Santa

Imagine this:
A little girl is waiting in line at the mall, anxious to meet Santa Clause. Her little hands won't stop moving in anticipation. She is nervous, but excited. She feels like the time will never come. But finally, she is next in line, and making her way up to Santa's lap. She smiles nervously up at him, and and his warm smile makes her immediately feel comfortable. But then he asks her, "Have you been a good little girl this year?"
Her breath catches in her throat, and all the times she has not been a good little girl come to mind. Her little heart starts beating a thousand miles an hour, and tears start to roll down her cheeks.
"No, Santa, I haven't been a good little girl. I've lied to my parents, and fought with my brothers. I'm not a good little girl."
Santa smiled. "That's okay."
She gasps and looks up at him, tears still rolling down down her little cheeks.
"I don't expect you to be perfect.

I am the little girl, and Jesus is Santa. I come to Him with anticipation, anxious to be close to my King. I come before Him, sit with Him, and He welcomes me. However, as I sit with Him, I realize how messed up I am. I look at Him and say, "You don't really want me. I'm not good enough for You."
But He looks at me, smiles, and says, "That's okay. I don't expect you to be perfect."