I Am My Own Best Counsel

Just reading old blogs that I haven't touched in months, and there they are: the words I have been stuttering out over the last few weeks as I have sorted through this mess to find some answers. All my brilliance, all the thoughts that it took all my energy to dredge up were already here in black and white, right under my nose. At least now I know I am on the right track.

I have a big decision to make, bigger than other ones I thought were big. I have been offered a good job, the one I want, and my chest tightens every time I think about it. If I take it, I might burn out and never recover (hello, Fear! You've been MIA lately); if I don't take it, then it'll screw me out of a job in the fall, the job I really really want. I feel...trapped. AHHA! Oh self-illumination, you've done it again. I feel trapped. I do not feel free to make a decision because both feel like the wrong one. Is there another one? Is there something in between, or something so far outside the box that it makes these look like twin suckers? 

Leanne, you have to make a decision. This is your life, and you're never waking up.

Ride Out the Wave

I am afraid of myself and the things I still carry with me against my will. I am afraid of the insecurities that drive me to commit ridiculous faux pas. I am afraid of my subconscious efforts at sabotage. I am afraid that I am not strong enough to be the woman I want to be. In that case, thank God for...well, God. I, on my own, by my pitiful self, am not big enough or strong enough or self-controlled enough to prevail over my flesh. But Christ in me? He reigns. And when He is not reigning, I know there are things between myself and Him that need to change, not between myself and others.

I have an extremely good thing going here, and I just cried myself silly thinking I am going to wreck it out of my own stupidity. But! If I surrender every thought and every action and every desire to the One to whom I attempt to give control, then there is no failure; failure for my hoped outcome perhaps, but not failure in His eyes. Thank goodness for the but.

The more I focus on Him, the easier this will be. Come on, Leanne. Grow up, delve in, be the woman of God He has called you to be. No excuses, no regrets.

There is nothing scarier than the empty hanging of a heart on the line.

Broken Lights on the Freeway

This could be the way I am for the rest of my life.

I want to be that strong person again. It's all selfish; I want to be admired, praised, commended. Instead He is leaving me in a place of absolute humility. I am down on the floor and cannot feel Him at all.

I don't want to have to be strong anymore. Not really. It's so much effort to keep my head up, hold the tears back and hide the words screaming to be let out.

So then it comes down to fear. Today I could not stay in my class for the last hour because I could not hold back the tears. I was a mess. Without strength there is fear. So am I more afraid of becoming a dazzling statue again - the kind that is rock solid marble, cold and hard and without life; the immovable dead - or of what people might say and do if I just start crying in the middle of Senior Seminar?

It's confession time. Every day, the pull that is Overwhelm staggers closer and closer until I can feel him beneath my feet, in my lungs, over my head. He comes on painfully slow, but I cannot bring myself to move. If I let myself get caught up completely, I am finished; there will not be a person in this body to resurrect again.

I am doing everything I can. I sleep more. I eat more. I read my Bible more. I talk less and listen more. I don't get bogged down by stress. I have hope in the things that are sure. ...And guess what? I am still not okay.

This could be the way I am for the rest of my life.

The Biggest Question of Life

This will probably be my hardest blog yet. It is the expressed version of an epiphany I had just a little while ago, and it's taken my life and heart by storm. That is why I have to get it out. I've found that I have all these crazy thoughts and emotions constantly bouncing around in my head, and they need a place of release. If I try to hold them in, even for my own sake, I end up falling apart instead.

The question that is currently rocking my soul:

Am I lovely?

Growing up, Lovely was a nickname given to me by my mom. I don't know where she got it from, why she deemed me worthy of it, or if she ever questioned her judgement. And until this moment, I have never thought to ask her any of these things. So from the time that I was very small, I always had this word lovingly thrown upon me, but I never knew if it were actually true. And it didn't occur to me that this was underlying until only a few weeks ago.

Someone was telling me a story about something (as you can tell, I was obviously paying so much attention; I'm sure I would have remembered it all if a certain point hadn't completely stopped my heart). The point of the story, by the end, was that whoever was being talked about finally realized that the problem God was working out in her life rooted in a simple question: Am I lovely? And without even knowing why, I started to cry. And I couldn't stop.

So I guess this is my deep-rooted hurt. The thing inside me that tears apart my self-confidence even as I walk through my day unaware? It's the secret part of me, deep inside, that wonders if I have worth. And somehow I've grown up with the notion that worth comes from beauty.

This thought, while seeming foolish, has never been negated. Every past boyfriend I've ever had started having feelings for me because I was hot, then for my personality...if he ever decided to find out if I had one. I have never in all my life had a guy love me for me, and then appreciate how I look.

So somehow, through this skewed view and my own insecurities, I became hopelessly addicted to compliments and attention. Although I'm (mostly) over it now, that part of my past still haunts me. What is it that makes me special? What is it that makes me worthy of love?

The hugest part of me has always been asking this question, even though I never admitted it to myself: if I did not look the way I do, would anyone care to get to know me for who I am inside? And, if they took that crazy leap and decided to try, would they find anything worth loving once they dug around a bit? The most insecure part of me wonders if anyone would love me at all.

So here comes the dilemma. I know I am beautiful in God's sight, made in His image, and He loves me unconditionally. But (I know, why does there have to be a but? Yet somehow there is), to everyone else in the world, am I lovely? If you strip away all my physical attributes and are left with only the insides, is there anything redeeming remaining? Is my character that of someone who can be loved for exactly who they are, or do I need the supporting elements of my physical extremities?

And here I stand at a crossroads. Not knowing if all my twenty years summed up is enough to make someone stay, I sit here and wonder if I'll ever find out. No one has ever stayed...but maybe that's just because they weren't meant to. Maybe God has bigger plans beyond those too shallow to look beneath the surface. Unless they did, and that's what drove them away. And the list of insecurities continues.

I have a feeling I'm only going in never-ending circles now, so I'll wrap it up.

I'm waiting on the person who can come along, see what God sees in me, and love me for who I am. Even when I'm old, wrinkled, and have lost all signs of youth. And then, standing in front of him with my laughter-etched skin and gray hair, I'll look deep into his eyes and ask: "Am I lovely?" And then he'll smile, and I'll know when he says "Yes" that he means it with every heartbeat.

Turning on the Tap

The concept of "fear of God" has always eluded me. I was brought up in typical modern-Christianese fashion, which states that Jesus is my best friend, he would never let anything bad happen to me, and life with him means a life devoid of fear. What changed us to be these people who have lost any respect for a God so much bigger than anything we could imagine or comprehend?

Going through life in the church only taught me one thing: God loves me. That's a pretty loaded statement. Do we realize what his love for us means? Obviously we have no clue. God: creator of the heavens above and of the earth we stand on, breath-maker, one who encompasses what it means to be good and holy and righteous, father who ordains every heartbeat. He LOVES me. Me. Creator of nothing but sinful thoughts and actions, gap-maker, one who encompasses all that it means to be prideful and self-seeking and stubborn, child who takes every second for granted. The God of the universe loves me. Unthinkable.

And going through this experience of growing up in the church, yet not understanding the full truth of what it means to be loved by God, I have fallen short on taking in the fact that I should hold God in the most amazed awe. He is awesome! He is powerful! He is wondrous! Yet all these human, English words fail to do him justice by a long shot. There is no word on this planet to describe the majesty of our God or the ways in which he works. I think that if we had any idea, we would be scared, literally, to death.

Fear of God is holy reverence, to revere him above all else.

Genesis 31:42 refers to our God as "the fear of Isaac." Here is a man who is so blessed by God, who is being given so many good promises and awesome things, and he knows the honour that his heavenly father is due.

I wonder what God would have to do to make it clear to us that he is worthy of our fear. Yes, he is my best friend. Yes, he loves me and has great mercy and compassion on my life. But no, this does not mean that I can take his tremendous power for granted.

I want to learn what it means to fear God, to live my life as a holy, living sacrifice to him. What would that look like? How much of this world would he be able to affect through me? I can't wait to find out.