… people.
Abraham took off without a map. Sarah laughed at God.
Noah built a boat nowhere near water. Rahab’s past wasn’t exactly Sunday-school material.
None of them were “enough.” And somehow, that’s exactly who God picked — the same ones we now call heroes of faith.

Which makes me wonder — maybe the whole point isn’t to be impressive.
Maybe it’s just to be available.

There’s a strange freedom in realizing God doesn’t need my résumé.
He’s not scrolling through my life thinking, “Hmm, she’d be more useful if she volunteered more, had more followers, or had her life more together.”

If anything, He seems to specialize in using people mid-mess.
While they’re doubting.
While they’re tired.
While they’re halfway convinced they’re doing everything wrong.

Because that’s when there’s room for Him to work.

“But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’
Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”
— 2 Corinthians 12:9

I forget that sometimes.
I think I have to hold it all together so He doesn’t regret picking me.
But maybe faith looks more like unclenching my fists than trying harder.

Some days I do believe that.
Other days, I scroll through social media and immediately lose it.

It’s like watching everyone else run marathons while I’m still tying my shoes.
Someone else is on a mission trip. Others having a great career changing the world.
And I’m over here asking God for the strength to not snap at the person who just cut in line.

But then I remember: God never said “Do great things.”
He said, “Be still.”
“Follow Me.”
“Come.”

That’s it.
No applause. No performance.
Just presence.

I used to want a clear calling, something glamorous or obvious.
Now I think faith might look like listening more than I speak.
Answering emails with grace.
Choosing not to spiral when things don’t go as planned.

Because faith isn’t always fire and thunder.
Sometimes it’s just showing up — weary, doubtful, coffee in hand — and saying, “Okay God, I’m here.”

The Bible shows over and over how God chooses foolish and weak people.

He uses people who forget, who fall apart, who laugh at the wrong time, who need grace for breakfast.

People like me.

If that’s you too, you’re in good company.

So when that voice says, “You’re not enough,”
maybe you don’t need to argue with it.
Maybe you just say, “You’re right. But He is.”

There’s something strangely beautiful about that, isn’t there?
The Creator of everything — galaxies, oceans, mountains — looks at my messy, overthinking heart and says, “You. I want you.”

And He doesn’t flinch.
He doesn’t wait for me to improve.

He invites us — as we are — into His perfect plan.
Not because He needs us, but because He loves us.
He invites us into a story where weakness isn’t failure — it’s the space grace fills.
Where “not enough” turns into “just right for what I’m doing.”

I don’t know where you’re at today.
Maybe you’re doubting, drifting, or holding on by a thread.
Maybe you’re tired of trying to earn love you already have.

Just know this:
You’re not too late.
You’re not too ordinary.
You’re not too anything.

God’s not looking for the most qualified.
He’s looking for the most willing.

And when you ask, “Why me, God?”
I think He smiles and says, “Why not?”

Maybe “enough” was never the goal.
Maybe it’s just learning to live loved — right in the middle of your cracks and chaos.

Because that’s where grace does its best work.