I always find myself craving honesty. Not only in myself, but in everyone else. "Lower your expectations. You cannot set standards that high for people." Hearing this is conflicting at times. It pulls me from side-to-side as I struggle to find my balance. One side screams, "You are ruining your relationships by expecting someone to be genuine at all times. Do you not understand that is a part of being human?" I try grasping the voice, but I hear a whisper from the other wall that sounds like my own defense- "Why is it so hard to dive head-first into something and show ourselves how we actually are? Why do we expect so much out of ourselves?" The whisper breaks through the screams, saying that we simply cannot afford to use the one life that we are given to put a show on for this world, constantly changing our character for our current audience. We cannot place the highlights of our lives on screen and set our outtakes to the side. Those watching want to see the scenes we choose not to show; they want something real, putting them on the edge of their seats with raw emotion and a truth so riveting that they search deep within themselves. We need to make our identities something so beautiful that it would put us to shame to even consider hiding the gift that it contains from the rest of the world. Identity is something that can only truly be authentic if the honesty that accompanies it is unfailing. Many people would disagree with this and say that it is too dangerous to be honest in today's society, but boy, when identity and honesty intertwine, they create a boldness that yearns to be noticed. Together, they demand to be felt. I want that collision. Writing has always been the thing to unquestionably carve my identity, showing me things about myself that I never understood, beforehand. Sometimes, it starts a little with me slamming my laptop down, exasperatedly saying, "Alright, God, throw me face first into the mud if you have to. I don't care if I'm ugly crying in my bedroom by the time this is over. I don't want to be comfortable. I don't want to be blended. I want to be honest." I will never carefully walk over to my journal and write pretty sentences about all the gold that life has to offer. My pen doesn't create hearts near the corners of the papers, but instead leaves scratched out words and imperfect lines. Before this blog began, I told myself that if I were to post it, I would have to be flowing honesty out of my fingertips and be sparked with authenticity. Doing that means talking about the things that make you shift with unease as you show the common struggles of humanity and not relenting, even when that seems like the most sensible thing to do. Writing is giving everything you have, in hopes of a person reading it and feeling the familiarity of the struggles of their own lives, but seeing a profound hope. When I write, I am embracing honesty and am sharing the testimonies that shape my identity. Numerous times, I have been faced with this question that will shape our identities more than ever: "How do I get closer to God?" "Ask Him. Pray. Worship. Read His Word. Seek HIM at all times." I think that would be the initial response from everyone. But how often do we say these things and not do them? Once I get close to someone, I end up knowing them like the back of my hand. Can I do that with God? Not so much. I could search Him and read His word every second for the rest of my life, but still get surprised by something He does. The more I get to know people, the more I realize how much we truly place our identities in other things an unhealthy amount. We lie to ourselves about our struggles and push off the things that need to be fixed. These realizations started to shift my answers to these questions. "How do I meet him halfway? How do I truly get to know Him?" One night, a girl choked up as she told me about her struggle to find God. She was raised in a constant battle of finding redemption in some of the most horrible parts of life. Her testimonies are ones for the books. She was so, so strong and she had a fire in her eyes. I am envious of the way she handled things; "Experience, move on. Experience, move on.." But, beneath the cracks, she was terrified. "You know, I think you set unrealistic expectations when it comes to you and your relationship with God." She searched the meaning behind my voice in the black of the night, "What do you mean? I try to pray. I try to do all of these things that will help me get closer to Him. It just doesn't work out for me." We not only like to lie to ourselves, but we really, really like to lie to God. We stand before Him day-by-day and hide behind polished prayers about the lives of others and avoid the dust on our own shoulders. We act blameless, even though we know He has dug deeper than we ever will for ourselves. As these pretty songs come out of our mouths in our churches, God knows what we do not. He knows our mistakes, our grieves, our temptations- yet He still has the generosity to look past the darkness and see the light. He dwells in that light as He says, "I died for you. I died to save you from the pain you have caused for yourself. I am for you, just meet me in my arms." That night, my answer changed. I looked at her and something felt familiar. The tone of her voice and the heaviness that it carried were not foreign. I used to doubt myself for not having a perfect relationship with God. By doing this, I doubted grace. I found myself unworthy because of this, and I prayed to be enough. I not only spoke to her as I spoke to my former self. I sat up and told her, "Stop chasing a perfect relationship with God. It is going to be messy. You might even try wrestling with Him, like Jacob did. You won't understand and you will get hurt from time-to-time, but He isn't planning on leaving your side. He has always been here, but you haven't been seeking honesty. Be honest with Him. Tell Him your fears, tell Him your weaknesses. It's okay to wonder why things happen the way they do. He wants something real with you. He hears the same prayers and the same songs over and over. Sing to Him a new song. Give Him individuality." I spoke of acceptance. Acceptance of herself. Acceptance of myself. Acceptance of God. My identity used to be wrapped around the word acceptance. It was my hardship. It was like that old song you cannot get out of your head, no matter how many times you listen to something else. You used to sing it obnoxiously in the car, but now you are ready for an intervention. That song was a constant annoyance of mine. It was accompanied with questions such as, "Am I really enough?" or "What can I change about myself to be who I need to be?" The questions would make their way into my prayers, knowing that only God could change the lies that I told myself. One thing I have learned about prayer is that we cannot limit God to a timeframe that is suitable for us. We can't set the timer on our prayers, sit back and say, "Okay, God. You have three months to do your job.", and expect Him to actually follow our own twisted ways of trying to play God, Himself. I personally think that if God were in a race, He would set up a cot in His lane and just give out cups of water to those running themselves dry. "What's the point in this? You see the finish line, yet you continue to run in circles." I wasn't getting anywhere with the laps I would run around God, in hopes of Him ending the race sooner. I had to let go of my own timing and place the clock in His hands. It was almost six months later and I was in a convention center in Tennessee when my prayers were answered. My youth group was there for a weekend of worship and although I was surrounded by the ones I loved, I still felt as if this world was doing everything it could to bring me to the floor. We all have felt this way at some point and for some, it can be hard to get back up. But sometimes, when we are too focused to look up from the ground, God can be speaking into the hearts of others, telling them to lift us up. As I laid there, He did just that. The next day, a woman I had stayed with in the hotel came up to me. She had joy in her eyes and faith on her lips. I pray that you (yes, you) get to encounter someone rare like that. We were getting ready for the evening service and she pulled me aside and sat me down. She looked me in the eye, "God is so pleased with you. Tonight, don't hold back any longer. He's going to take you deeper than you have ever been. The things you have said inspired me and I need you to stop doubting yourself." That night, lives were changed. Everyone came back with a greater heart for God. It started with prayer at the alter. I found myself whispering “I’m just not worthy of Your love. How could I ever possibly receive it, God? How can I be enough?”, and I heard a friend of mine repeat the words, “She is.” Those two words were words of assurance. Honestly, I’m not sure who he was talking about; it could be me or anyone else in that room, but I knew one thing: In a room filled with noise, God spoke to my whispers. He pushed His way past all the sound and reached through to someone who was barely audible, even if you had your ear against her mouth. God wasn't finished. After the sermon, we had worship and ended the night with prayer. A palm outstretched on my upper back as I prayed heavy prayers, but the words spoken in my ear drowned out everything else. "Let her feel accepted. Bring her that acceptance and the assurance that she is loved, that she is enough." I heard exactly what I had been needing to hear. The word acceptance was repeated, sounding more beautiful every time being spoken. Then, acceptance made it's way into my life. God had used three events to touch my heart. He cared so much to assure His child that He was a loving God with plenty to offer. He chooses to go the extra mile for His children. Acceptance was there all along. God was trying to show me that, but I didn’t listen. Instead, I put up this blockade that separated me from the links that connected me to the love of the rest of the world. I was imprisoned, trying to find ways to escape when all along, I was the jailer. I was trying to mend everyone else’s wounds, when I had injuries of my own. I spent my time trying to find ways to spread love onto others, when I needed to show myself that affection, too. So often we forget that, we too, are people that need to be loved and cared for. Acceptance was right in front of me this whole time, I was just searching in the wrong places. Our identities are so often found in areas that they should not be. We choose to place them in people, places, and things; while all three are guaranteed to break us. We seek acceptance and genuine lives, but where do we look? We look in areas like our past, when God wants our futures. Our identities in Christ need to be our focus point. To find these identities, we need to be humble; we need to be genuine; we need to be honest with God, even if it means that we are not perfect. Identity is madness; it is authentic; it is beautiful. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come. The old has gone, the new is here. All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. - 2 Corinthians 5: 17-19
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April 2016
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