approved.

I don't think it's a big secret that my biggest struggle has been to love myself completely. And not just the person I see in the mirror, but who that person is on the inside. I can vividly remember instances at even a young age feeling this huge weight upon me, at times it was unbearable and simply just THERE. Of course when you're 6 or 7 you don't know why you feel this, you don't know how to pinpoint this boiling emotion inside you, but it churns in your belly and courses through your brain and it's confusing and uncomfortable. As I grew I remember being able to identify what I was feeling like and giving them a name: Kelly was a disappointment, a failure, Kelly was someone who lacked stand up character and what not. I'll preface this by saying as far as kids went, I was pretty lovely. I did well in school, was kind to people, loving and spunky, so I'm not sure where I got the idea I was this awful person (for goodness sakes, my days were filled with piano lessons, basketball practices, books on books on books and homework!) but I constantly felt like I was never enough and I began hating myself. Not just the "hate" that we throw out there flippantly, but I truly hated myself and vehemently tried to change who I was, to no avail.

In retrospect, I think, from the beginning of time, I thrived on making others happy. As a preschool teacher I know that kids will do nice things just to hear you say the token words: "Wow! Thank you! You're great!" (and they will let you know how great they are if you don't catch them in the act, mind you.) I've also learned that we are all a bunch of adult sized 4 year olds in that regard, subconsciously floating around seeking the approval of those around us just to feel good about ourselves, our work and our general personhood. It's human nature to want the approval of those around us, especially those we love or work under; our parents, bosses, friends, boyfriends, teachers, husbands, children, etc. suddenly become those we desire to impress and receive approval from. I took it to a whole new level, I craved that approval constantly from everyone. It didn't extend to my small realm of people who were "important" to me, I wanted to please EVERYONE.

It was a perfect storm: my love language is words of affirmation (go figure!), I'm EXTREMELY empathetic, I can walk into a room, feel the vibe or the emotions and will in turn take those emotions on and try to process them as my own, I don't want to hurt or disappoint others and I'm human. Suddenly all these things were buzzing and fizzing inside me, colliding into one another and clomping around, this constant static of panicky urge to PLEASE ALL THE PEOPLE.

I was exhausted. I was angry. I was anxious. I was depressed. I began to withdraw. I journaled angst-y, angry, amplified teenage woes of how awful I was and how I could never make anyone like me. I would monitor EVERYONE and if I saw the slightest flicker of what I perceived or felt as disappointment or failure I collapsed into a puddle of tears and self hatred. Eventually I learned to reign it in, no one likes a weepy 16 year old (p.s. they called it "sensitive"), but I still hurt. I was heavy, lugging my weight of disapproval and lack of confidence everywhere I went. I put on the smiles and pulled out my jokes, but inside I was desperately pleading: "Please like me so that I can like myself."

At times, it was a dull roar. I would ignore it, paint over it, pretend it was "normal" or that it didn't exist altogether. At other times it would rear it's ugly head in a sudden obsession and desire to be wanted by all the wrong people. It was a toxic place and incredibly disheartening. I would think: "If only I could be a little bit better, this would all go away. If only this person would be happy with me, I'll be alright."

If you're reading this you're probably screaming: "GET IT TOGETHER!" But let me tell you, in the midst of a storm you can convince yourself that even the most blatantly unhealthy situations are "normal" or a "phase" or host of any other excuses to get you out of facing your fear head on. For me, that fear was that I would be unlikable.

A few months ago I was making my 35 minute commute to work, one in which I've devoted to time with God, I'll worship, pray, or wait quietly to hear from Him. This instance I was praying and asking (once again) for God to please allow me to accept myself and move past what others thought of me or were saying. I felt this gentle voice say: "What gives those words the power to define you?"

It was so soft. This gentle, loving nudge, yet it rocked my world. It was like every time my friends reminded me that my approval and identity was in Christ, that the gospel had changed me and that I was accepted as a daughter of Christ finally clicked.

A moment with God changed everything.

I remember audibly fumbling with my words, not because it was an "Ah ha!" moment but more of a: "Duh you idiot!" moment. At this point I was aware that the answer was simple: "Those words don't have power over me." But before I could defend myself, once again, God continued: "Your identity is in me. That messiness you feel, that you're not good enough, it's gone. It died on the cross. When I said: "It is finished!" I meant that you were finished with having to feel like you would never be approved. Your identity isn't in what they say about you, it's about what I say about you. I say that you're good enough. I say that you're forgiven. I say that I love you and I want you." At this point I was crying, not of shame (3 minutes prior that's why I would've cried), but because I felt this weight suddenly lifted, this freedom I had never felt before. As I was crying that gentle voice once again said, "So who's words do you want to give power to?"

That's the power of the gospel. That Jesus would carry my shame, my guilt, my sin, my desire to seek approval and in turn my feelings of failure, that He would feel that, embody it, take the punishment for it, carry the weight of it, die with it and take it to His grave. The same grave He was triumphant over. The same failure I feel, He was triumphant over.

That is what has power in my life.

Why would I give power to the words of those who are just as messy and hurting as me? Why would I give power to those who haven't triumphed death and sin? Why would I give power to the words of those who haven't accepted me, good, bad and ugly, with a perfect love?

I throw myself at the foot of the cross everyday, accepting the grace that says: "You are by nature messy and kind of awful, but I loved you enough to take that, bear it and crush it. You are free, you are a friend of mine, you are a child... You are accepted."

Those are the words I'll give power to. For they are the truest and purest words ever said.

faithful satisfaction

Hi, so let's not even acknowledge that I haven't written a blog post since the beginning of the year (unless you count the one time I copy and pasted an old post, which doesn't count by the way.)

I feel like the past few months have flown by, I have had every intention of sitting down and pounding out what is going on and what God is doing and sharing, but every time I do, I walk away feeling like I don't have the adequate words. 

In October I shared this post where I opened up about my battle with anxiety and depression and the medical war (and dear God did it feel like an all out war) I had been waging over the summer. It was a tough post to write, opening up about my biggest demons was scary and daunting but it was cathartic and healing in the process. I was able to reach out and say: "I love Jesus, but I was hurting and I needed to get help and I want to say that it's okay to ask for help. You aren't broken beyond repair or less of a Christian because of it." 

That being said, since that time, mostly this new year, my life and my faith have been radically changed. (HAHAHAHAHA EVERY BLOG POST I HAVE EVER WRITTEN.) Sometimes in life we are faced with tough challenges and big decisions and they bring you to your knees. 

I've always struggled with my identity and being confident with who I was. I was convinced that this was always going to be a part of me and and a part of my life. I was constantly aware of everyone's disapproval of who I was, I tried so hard to please this person or that person, I was so wrapped up in making myself or others happy that I was miserable. I began believing the lies of isolation that we can so quickly become entrapped in.

"You'll never make friends."

"You'll never be good enough."

"You'll never be happy all the time."

"You'll always be anxious." 

"You'll never be able to go to college."

"You'll never....."

The never's became my best friends. They woke me up in the morning and sang me to sleep every night, they were my constant companion, everything became an insurmountable obstacle that the never's reminded me I couldn't do. I removed myself from friendships, believing they were never going be successful, healthy, thriving places of rest and refreshment. I removed myself from church and community because they would never understand me and they would ultimately hurt me. I removed myself from Jesus because He would never get me or my pain, He would never fully heal me, He would never quench my desires and restore me. The never's backed me into a corner until I was all alone and then they told me that I would never be enough either. 

The world suddenly was this awful, horrible place and I was just another pawn in the game. 

But the funny thing is, is that I had convinced myself that the never's was normal and in fact extremely logical. I was "cautious" when it came to friends, "smart", "careful", "sensitive", whatever adjective that seemed to explain away what was in reality hurt and bitterness. 

In all honesty the root of the problem was a weak faith in God. Sure, I believed that He had died for me, I talked about my faith in Him and I whole heartily believed the stories that I was told, but I didn't have faith that God could completely and fully satisfy me like He could do for others. I would always have a small part of me that would never be enough, never make friends, never not be anxious, never be happy, never be satisfied...

I had spent so long telling myself that Jesus couldn't and that I couldn't and that everyone else couldn't that I had no faith in anyone or anything. That's a horribly lonely, dark place to be. Everything seems so big and scary and impossible and that's because there is no hope therefore it IS big and scary and impossible, but that isn't reality. 

This is the reality of Jesus: He is able. He is big and mighty and the never's are nothing to Him. I was so terrified to give up control and have faith wholly and completely in God that I ultimately was alone and defeated. I think I was scared that I would be trapped. I thought that I was free when I was faithless, but freedom came with faith.

I made conscious efforts to pray and read and rely only on God and His word. Things shifted when I woke up in the morning and committed my day to Him, the moment I woke up, I prayed, invited God in, asked for wisdom and joy, peace and guidance and an awareness of Him. When I was overwhelmed or began doubting I would turn on worship or open my bible, flooding the darkness with light, the lies with truth. When I was nervous or anxious, I prayed. All this time I thought God wasn't meeting me when in reality I wasn't allowing my heart to open up and let Him in.

I gave up my false sense of "freedom" to throw myself at the foot of the cross, embrace grace and rest in Jesus and that is where I was truly free. I was free from the constant presence of the never, I was rid of my anxiety and feelings of inadequacy, I was satisfied and whole when I pursued Christ and only Him.

It had been so long since I had heard God's voice and felt His presence that I had to pull over the first time I felt Him so near to me again, like an old friend, He sidled right up to me and held me as if He had never left. I thought I had lost it. I thought that I was so broken beyond repair that I was never again going to experience being near to God. But, God is faithful to His Word and His promises, even when I am not faithful to Him. He was waiting for me to get my act together and with grace and love He welcomed me back and wiped every tear, healed my heart and refreshed me with a fullness only He can give. 

What I'm getting at is that faith brings freedom and freedom produces satisfaction. When you have faith in God, the good, the bad and the life that you live is suddenly okay again. Your world is complete and there is this supernatural feeling of joy and peace that surpasses anything this world can give you or explain. That is faith and that is Jesus.

My satisfaction is in Christ alone. It is in Him I look for my joy, peace, happiness and it is there that the never's are squelched, my craziness quieted, this anxious little heart of my put to rest and it is there that I am completely and unequivocally satisfied.