Titles are the hardest, to put into the line the summation of my heart. To tell you exactly what I am feeling, experiences, and bringing to this paragraph. It is not enough my fingers decide, as I tab down to begin writing. I am eager and anxiously awaiting the opportunity to let my fingers go wild, to animate upon the screen the things that are upon my soul. I love writing, probably should be studying PolySci, but instead I am listening to soft Christian music, exhaling in peace because I have the opportunity to stop today and write. What a beautiful gift. I was called beautiful today and it surprised me. I wonder if he truly sees what I do. What difference does it make anyways? I am a new creation, that I can understand and feel and believe, but as my eyes look upon the image before me, in the mirror, I cannot wrap my head around myself being included in the Imago Dei. I simply cannot comprehend the identity of my soul, my face, being made in the image of God, obviously tainted by sin, but STILL. I cannot measure up to that identity. I simply can't ever. isn't that the point though? That CHRIST alone still sees me and thinks I am worthy of still loving, even enough to die for me?! When results fail, Christ is enough. When tests go poorly, Christ is enough. Maybe that's my problem. I try to create this beautiful poem, fighting the reality that it would fit much better in prose. OR that I am a sinner in need of grace and cannot understand nor rationalize the cross. OR that Christ's love terrifies me when I face it in the presence of my inadequacy because I will never be able to react sufficiently to it.