The enemy knows that he can get me with regret. He knows that he can make my heart hurt with the things that I have said and done and thought. He uses it to get to me in the dark of night when my mind takes me back to those places. And on the nights when I'm alone in my room. And on the nights that one of the babies is sick. And on the nights that I'm lonely and sad. And on the nights that I'm scared to death about what comes next. And then someone will text me or I'll look up and see a picture of a friend who loves me or I'll happen to check a blog that speaks to me (which, by the way, was Ellyn's blog tonight. Wow). The enemy cannot defeat me. He knows how to get me, but I'm cherished by a God more powerful than him. He knows where I hurt, but it doesn't matter, because so does my Jesus. My Jesus died on a cross for me. He died on a cross for my pain and my sin. Mine. And there is absolutely nothing that anyone can do to take that away. So no matter how much it hurts to be reminded of the things that I regret, it's a million times better to be reminded that I've been forgiven for them by my Creator. Take that.
August 24, 2009
Regret is my biggest enemy. I don't know why it is that I can remember every single thing that I have ever done wrong in my entire life. In seventh grade, there was this boy that I liked. One day, I hugged him. The end. I can remember things as far back as second grade that embarrassed me. Things that I regret. And then there are the big ones. There are things that have happened in the past 12 months that I regret more than anything that has ever happened in my life. It's a constant nagging in my soul. A constant "told you so". So many people told me not to do it. I think I needed to in a way. I just wish it didn't hurt so much.
August 22, 2009
I couldn't begin to count the number of times in my life when I have felt or been told that I was not good enough. Dance classes, soccer and basketball games, the cafeteria at school, church, graduation day, the dorms, chapel, Bible classes, and other every day events. I don't know where this feeling came from. I've spent enough time in therapy over the years to be aware that everything I feel and believe now came from a comment or experience from my past. But that's not important here.
"By the grace of God, I am what I am" - 1 Corinthians 15:10
But am I good enough? I've always struggled with feelings of inferiority. I'll never be as skinny or pretty as the girl next to me. I'll never be able to paint or sing or dance as well as someone else. I'm constantly comparing myself to others. I'm conscious of what others are thinking about me. And in my head, it's always negative. My friends never want me around. Boys think I'm fat and ugly. The adults at church know I'm not "good enough" to be there.
I find value in negative situations because it makes me feel good enough. And I know that is ridiculous.
This morning in the devotional, we sang Here In This Place. I love that song. I don't know if I loved it before this morning, but I love it now.
Lay your burdens down
Every care you carry,
And come to the table of grace,
For there is mercy.
Come just as you are,
We are all unworthy
To enter the presence of God
For He is Holy.
Lift up your heart, lift up your hands
Fall on your knees and pray,
For the King of kings and the love He brings
Is here in this place.
We raise our voices, raise our song,
We offer Him out praise
For the King of kings and the joy He brings
Is here, He is here in this place.
Isn't that awesome? I love it. Two sweet women that I appreciate and love have gently reminded me recently that we're not good enough. We're not good enough for God to love or even look at. But the grace of the blood of Jesus Christ on the cross covers us. So maybe I'm not pretty enough or skinny enough. And maybe my dancing will never make anyone happy besides myself. And that's okay. Because the blood of my Savior covers me. And His Spirit fills me. And that is good enough.
August 12, 2009
The more that I think about it, the more ironic it becomes that I've started running this summer. It's not necessarily ironic in the haha that's funny kind of way. It's more of an I run away from everything but this time I can't so I'm actually physically running kind of way. I have a history of running away when things get tough. I've decided more than once that it was easier to stop talking to someone than to work through things with them. I run away from difficult situations. I run from awkward situations. I always run away. And this time, I would love to run away more than anything else. But I can't. Because that would mean transferring...an idea that I am not particularly fond of. I'm finally content with where I am (see this post) and I hate the thought of giving it all up because of it. This is one thing that I can't run away from. It's making me physically sick to think about what will happen when the encounter actually occurs. I can't breathe. I get nauseous. I want to run away more than anything else. But running away this time would mean giving up everything else. So I run. Physically run. This summer, I started running. This summer, when it became apparent to me that I would have to face one of the most difficult challenges thus far, I started running. My feet pound on the treadmill. I can't run fast enough to get away from the thoughts swirling in my mind. I run fast but go nowhere. I cant run away, and so I run. Ironic.