Sincerely Insecure

I am always nervous when I sit down to write. I have stupid, one-sided conversations with myself. Will anything that I say matter? Will it be true? Will it be helpful? Will I be clear? Will I be understood? I don't know! So much of the time my mind feels like a jumbled mess of dirty laundry tossed about an already cluttered bedroom. I'm a mess. My life is messy. I feel insecure a lot. It's WAY easier to just play Candy Crush and drink wine until my mind numbs, slows. It's what I was doing two minutes ago. Because I'm scared. I'm scared that if I call myself a writer, dreamer, lover of all things good & right & true then I'll have expectations to meet. And history will show that I am a failure. A complete screw-up. I never really get off the ground. I never really start anything. I never really do anything.

That's what history shows about me. But you know something awesome? Way better than all of that is that history proves my God is faithful. And I may be wandering in desert, around the same damn mountain over and over again but just like the Jews, His favorites, His chosen, God gives me bread for my body and mercy for my soul- new every morning. My friend says that God mixes up a new batch of his grace for me every day. New. Every day. He leads me while I stumble around in the dark. His Word is a lamp to my feet. Not the sun, not a bright, radiant light that I can see the whole span of my life with, but a soft, gentle light to illuminate my feet so I can see just enough to follow His. I would be lying if I said I remember this all the time and practice walking in the low lamplight, listening for God's voice. I would be lying if I said that even when I am doing these things that it is easy. I'm afraid every single time. Here's why: I'm afraid I won't actually hear God. I'm afraid that He's too big and I'm too small, He's too quiet and I'm too loud, He's preoccupied and I am forgotten. But none of that is true (except that I am small & loud). God is faithful. His character is tried and true, the same yesterday, today, and forever.

I guess my hope is that if I'm brave and I tell my stories that you'll be brave enough to tell your stories too. And then we can be friends. You will know me and I will know you. Then we can remind each other of the truth when all we can hear are the lies. We can pray for each other with purpose and commitment, because when you hurt, I hurt. When you have joy, I have joy. Because I have let you in and you have let me in. Vulnerability, authenticity, honesty. All require bravery. All are necessary for relationship. That's what I'm after. Relationship. Restoration. Wholeness. Hope. Love. All the things that God is after, my heart longs for too.

I am sincerely insecure, but I want to be strong and courageous. Another friend told me that fear and faith occupy the same place in our hearts and minds, but they cannot both exist simultaneously. Fear or faith. You pick. I am so sick of fear and insecurities being louder than the truth, louder than my faith. I have faith in God because he never changes and he never falters. He has faith in me, despite me, because I am hidden in Christ. All he sees when he looks at me is his precious, perfect, blameless son. And he doesn't (not can't, just doesn't) see that I look like hell- tattered, bruised, separate, screw-up. He sees Jesus. That's all I want to see too. Jesus. He's my only hope. My plan A. There is no plan B. Only Jesus. Remember him with me. Remember him when all you can see is yourself and you look ugly. I've felt really ugly lately- wretched on the inside. He's better, I swear. He's making me better. He'll always be making me better. I'm getting there. Thanks for going with me.

Love,
Leah

Confess

There's something to confessing, lots of things actually. It sheds light on the ugly things in me which hurts a lot. I don't like to be reminded of my shortcomings or confronted with new ones (which, of course, were probably always there but just never had opportunity to present themselves). Those ugly things- thoughts, feelings, actions- when confessed can even hurt people I love. I think that might be the worst part. In a moment of weakness I could fall and not only hurt myself but leave heaps of collateral damage in my wake.

That's the hard something about confession. I promise there's a beautiful something too. I know because Dan taught me.

Last night we were talking about me & my failings. I explained the situation, scattering very sincere apologies throughout. He helped me talk through it- I am not my feelings. Feelings fade, pass, they're liars. We're human. We err. It's ok. He said, "You know I'm not perfect." And that was it. He forgave me. He held me.

Now I'm exposed. He knows who I really am, what I really think. But he didn't do anything terrible and he didn't make me feel ashamed. Because he loves me. He wants to help me. He wants to go places and do things in our life together and these confessions just help him know me better. It prepares us to fight the good fight together. And we will.

Find someone you love & trust, someone who understands you. Confess. It's hard, but it's beautiful. All part of God's redemptive work, making things whole.

I love Dan & I am so grateful he loves me back. 

I write.

I don't write for you- not at first. I write for me. Because I need to, I have to. I'm realizing that now- just now, actually. I keep telling myself I'm not a creative person. I don't have anything to offer as far as creative things go. I keep saying that all I need to do is find my thing, my fit. And that thing is unique and fun and sacred and hard and gives back. See, so it can't be writing because I just told you I don't write for you. I write for me. Because it connects me, the creation, back to my Creator. I was made to make beautiful things, to bring order to the chaos, to offer wholeness in the face of all that is broken. It's hard for me to see how writing can do any of those things. Writing. My writing, my stories, my words. It seems so selfish. Yet as I put these words on paper, it feels like things coming together, it feels like tasting a hint of that wholeness I am desperately after- it's there, just barely on the edges of my tongue. It's exciting. It's scary. I'm accepting God's invitation to co-create with Him. If I don't I may very well stay the same. I may not change. I may not do brave things. But I want to. I will be brave. Something in me is burning- low, warm, and small, but it is radiant! I will not smother my creativity with my own fear and doubt. I've done enough of that. Hang out with me for the journey? So, that's scary for me too. I'm asking you to hold me accountable, to encourage me wherever my writing adventure leads. If I'm honest with myself, I have no idea where this will go. But I am brave, my God is big and faithful, and my heart yearns for adventure. I know I was made for more. I'm going.

I write.