I wish I had a reason behind why I haven’t written in such a long time. I wish I could say it was because the Lord has been working in me and I just needed space to process, but that would not be true. He has been working, but my not sharing has been a mere function of my own procrastination. I won’t peg that on anything else.
Yet here I am. Grown in many ways, and aware that the only way I can be consistent with Jars is by having God as the Centre of my work. I think at some point I was only blogging for blog’s sake, to feel like I was doing something new and different and innovating, something that made me feel like I was worth something… Evidently kind of motivation doesn’t really take one very far.
The past couple of months, though, have been difficult, because perhaps more than ever, I plunged into the deepest levels of self loathing. It’s been hard; I’ve had countless moments where I have doubted myself and my abilities, and it’s been more feelings of unworthiness, self-questioning, wondering, seeking, not seeking, covetousness, Pinterest-ness, wishing-I-were-lighter ness, I HATE THIS HAIR CAN I JUST CHOP IT OFF-ness, than I have ever known.
The funny thing, though, is that I found myself intentionally feeding my self-deprecation. Instead of working on who I am, and where I’m going, I’ve spent more time watching other people’s virtual lives and comparing my realities with their edited pictures. You’re reading this and I know you can relate with this. And you know what else is true?
It feels good.
You have to admit it: It feels…nice. It gets comfortable and starts to feel good when others seem better, prettier, more hardworking, smarter, more… It feels good hating yourself and that’s why you plunge deeper. It feels terrible. But it feels good at the same time. It’s that thing you don’t want to do, but you just want to do. And you kind of just wallow in this dark hole of uncertainty over who you really are, wondering what’s so special, that you sit on everything that you are. And it’s comfortable because there’s nothing you’re accountable for.
Basically I realized I’ve been the third servant. The Lord has given me talents and I’ve buried them, waiting for Him to arrive and be like, ‘Father, you gave me a voice to sing, and I didn’t sing, because what greater joy would it be to lead worship in heaven instead, yes?” And like that, I miss my “Well done.”
This is a post for you who, like me, has spent the past two hours, watching videos of make-up tutorials and listening to music covers and spoken word poetry and reading nayirrah waheed and warshan shire. This is for you who is constantly checking your Facebook just so you can go on an even longer spree of looking at pictures of spring breaks spent in Bermuda and summers at the heart of Martha’s Vineyard. This is for you who, like me, is burning inside with so much to give, but won’t go on stage, to the field, to the pool, won’t take that class, because you want to blend in, in case you’re not good enough.
He is risen.
Which means, this stopped being about you a long time ago.
I’m having to wake up to the reality that the antidote to a low self-esteem is not so much reassurance of your self-worth, but of understanding how the ressurection transforms the meaning of life in the first place. It changes the motivation behind my choices, my stewardship of the gifts He bestowed on me, my work ethic, my relationships. It shifts the center of my striving from my own acceptance of myself and the approval of others, to a larger than life truth – that the Lord is greater than my insecurity. Don’t get me wrong: there is a place for encouragement in the kingdom, for the constant reminder of your place in the kingdom as a son. It’s the encouragement that heals me. But the same voice that frees me from myself, is the voice that says, Get up, take your mat and walk. And in this moment, the slightest obstruction of His will by my own self-centered doubtfulness must be completely obliterated.
The King of kings died, and so must I. He rose again, so everything I have within me ought to give Him the glory, and point others to the true source of worth and honor. Definitely not ourselves. Woosah.