Today began with a difficulty. In the midst of supervising a return to home learning for my daughter and planned zoom meetings about vocation and spirituality for me, I received a report from the most difficult of my examining chaplain interviews. It was, on the whole, a reasonably fair report on the basis of the information the chaplain had been given and the conversation we had had, which made the words 'not recommended' towards the end of it sting just a bit more.

I was advised by my Director of Ordinands not to panic and, since we were due to meet anyway, we went through the report, discussed the ways it was accurate and the ways in which, by poor questioning and poor answers, it was, in fact, not doing the truth (or me) any justice. We came up with a plan.

After the meeting, however, I took a moment to cry. I knew that we had a course of action, that there was hope still that this calling was a genuine one and one still to be pursued at this time. Nevertheless, I needed to let something out, to mourn something. Reflecting on that now, it was mourning the loss of part of who I was, a part I needed to cast off if I was to follow this path any further.

You see, I'm not very good at selling my strengths and dwell, most often, on my weaknesses. I'm good at telling people what I'm not good at, but poor at stating so the things I can do. Reviewing my registration form this evening and reflecting on many discussions I've had over the last few years, this has been more than evident, unlike the strengths that many have yet seen and affirmed along this journey.

I made a lot of changes to that form, cutting, editing, extending, rewording, but most of them came down to this: focusing on strengths and on lessons learned, rather than on the mistakes which taught them. Rejoicing in my talents and on the potential to develop and grow.

What has all this to do with you, dear reader? Well, in my Church's night prayer, there was a video shared of Dr. Andrew Ollerton of the Bible Reading Fellowship, teaching very succinctly a message that Genesis chapter one contains: that we are made in the image of God and, as the rest of the Bible teaches, made because we are loved. I've known that as long as I've been a Christian, but only tonight, I think, has it sunk in that all my self-deprecation, self-criticism and self-doubt is, essentially, a rejection of that. Yes, there's plenty of room in a life of faith to reflect on our weaknesses and repent of our sins - the Bible is nothing if not a guide to facing our imperfections and relying on Good to overcome them - but to suggest that you are truly worthless and broken beyond repair, as I fear my own attitude has sometimes been, is to do God a terrible disservice.

My devotion tonight talked about Hilda, the East Anglian Princess who became a Northumbrian nun. She had to reject one narrative about her life to truly except the one that God offered and in doing so stripped herself of worldly value to follow Him. I'm learning that I have to give up my delusions of wretchedness to see myself holistically as God does, a sinner made in the image of God and loved by Him. Only then can I start to become the person - and perhaps priest - that he wants me to be.

What narrative that you tell yourself about your life might you have to reject to follow God's call on your life? Do you see yourself as God sees you? Are you able to believe that He does, indeed, love you? If not, why not? Do you find a story of affirmation in faith surprising or not? Why?