To Tell A Story

Rejection is my story. Insecurity is my struggle.

One day I would hope to write a book on how rejection and insecurity can be demolished in Jesus’ name. But first, I have to live it.

To tell a personal story one must have courage. I haven’t arrived there yet. My fears and anxieties have taken such a hold on me that even writing my hurts down on a blog that I know no one is reading seems way to vulnerable.

I know that I have a narrative within me but I am too afraid to bring it out. Because of this, I can’t make sense of it, I can’t process it and I definitely can’t share it. So it stays hidden. Deep in my soul where my pride and dignity take turns stomping it further into the pit of my gut. I  know that if I don’t allow my Savior to mend the pain of my broken, rejected and insecure heart, I will never be able to bloom in the way that God intends for me to.

I can’t stay here.

I want to say that I know the grass will be greener on the other side, but I was reminded of a statement that claims “the grass is greener where you water it”. Could this be true for me? Am I too sold out on what complete healing looks like that I have undervalued the beauty of the process to get there. The time for me to fall in love with Jesus and truly allow Him to be the redeemer of my soul. I’ve idolized the end result. After all, who has time to walk through an unexplored wilderness of self-doubt, deep rooted anxieties, and never ending fears? I want the testimony, the completed story, the signs of an unbreakable relationship with my Savior, and the healing. I want the book.

I love raising my hands in church. I tend to be a bit more sheepish in the small baptist church that I attend, but if you throw me in the right setting, with dimmed lights, loud music and complete strangers; this girl will worship.

Or at least try to.

Because the truth is, there is something keeping me from going all the way in with worship. When I want to just let go and focus on the King with a true heart of gratitude, amazement, love and awe, something blocks me.

“Are people looking at me?”

“I hope they think I’m holy”.

“Maybe they think I’m too holy”.

“I hope I don’t look radical”.

“What am I eating for lunch?”

The thoughts explode in my mind. I’m sure I am not the only one who struggles with this type of worship, but I also know that this distracted type of worship can only be the result of someone who has not fully given herself over to Christ.

To tell a story takes courage.

To give it to God takes steady patience and a whole lot of faith.

 

 

Much love,

Whit

 

 

 

 

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