I'm a self-proclaimed Instagram-addict. I love snapping pictures of everything from whimsical coffee mugs to goofy grins. I love cropping, editing, and filtering those snaps, trying to offer a glimpse into my life that will receive the most likes (which we all know has to surpass 11). Yesterday, I sat by a lake in the middle of the breathtaking Rockies with my sweet boyfriend. My fingers clutched my phone trying to find the perfect combination of lighting and editing to make my favorite photo "Instagram-worthy." Steve sat patiently, allowing me to spend unreasonable amounts of time cropping before a freight train of conviction hit me.
There I was, surrounded by snow capped towers and sparkling streams and all I could do was try to fabricate a life that will hopefully make my Instagram followers tap the "like" button. This is riculdous. And so convicting.
How often do we do this? How often do we lose sight of the beauty and life surrounding us because we're so busy tirelessly begging for likes? I don't know about you, but I spend a lot of time trying to make people like me. I spend a lot of time trying to come up with the edited and filtered version of myself that will get the most "likes."
Seemingly, with every activity in my day, I select a new filter. There's the Sepia-toned Christian girl filter which I choose for leading and planning church events. There's the X-Pro II filter that pretends to be relatable and interesting, hoping to identify with some people who can give me some additional likes. There's the Mayfair-toned friend filter that desperately tries to maintain the likes of my dearest friends. While I'm busy filtering my life for likes, Jesus is graciously waiting for me to look up from my iPhone screen, crawl into His lap, so that he can patiently whisper, "I like you. You're enough."
Sweet friends, Jesus likes you. You can stop spending countless hours fighting for his affection. He's tapped your like button so many times, if you never receive another like from another human-being, you're still enough. You're still liked.
I hope you take a break from filtering your life, trying to crop and edit yourself into someone you're not in a desperate attempt to gain followers. I hope you look up and see Jesus standing with open arms, ready to remind you that he more than likes you. You're enough.