It's OK To Be Unimpressive

You don’t have to shine to be seen. Grace finds you right where you are, cracks, wrinkles, and all.

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” ~2 Corinthians 12:9

I woke up this morning and, once again, I felt small.

Not in some poetic, “how great Thou art” sort of way, just small. Like I’d failed someone again. Like I wasn’t measuring up. I stared into the mirror, and it confirmed what I already knew: I’m not the person I want to be. And I’m definitely not the person others seem to expect.

My résumé? More like a wrinkled page with half-finished sentences. My dreams? They don’t belong on a stage; they barely belong in a journal. While others sprint forward, I feel stuck. Like I’m standing on the platform watching every train leave without me.

But in the middle of all that self-doubt and mental noise, there’s this still small voice, a whisper. And it’s not my inner critic or my motivational voice. It’s something, or Someone else saying, “Child, you don’t have to try so hard.”

The God Who Isn’t Impressed

That whisper is grace.

And grace doesn’t come to applaud our performances. It doesn’t scroll through our highlight reels. It doesn’t rank us or grade us or sit in the back row with its arms folded, waiting for us to earn a standing ovation.

Grace shows up for the tired. The broken. The ones with more cracks than confidence.

I’ve learned that God isn’t impressed with stage lights or spotless records or perfectly edited lives. He’s not drawn to the ones who’ve mastered the performance.

He’s drawn to honesty. Surrender. Letting go.

That’s what He wants, hearts that stop pretending. Hearts that stop striving to be something they’re not. A heart that simply comes, scars and all.

A Kingdom Built Backwards

It still surprises me sometimes how backwards the kingdom of God really is.

We live in a world that worships success and status. It pushes us to do more, be more, and achieve more. But Jesus comes in and flips the whole thing upside down.

The last gets lifted to the front. He chooses the broken. He finds us hiding behind our shame and says, “Don’t turn away, I want you.”

While the powerful preen and posture, too busy being ten feet tall, grace stoops low. It kneels in the dust beside the overlooked. It enters the messy middle and whispers truth to the insecure and the inadequate.

In that place, I’ve discovered something beautiful: my weakness doesn’t disqualify me; it’s the very place where grace meets me.

The Beauty in Scars

There’s this relentless pressure in the world to fix yourself before showing up, to polish your image, clean up your mess, and be impressive. But that’s not the Gospel.

The Gospel says God sees your scars and still draws near. He doesn't wince. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't say, “Come back when you're more put together.”

He says, “I see you. I love you. And I’m not leaving.”

We’re not loved because we’ve managed to erase the evidence of our failures. We’re loved despite them. Better yet, we’re loved through them. Because in our cracks and gaps and tears, His grace gets to shine.

It’s okay to be unimpressive, because He’s not.

When the Hungry Are Fed

The Gospel has always belonged to the unimpressive.

The meek? They inherit everything.

The mourning? They learn to sing.

The hungry? They get filled.

The proud? They walk away with nothing.

That’s the way of Jesus. And that’s the way I want to walk, even if I limp the whole time.

So, if today you feel like the last person who should be called by God, you’re in good company. If your résumé is a mess, your dreams feel forgotten, and your soul is heavy, you’re right where grace does its best work.

Come As You Are (Not As You “Should” Be)

I’m done pretending. Done performing. Done trying to earn what Christ already purchased.

I don’t need to impress God; I need to trust Him.

There’s rest in knowing He’s not asking for perfection. He’s asking for surrender. He’s not asking for a performance. He’s offering a place to sit and breathe.

So come as you are, not as you “should” be. Come with your doubts, your fatigue, your fear, your unfinished stories, your wrinkled pages. Come with the mess.

Because unimpressive people are exactly the kind of people Jesus came for.

And that’s very, very good news.