I’ve started blogs before but I’ve never followed through on keeping up with them. I think one of the reasons was my lack of transparency. I have an ideal for who I want to be and it’s easy to try and put that down on paper (or on a blog) and get lost in the idea of projecting yourself as someone you want to be rather than someone you are. I’m done with that. Through loss and brokenness and feeling like my paradigm not only shifted, but shattered, I’ve lost the drive that is needed in order to want to be someone and am just willing to be who I am and who God is making me, that’s all I have the strength to be in this life time.
I’ve thought about my testimony a lot in the past few months. Pondering what I would tell someone if they asked for my story is really what got me started with that line of thinking. I don’t know what my story is. It changes constantly, day by day, sometimes hour by hour. The major themes and ideas and beliefs that I live by are in a constant upheaval and I feel lost in the mess of it all, so how do you explain that to someone?
The person I was a year ago is someone I never want to become again, yet that very person was the one that, for four years I strived to be. What changed? “Who I am hates who I‘ve been” Oh Relient K, band of my youth, thank you for putting into words the very sentiments of my heart. I hate who I’ve been, but I am comfortable with who I am, something I’ve never been able to truthfully say. Comfortable to me draws up negative emotion and makes me think, ‘apathy‘ ‘hard-hearted‘ ‘selfish‘ ‘backslidden‘ ‘lukewarm‘. But that is not the definition that I’m choosing to apply tonight. The comfort I speak of is something that has taken almost a year to find and I’m barely on the edge of touching it. It’s a comfort that illustrates a child in her Father’s lap. A dirty little child with open wounds and blood stained tattered clothes. One whom was unable to attain the strength necessary to climb into His lap, but that he drew up with His gentle hands and He holds as if He’d do anything just to be with her. That’s where I draw my definition of comfort. I’m not okay with who I am right now, who I’ve been, what I might become, but the one Who’s thoughts are higher than mine and who created the lungs that I breathe with is okay with who I am and delights in who I am becoming and for that very reason I am able to live another day, take another step, dust off my dirty clothes and walk hand in hand with my maker in this very broken world.
That is my story.
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