Wednesday, December 16, 2015

i want you to want me

For a long time I didn't want to admit it. I didn't want to admit that I was a twenty-two year old--who has been married for three years.

Who has two kids.
Who is a stay-at-home-mom.
Who is Asian.
Who is "doing nothing" with the degree she earned.
Who gets help from [wonderful] government programs like Women, Infants, and Children (WIC).

You seriously have no idea how hard it was to write that last sentence. I wrote it. Deleted it. Watched my cursor blink a hundred times before trying to type it out again.

The truth.

That's what I didn't want to admit (and clearly, I still don't go bragging about it).

For the longest time I wanted you to want my life. Not because it was anything great, but because you wanting it made me feel like it was worth something.

You know what I mean.

Like, "I hope you see me rock this outfit...and wish you could be me."
Like, "I hope you see what he does for me...and wish you could be me."
Like, "I hope you see me at church leading...and wish you could be me."

Like those snug thoughts you've thought today that made you feel a little better about yourself. Because maybe you don't really like yourself; but if you lied about who you are, then others might like you and you might like yourself in turn.

Because when it comes to self-worth, it's a democracy and everyone gets a vote, and whatever the majority voted determines your value.

So we don't like to admit the truth. The truth is raw and leaves us naked and ashamed. It's partial to no one--and that's the problem. Because we want to present ourselves as good when indeed we are far from it.

So we don't admit the truth. We live with lies and no one says anything about it. We give each other grace by leaving our skeletons in their closets. We love each other this way.

But can we call it love if it doesn't heal us?
Can we call it grace if it doesn't save us?
Are we really living if we're hiding in the shadows?

For the longest time I avoided telling you that I had married young, had kids young, graduated college but was a stay-at-home-mom--the truth--because I wanted you to want my life. And that life--my life as it truly is--wasn't one I thought you'd want.

I avoided the truth at the expense of the truth. Because when I kept my mess under the rug, I kept my message under the rug along with it. My message that declared the reach of God's grace, the extent of His love, and the weight of His power in my life.

Without the ugly part of my life, the beautiful part was gone, too.

Want my life? Don't. You can't handle it. Only Jesus can take my pride issues, my denial issues, my issues, issues, issues. I am a mess. I'm seeing more and more why I can't save myself, why I need Jesus.

When I'm a wretched failure at His feet, His love heals me.
When I'm hitchhiking wanderer, His grace saves me.
And when I live honestly with others who live honestly with me, then I am truly living.

God can save a narcissist like me--which means He can surely save you, my dear. Let your life be a testimony of God's power. Let your life bring Him glory.

"God intended that they would seek Him and perhaps reach out for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us" (Acts  17:27 Berean Study Bible).

with much love,