Finding My Pieces
Each devastation was confirmation of my secret insecurity. I wasn’t worthy to be loved. I fell in love with my favorite poison: self-doubt. You were my favorite lover. My personal reminder of all the things I could never be. The craziest thing happened when I dared to fall in love with grace.
I felt the fight I once reserved for the next text, the fuel I stored for the next heartbreak, and dared to love me. I wish I could pinpoint the steps. I wish I could go back in time and tell you how I changed my mind. I just know that I decided my insecurity had spent too long on stage. I planted seeds of love where I once sowed hate. I stopped allowing my pride to feed me my lines.
The confusing part of owning your truth is fearing that people will say you’re being prideful or that making peace with your past means you’re not sorry it occurred. How long do we want people to carry their sentence? How many years do you hold your head down in the face of grace? I just wonder if our greatest disservice to God is refusing the strength of His grace and mercy. Perhaps we throw stones too soon and speak love too late. Maybe they don’t believe that our God is so loving because so many of us aren’t. We hardly ever admit the difficulty we have with loving ourselves not to mention loving others. It should make us more compassionate, instead we become obsessed with whispering of other’s failures. We hardly ever realize how loud a whisper is until we hear our name.
Are we as compassionate as the Shepherd who left the ninety-nine to seek one sheep?
Centuries later our gentle shepherds are frequently mistaken for a lynch mob. Maybe we can’t win any souls because we can’t agree. One has to wonder why we insist on placing so many boundaries on whom God can use. If they don’t come packaged in the way we like we dismiss them altogether. But what if God knew that Christ would have to break two fish and five loaves of bread and feed five thousand? What if He knew that centuries later He would feed millions upon millions? Those looking on the outside would say, “There’s no way He can feed those people with what He has to work with.” Just like they’ll try to convince you that God can’t use a high school dropout. Or time will convince you that you’ve been wrong too long to ever repair the damage. Life will convince you that you no longer deserve pure love because of your dirty past. My father once preached that the blessing was in the breaking of the fish and bread. Some of us are breaking miracles. We remind the world that even the broken can be used.
He preached the message before I was a divorcee.
Here I am broken to serve His people again. There’s a secret on the other side of shame. On my journey I’m learning that falling in love with me has less to do with how much I display the good in my heart and more to do with how I combat the shame. For some of us loving God can’t be achieved until we are willing to be courageously broken. My method may not be the one it took for you, but I’m so clear that His hand is blessing my brokenness. The weight of it humbles me each day. I’m grateful for every moment and opportunity that I’m used in spite of my fragile humanity.
I’m learning to be okay with getting it wrong.
I’m learning, again, to not allow shame to give me a sentence grace covered.
Dear God,
I really don’t want to mess
this up. I don’t want to be misdirected. Help me to hear You so clearly
that I don’t mistake Your voice for the mobs that come to distract me. I
thirst to be so in tune with Your vision and in line with Your orders
that fear has no time to reign over me. Help me to no longer fall in
love with my insecurity while being blinded to Your strength. I know
You’re helping me embrace my story and to shine a light on so many of
our fears. I’m grateful for Your trust in me. I see now why You gave me
everything I wanted and protected me while I learned it wasn’t what I
needed.
Signed,
Finding My Pieces
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