I wonder who you are

I wonder how you found yourself here. I wonder why you’re back, and I wonder if you’ll stay.

I wonder what you think of me. Actually, I’m scared of what you think of me. Vulnerability means a lot of things, but to me it means showing you my heart – whoever you may be.

It’s been a while since I’ve found myself here, with my heart in my trembling hands. I’ve been avoiding you, you know. I like that you’re here, that you’re listening, and that you care. It makes me uncomfortable to share that with you, but I’m learning that Jesus does some pretty powerful and restorative work in the midst of discomfort.

Here are some things that I know to be true today that I didn’t know a year ago:

• I didn’t know I could say his name and that it wouldn’t hurt
• I didn’t know that excitement and fear speak the same language
• I didn’t know that I’d lose my cat
• I didn’t know You’d show me grace this good
• I didn’t know You were this good
  • You are so good to me
• I didn’t know that You would really show up when I stopped pretending that You didn’t know what I didn’t want to share with You
• I didn’t know that it was so hard to trust You
  • It’s really fucking hard to trust You
  • The shame in saying that weighs heavy
• I didn’t know that life would look like this
• I didn’t know that I’d be seen or heard
  • I didn’t know that I spent a lot of time not wanting to be seen or heard
• I definitely didn’t know what to say when I realized people wanted to listen
• I didn’t know I would have friends like this
  • I thank God every single day for giving me the friends I have
• I didn’t know there was this much work to do
• I didn’t know how much hurt there is to sift through
• I didn’t know I’d find the perfect house and that I’d move out of mine
• I didn’t know I’d choose to invest in myself because You invested in me

I’ve learned that real fear is found within the calm before the storm. I’ve learned that the storm will come again right as the last one ends. I’ve learned that vulnerability, I mean real vulnerability, is fucking hard.

I’ve learned a lot about myself.

I didn’t know I was so guarded. Guarded from the people who love me. Guarded from the people who share their most intimate suffering with me. Guarded from You.

You used the people who love me to show me where I need to heal. You gave me the gift of community. True community. What an immense blessing to receive, right? I’m so undeserving, but so unbelievably blessed. You chipped away at that wall until You knocked it down.

I’ve learned that “best friend” isn’t a person, rather a tier of friendship.

I’ve learned that a few drinks can facilitate life-giving conversation, and create deeper and more intentional relationships. You chipped away at another wall. You eventually knocked it down.

I’ve learned that my body is a gift. I’ve learned that where shame used to live, grace has taken its place. I no longer blame myself for what he chose to do because choice wasn’t an option for me. I cursed the scars I spent summers trying to hide, and He kissed them. He tore that fucking wall down and told me I am blessed.

I spent time with Jesus reflecting on moments in my life when I didn’t know Him. I asked Him to show me where He was, and He did. I bowed my head in shame, and He blessed me.

I fall to my knees in front of a Savior who chooses me every day. I weep at the feet of a King who loves me with reckless abandon. I ask for forgiveness, and He grants it without hesitation. He reminds me every single day that I am forgiven, not forsaken and that His mercies are new every morning.

I told You that I wanted to surrender fully, that sin and shame no longer had control over my life. What I didn’t realize was that walls that took years to build do not fall in a single breath. This is where the real work began. This is a fight I didn’t want to put up, but it’s instinctual. Self-sabotage is innate, and is manipulative and masks itself as self-care. Fighting yourself is so fucking hard, because I thought we both wanted the same thing?

He’s extended me more grace in six months then I think I should be given in an entire lifetime. I say I’m unworthy, and He sings truth over me. I retreat and try to hide, but He’s already there waiting to forgive me. I try to run, but He always beats me there.

I’ve learned that in every moment of suffering in my life, Jesus is already there. He’s in every moment I fear, every moment I can’t wait for, and every moment in between. He’s in the first cup of coffee I drink in the morning, in Kate’s long hugs and in the last sigh I let out before I fall asleep. He’s in the rain pounding down on my cracked windshield, in the words of the songs that reach my heart, and in the eyes of strangers who see me – the ones who really see me.

My life is changing with the seasons, and I’m walking into a season of rejoice.

I’m moving, I’m changing my career path, my school, and I’m absolutely fucking terrified because I have no idea what to expect. Remember what I said though? Fear and excitement speak the same language.

I don’t know a lot but I do know this: Everything that happens to me is from Him, and everything from Him is good. This is true for you too, my friends. If you ask Him to find you, He will every single time. There is purpose in every moment, and every moment spent intentionally to glorify Him makes Him proud. All I want is to make Him proud.

I hope I can look at this a year from now and tell you what I didn’t know to be true then.  I hope you find yourself somewhere in my walk with Christ. I hope you found what you were looking for. If you’re just passing through or here for the long haul, I’m just happy you stopped by.