I am who You say I am

I hear what You’re telling me.

I see You showing up for me.

I feel You moving in my heart.

I hear Your voice in hers when she tells me to see myself the way You see me.

I see Your smile when he tells me something looks different – like I look lighter.

I feel Your warmth when I pray honestly and messily to you, and my face flushes and my hands loosen their grip.

It’s been so good, guys.

It’s been hard. It’s been irritable and messy and definitely a little sensitive, but it’s been so good. This week, I hear what You’ve been trying to tell me.

I’ve been saved, I’ve been baptized, and I’ve intentionally pursued You. That’s all I’ve needed to do, right? I mean I’ve thrown my hands in the air and asked You to refine me. I’ve asked you to make me the most useful tool in Your tool belt, and once You started, I asked You to stop. Big surprise, You didn’t.

I’ve been going through the motions of millennial Christianity. Identify unhealthy patterns, acknowledge toxic coping mechanisms, repent, repent, repent, definitely don’t forget to repent. Until this week, I was under the impression that I was fully committed to Christ – and it’s not that I haven’t been, but I didn’t have a good understanding of what “fully committed” meant.

When I reflect on Charlotte of seasons past, I get really sad.

I used to harbor a lot of resentment towards myself, I’d even go as far as calling it hatred.

I hated the chameleon skin I used to try to be palatable to the people I wanted to impress.

I hated the idea I had that my body represented my worth, not my heart or my mind.

I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but hatred shifted to sadness.

It makes me sad that I genuinely thought that the way I was treated was a direct reflection of my value as a human being.

So I unpacked some of the mess, and came to terms with the fact that I am valuable now, which could only mean that I was valuable then. Once I made it here, I patted myself on the back and called it self-love.

Hindsight is 20/20 y’all and that’s not self-love.

I know my worth, right? I know that I am surrounded by people who love me and encourage me and affirm me. So if I know my worth, why am I feeling so messy? If I trust You, why don’t I actually trust You? If You are in control, why am I putting up a fight to take it?

Is it fear? Not entirely

Is it distrust? Only a little bit

Is it self-sabotage? Bingo

Okay, but why?

 

You spoke to me this week.

I was in my café doing homework, and You sat down across from me.

We talked about understanding emotions and not knowing how to let go. This is something I’ve never really had a good grasp of, because I’m not sure if I’ve ever let anything go. We’ve talked about this before, I let years pass while wounds close and pain lessens. I just wait it out.

She struggled to keep her eyes open because the sun was setting and it had just gotten low enough to hit her directly, but You made sure she didn’t budge because You had something to say.

I told her that I can pull out this baggage – my emotions and my memories – and I can acknowledge them and accept them for what they are, and understand why they’re there, but I just get stuck when I tell them it’s time to go.

I can’t put them to death, I can’t just leave them with Jesus, because every time I try, I find them back in my heart tucked away the dark.

Her eyes were so blue and so beautiful and focused directly on me when she said that I’m not expected to put them to death, I’m expected to nurture them and love them.

I knew when she said it that I saw You. You were right in front of me, I saw You in her eyes. You made sure that I saw You, and You made absolutely sure that I heard You.

Last week, my pastor said in his sermon that we should imagine a God who actually knows us – who made us, who sees us, who loves us – and to imagine that He made us intentionally and carefully. And to even go as far as to imagine that there is a God who has a greater purpose for us, that because of all of these things – we have purpose, every single one of us.

Ok cool, so what do I do with this? Rationalize it.

If He is who He says He is, that can only mean that I am exactly who He says I am.

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe that You’re God, but I didn’t believe that I am who You say I am.

I can’t hate my insecurities, my missteps or my fragile and vulnerable parts. I need to show them compassion and show them grace, because if You love every piece of me, then I should too. My insecurities cause self-sabotage, and man do I self-sabotage my way through life. Playing it safe means avoiding opportunity, because opportunity means vulnerability. Vulnerability means letting others see who I really am from all angles. It means trying my hardest and hoping it’s enough. I always come back to wanting to be enough, and the consuming fear that I’m not. What do You tell me? That I am enough. But it’s so much easier to miss opportunities than it is to try my hardest and do everything I can just to fall short and fuck up.

So what have we learned this week?

You want me to take the opportunities You give me. You want to celebrate my wins with me, and nurture me when I fall. You want me to know that when I fall, You’ll help me pick up the pieces. You want me to know that even though people leave, You aren’t going anywhere. You want me to see that my worth isn’t determined by the way people treat me, it’s already written. I am Yours.

This isn’t the time to pat myself on the back and call it self-love. This isn’t the bandaid that remedies the root of the problem. This is where I start.