Gloria to God:
Dear God, Karen told me that a friend of hers cried when he read what You said yesterday about money. It's a relief to know I'm not the only one with my issues. Karen wanted me to know that Your words reach many hearts.
God:
Gloria, you are everyone. With variations. Some readers have perhaps gotten past your particular issue at any given time, but then your questions remind them of it, or My words ring a bell, tolling for another issue they have buried.
All your questions and banter are an excuse for Me to pour out My love.
With every question you pose, you are asking: "God, can you love me today? Will You? Will You love me today? How will You express Your love for me today?"
Gloria:
There is a little book that an Episcopalian minister loaned me when this writing to You was starting. The title is He and I, translated from the French, Moi et Lui. A little nun received messages from Jesus, and the book is her questions and Jesus' answers. Her questions were only a line or two, and Jesus' responses were also only a line or two.
Basically the book went like this: She said how unworthy she was, and Jesus told her she was worthy and that he loved her.
At the time, I thought: "Well, if she can write a book like that that says the same thing over and over again, I certainly can do better than that."
Now I see that my questions and statements, whatever the form, are the same as hers, and the essence of Your answers is also the same as Jesus'.
God:
Yes. You tell Me your inadequacies (you even feel that your unworthiness isn't unworthy enough)! And I tell you that you are worthy, and that My love for you is vast and incontrovertible and complete. Like that little French nun, you persist in proclaiming your unworthiness, as if you hadn't heard Me, as if you knew better than I.
Tell Me, is there anything you can think of that you believe you know better than I?
Gloria:
No.
God:
Then why do you persist in this fantasy of unworthiness? Why do you "Yes, but, God" Me? What would happen if you accepted My truth?
What if you said, "Gee whiz, God thinks I'm okay. Shouldn't I believe His words more than what a teacher or a family member or a stranger once said to me — or how they looked at me — or what I felt when a four-year old playmate threw stones at me?
"Shouldn't I believe God more than cosmetic advertising on TV? Shouldn't I believe in what God says more than I believe in an aspirin or a pharmaceutical discovery or what a doctor says?
"Shouldn't I believe in myself at least as much as I believe in someone else? If I can believe in someone else, why can't I believe in me?
"If I can believe in God, why can't I believe in the worthiness of His creation?
"Or do I persist in believing that somehow I am the only one on earth He did not really create? Or that, if He did, He created me with cracks and bumps that make me a second to be sold in the back room for less?
"Do I think God made a mistake with me? That somehow I passed inspection on a fluke? That I slipped past Him? That He wasn't looking? Or that He forgot me altogether as I might forget cookies baking in the oven, or do I think God forgot to put me in the oven at all?
"Do I really think God made a mistake with me?"
The answer, Gloria, is Yes, you really do. You really think I made a faulty product, and this is your Sixth Revelation.
Because the world did not see your perfection, you believed them. Because the world did not honor you, you thought they were right.
This is what We undo here.
Your fault is in not believing in Me. All our communication, and you still let echoes of the past drown Me out.
You think you are an imposter child of Mine.
If you are an imposter, then what am I?
You feel My love. You believe I am Love. And you "partly" believe I love you, and you persist in believing that you, somehow, you alone, are not worthy of My love.
That little nun is everyone. That little nun is you.
Gloria:
Dear God, what do I do about it?
God:
First the realization that there is this discrepancy, that you have been kidding yourself, kidding yourself that you are unworthy and kidding yourself that you believe otherwise.
The realization is like toppling bricks over.
Until you topple them over, you can only patch and make things look better.
With the realization, you start from scratch. This is humility.
You say, "God, I will take the bricks and place them one by one as You tell me. I will keep my eyes on You, and I will think about Your wonderfulness and forget my imposed awfulness.
"As I think about You, I imbibe Your sweetness and strength. You are a health drink, and I desire You and Your health which are Your wholeness, and I will take them for mine.
"If I drink your sweetness and strength, then they become part of me. As I take big gulps, they become me, and I become You in my vision as well as in Yours.
"I see I have had a version of myself that was inadequate. The version was inadequate, not I. Now I trade in my cheap version for Your true vision.
"I will just keep on loving You, dear Father, and loving others as I can, and one day I will wake to see that I see myself as You see me, and then You are complete.
"When I am dissolved in You, I do not disappear. I am found. Because You are where I am, and I stand with You in Heaven, I will see only Your light, and shine it back to You."
Gloria, say to yourself today the following:
"I am worthy to be."
And then be.