along the way

Somewhere along the way I talked myself into the idea I would never have close friends who I would laugh hysterically at, someone to drive around with while having long life talks (and maybe chat about Kylie Jenner's lips somewhere in there too, HATE ME) and someone to watch bad reality TV alongside of. 

I'm not quite sure how I talked myself into this idea, whether it was because I told myself that people were bad and not worth the time and energy or simply that I told myself I wasn't good enough or worthy of such friendships, regardless, I put this distinct line where I cut people off. You could be my friend up until this point, a point of safety and distance that allowed us to be friendly, but not close. I had told myself that this was rational and fair; a caution that needed to be taken, but in all honesty it was hellish. At this place I felt not only isolated but broken. I couldn't trust others, I couldn't even trust myself to make a good choice in friends, I let bitterness and unforgiveness take root and suddenly it consumed me to the point where this "place" wasn't just a place, it became my home.

It wasn't like distrust, bitterness and unforgiveness showed up at my hearts doorstep and I was all: "OH YES I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE HERE! SLEEP ON THE COUCH! DOORS ALWAYS OPEN! RUIN MY LIFE! DISTANCE ME FROM GOD! CAN'T WAIT!" The enemy is tricky like this. His lies and the baggage they drag along behind them don't present themselves as their true forms because they're lies, instead he wraps them up as nice little packages, he convinces you that this is for your benefit while also taunting and tormenting you, he comforts you with the idea that being alone is better then having friends at all. Then he laughs. Because he's also a bully.

And this was where I found myself. 

Somewhere along the way I had built up these walls of protection, strong and steadfast, high above me and all around. They kept people away, danger was at bay and I could sleep soundly knowing I was safe. Except I wasn't safe and I didn't sleep soundly. In fact, I was sad and alone and angry. I was angry at God for not making me "likable" or "trusting" or capable of making and keeping friends, angry at myself for being too much of a freak to keep friends and angry at people for not being there for me. Couldn't they see I was alone? Couldn't God? Suddenly my fortress was a prison, one that I had created subtly over time, gradually chipping away who I was to create the walls that kept me contained.

Isolation is a pretty miserable place to be, but its right where the enemy wants us. Alone and in the quiet corners of heart I was curling up and telling myself that I was a failure. I wasn't good, I would make a horrible friend, I was a freak, a loser, a messy, awful, annoying person who had all these issues. I had anxiety that crippled me and added to this. Good Christian girls didn't have anxiety, they weren't depressed or emotional or feeling the things I was, they fiercely loved Jesus and were buzzing with constant joy and satisfaction in Christ, they were surrounded by friends and probably also didn't get pimples. Somewhere along the way I convinced myself that I was never going to be that and by then I had distanced myself so far away from friends and God and even myself that I was unrecognizable. 

Back in February I found myself at a crossroad. I was faced with a choice: I could continue to quietly whisper these things to myself, not daring to open up and tell a soul and befriend them and share my brokenness with them. I could continue to avoid community and relationship in the realest, most honest, most raw form of itself. I could continue to imprison myself in my own loneliness and isolation and continue listening to my own lies and those of the enemy. 

Or I could face it all head on, stand up and deal. So I did.

And it wasn't easy. It wasn't easy to force myself to be honest and open up to the Holy Spirit and the bits of me that needed healing. It wasn't easy to invite God in and give Him control and ultimate authority in my life. It wasn't easy to repent of my sin and even to forgive and accept an apology I never got years ago. It wasn't easy to trust that God would meet my need in His timing and in His perfect way and that it would all work out. It wasn't easy to go out and make friends and open up and be real. It was excruciating for me to say: "This is me, I'm Kelly, this is what I am."

But you know what? God is good and He met me where I was and He redeemed and He restored and He healed. At this crossroad that I was at, somewhere along the way God stepped in and took control and I let Him, and it was good. So, so good.

When God reached out and extended His hand of grace and forgiveness to me and I reached out and clutched it, I held on tight. I'm still clutching right now because I'm acutely aware of how desperately in need of Him I am and how His hand has quickly restored me. In turn, I was able to offer the same hand of grace and forgiveness to others and most importantly to myself. Where there once was isolation and lies and loneliness, there is now freedom. 

God's mere presence in our lives brings unequivocal freedom and simply inviting Him in allows that freedom to interrupt my daily life. To meet me somewhere along the way and rescue me. That same freedom extended into my friendships and allowed that excruciating: "This is me, I'm Kelly, this is what I am." to turn into a freeing moment. 

Somewhere along the way I convinced myself that isolation and loneliness was going to be something I was "stuck" with for the reset of my life. There wasn't one person, one defining moment or one incident that allowed me to believe that lie, it was one the enemy carefully wove for me over time and that I fell for and entrapped myself in.

Somewhere along the way I believed the lie that God didn't love me enough to bring me friends. The kind that were going to pray for me, encourage me, walk beside me and love me for who I was in my messy imperfection. The kind that would stay up late eating pizza with me and watching E! News and chatting about the benefits of using expensive shampoo. The kind that would point me to the cross when I was hurting and knock me upside the head with truth when I was out of line. The kind that were happy when I was happy and would throat punch anyone who looked cross eyed at me. Along the way I've come to realize that those are the types of friendships God always wanted for me. The kind He blesses me with and the community His presence creates. 

And when those friends fail not because they're jerks but because they're human, He reminded me that He is always able and constant. He doesn't promise me a perfect, carefree, easy life, but He does promise me His son, to walk beside me and guide me, to comfort and satisfy me when even I'm incapable of comforting and satisfying myself.

Somewhere along the way I got it ALL wrong and a little off track. And I'm okay with that because somewhere along the way, I finally got it right.