There is an incongruent curve in the carved shape of me. An indention chipped from finite imperfection cloaked as perfection. A masquerade artistically choregraphed out of lies. Inching along this tightrope will lead to my demise. The choice is mine, to sandblast past façade to imperfection below. The glorious groove of grace and growth unearthed in genuine honesty of self. I can no longer walk this fault line praying the tectonic plates won’t shift. I used to adhere to the adage, “I’ll fake it until I make it!” A catastrophic lie. The truth: I’m making it, thriving it, surviving it, believing it, living it each moment I draw breath. My circumstances, emotional state, or mood do not represent my success or failure. I release the crutch of these words and accept my journey as a powerful wonderful painful unsure thing.
I embrace my limitations, my emotions, my sensitivity, my heartbeat for others. Just because a feeling doesn’t feel good doesn’t mean it is bad or not worth feeling. I choose to feel each part of life deeply. I want to wrap myself up in presence. I always want beautiful honesty in my life. I have bad days; sorrowful broken things that they are. I don’t like them anymore than the next person. I don’t appreciate my emotions having me. Yet, I’m a creation of a million nerve endings. I feel deeply and cannot do service living. A mask stripped might lead to rejection, but this fractured face is authentic. I choose to reveal the tragedy.
“My hope, each day as I grow older, is that this will never be simply chronological aging – which is a nuisance and frequently a bore… but that I will also grow into maturity, where the experience which can be acquired only through chronology will teach me how to be more aware, open, unafraid to be vulnerable, involved, committed, to accept disagreement without feeling threatened… to understand that I cannot take myself seriously until I stop taking myself seriously – to be, in fact, a true adult.” – Madeleine L’Engle
Sometimes I want to walk away from my faith. Stick my fingers in my ears like a petulant child and turn in the opposite direction, “not today God, not today!” He can shatter me into pieces and rebuild from my brokenness, always leaving more space for Him. He is a centrifugal force I’m still drawn to. Sometimes He meets me in the driveway, arms outstretched, after one of my benders with folly. Sometimes He blocks the path cutting me off from less wild lovers, more importantly, cutting them off from me. He rescues. He renews. He understands the madness going on within my brain. He is one of the few that can navigate the innerworkings of my mind. He confronts me. A hand extends pressure under my chin upturning my face. I can swim in His sovereign depths for hours.
There is always reward in failure. A humbling solidity that tethers one to self and to sovereignty. There is true complexity to the Christian faith. It has been simplified, watered down, saccharine logged and lost much of its dangerous mystery. A mystery I’m seeking to dive deeply into.
I will no longer attempt to hold myself together; be the quiet civil appropriate woman expected. I want more. These lungs only expand and contract so many times. This lively beating heart that skips like a school girl’s when her crush walks into the room will eventually slow to nothing. There is a readiness in me to release my life completely into His arms. I’m longing for HOME.
So, I’m letting go of the fake in all facets of my broken life. I’m acknowledging past pains I’ve caused and that have been caused to me. Yet, I’m holding them loosely. They will not define the future. I will expect great things. I’ll live in wonder and joy. I’ll work hard and continue to grow outside my confines. I’ll know miracles can happen and magic still stirs the soul to wonder. The impossible is possible. I won’t try to keep a happy face on when tears are desperate to leach the pain. I’ll make a fool of myself, get over myself, and find myself in Him.
I have this need to ruffle a few feathers. I want to kiss a boy, take an archery class, practice my voice lessons, get an article published in Bella Grace, bare my soul to someone, laugh until my ribs ache while eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, and fall into the breathtaking salvation of Jesus.
I was reading Hebrew 4 last night. It is interesting, this invitation to enter in His rest. Jesus rested. He received rest, invited & accepted invitations to rest. He slept in the midst of storms and brought life from rest (death). We can enter into His rest. A choice to join Him, in obedience, in everything He is doing. It is our choice to accept salvation. I love how the book of Hebrews imbues the word rest with the meaning of salvation. Dare I say, if we don’t rest in Him we are separated from Him. Oh, what a tragedy! After reflecting on salvation’s rest and invitation, again and again, Hebrews 4 says this:
“Let us enter His perfect rest and not seek our own demise brought on by disobedience. The living Word of God is sharper than a two-edged sword. It cuts between soul and spirit, joint and marrow…nothing is hidden from Him. Our High Priest understands all of our weaknesses. He was tempted, but did not fall into sin. We can walk boldly into the throne room of God by the blood of Jesus when we receive salvation’s rest. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most.” – Hebrews 4: 11&12/15&16 (paraphrased)
The lie that “faking it until we make it” tells us is we are deficient until we are perfect. What scripture tells us is that Jesus understands all of our weaknesses & we can still enter His throne room knowing He will offer what we need with love and compassion. There is no ‘fake’ in the Kingdom of God. There is a lot of fake in this world. I’m peeling back layers and I actually like what I’m seeing. Am I mess? Yes. But, that mess is freaking breathtaking!!
Reflection of Providence 