Chasing After Me

On Sunday at Bloom, I put a shared a picture of a seemingly confident and happy woman 22-year-old woman on the big screen for all to see.

The young woman was just out of college and, on the surface, looked as if she was happier than happy and probably had all of her crap together.

But, in all actuality, it was a girl who had struggled for years with things that many people struggle with… starving herself and then forcing herself to puke when she did eat…racking up crazy amounts of credit card debt at a very young age with no great way to pay it off…going out every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night…drinking too much…finding guys to pay attention to her. In many moments, she was afraid the façade would crack, and that people would instantly see her thoughts of inadequacy, imperfection and brokenness. That they would instantly see that she was a sham.

You know people who feel this way. In fact the “people” are probably you.

I would know.

I had to put that picture up on Sunday as I shared with my dear friend Tamara about seeing ourselves as God sees us…I had to put that picture up because it was me…because it was a me who saw herself as broken.

A couple weeks back, when we were mapping out that message, one of my best and most trusted friends mortified me when he shared that some people think I’m always confident and strong and that I don’t make mistakes. I was mortified because didn’t want that to be the case. Ever. I wanted people to see me as transparent. Those closest to me know that a “confident, strong and perfect” Dawn is not reality. But what kept me awake all that night was a burning desire to lay some of the hard stuff out there…a desire to embrace transparency. Not because I was trying to hide anything from anyone, but because those real moments are the moments that can connect people with hope.

Those moments connect people with hope because they can see an anchor of hope at work in your own life…when they can see you smile despite what you’ve gone through or are going through…when they see you can cry, yet still cling to hope to keep breathing…when they see another imperfect soul find love and acceptance from their higher power.

We all go through crap. We all do stupid things. We all have moments of weakness. We all have moments of feeling gross and dirty. But we often carry all of those feelings behind a façade of a smile. Those moments are integral parts of our stories. And, for me, I believe that God – thanks to Jesus – sees me perfect, holy and righteous, despite those moments of inadequacy…those moments in the past, those I’m living now, and those I’ll face in the future.

Embrace your whole story…not just the highlights…the highs and lows complete the story. Even the crap…because I believe God turns crap into fertilizer…where there is crap, beautiful things can grow.

My dad is my hero.

It might sound cliché, but for years I had a hard time saying that.

It was hard because I was frustrated that few others knew the amazing dad I knew existed. It was hard because I was sad to think that my dad was feeling empty and lonely and there was nothing I could do. It was hard because I was angry that he couldn’t just throw away the lifeless bottle and spend time with people who loved him instead. It was hard because it hurt to wonder whether or not he even remembered some of the most important moments in my life. It was hard because I was pissed at him for throwing away his life.

A lifelong battle with alcoholism had isolated my father from the world…had hidden the father I knew that few others could see. Not even my husband knew my real dad, because alcoholism hid him.

I often tried to put myself in my dad’s shoes…and I knew his heart hurt. I imagine anger and resentment overtook him when he could never measure up to the expectations put upon him by others. I imagine he hurt deeply after experiencing unspeakable things while serving in the Marine Corps. I imagine he felt shameful after a failed first marriage and failed jobs. I imagine he felt lonely when those close to him were overtaken by death at ages far too young. I imagine he felt guilty for not being the son he thought his parents wanted. I imagine his heart broke for both of his daughters when they each, separately, experienced murders of their best friends. I imagine he condemned himself for things we can’t even fathom. And then, I imagine, those feelings spiraled to the point of unspeakable numbness…to a place where he could no longer allow himself to feel…anything.

I won’t lie. There were many, many, many hard moments over the years.

I remember bad arguments. I remember police cars. I remember hiding in closets. I remember mom finding empty liquor bottles. I remember staying with my grandparents. I remember jail visits. I remember being too embarrassed to have my friends over. I remember hurtful things being said.

But I also remember loving no one like I loved my daddy…and always felt that same kind of love directed right back at me.

I remember the dad who played with me. The dad who taught me how to ride a bike. The dad who taught me how to build things. The dad who helped me learn to spell. The dad who taught me to read. The dad who convinced me when I was young that I would marry him when I turned 18 (so that he wouldn’t have to deal with me dating!). The dad who inspired me with his love for writing. The dad who drove me to school. The dad who taught me how to fish. The dad who taught me how to shoot a gun. The dad who wanted me to use said gun to go hunting with him (but there was no way I was up for killing a deer!). The dad who worked hard for years to provide for our family in tough times. The dad who taught me how to drive a stick-shift. The dad who believed in me. The dad who was proud of me. The dad who introduced me to Jesus.

Twenty-one months ago, after an emergency hospital stay, we thought alcoholism might take his life. Sixteen months ago, we thought the same thing again. It seemed as if alcohol might overtake him in this lifetime, even though we knew his heart was directly connected to the divine manifestation of grace and love.

But then he fought back. He fought back by giving everything up. All of the anger, frustration, lonliness, hurt, resentment, shame, guilt. All of it. He experienced grace Himself. The Grace who taught him that he was not the sum of his past mistakes. The Grace who told him that he is seen as perfect and pure. The Grace who showed him that his life is not finished.

On Friday, my dad retired and walked out of the doors of the Minneapolis Post Office with 20 years of government service…chin held high…love overflowing everywhere. He closed that chapter of his life on his terms. It was beautiful.

Grace literally redeemed his life. That same grace rekindled relationships in our family.

His courage to own his story encourages me to own my own story. His willingness to continue walking out purpose at the age of 67 shows me that God never stops working. His tender-hearted humility exemplifies Jesus.

I couldn’t be more proud of him…or more inspired by him…a living, breathing manifestation of God’s grace.

So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. -Romans 8:1 (NLT)

I met a man today. He served three years in the U.S. military in Beirut. He has three large scars on his torso, several scars on his arms, a scar on his neck, and a tattoo to prove it. He’s lived through hell.

It shouldn’t matter that he slept under bridge last night. It shouldn’t matter that that his clothes were filthy. It shouldn’t matter that I heard his story through my open car window at an intersection where he was holding a sign asking for help.

He has a name…it’s Frank Wormwood.

I never would have heard his story had I not asked his name. And, I don’t know what possessed me to ask. Perhaps it was his genuine smile. Perhaps it was a manifestation of a work God is doing inside of me. Perhaps God just needed Frank to know in that moment that he is still respected and cared for. It probably was a combination of all three.

That two-minute exchange inspired me.

A name reminds you that you have a unique perspective on the world. A name reminds you that you have a unique identity. A name reminds you have a journey of your own.

A name reminds you that the homeless person on the side of the road is not an inconvenience, he’s a person filled with past experiences and dreams for the future.

You see, Frank IS a story. He is a story filled with hope. A story that’s worth something. A story that’s worth sharing.

When other people care enough to know your name, you’re not just another person on the street. You are human. You have purpose. Your life is a story.

You know the people…

…those who are human, yet striving to be superhuman.

…those always, always, always working toward perfection, and are never satisfied.

…those working to please way too many people…trying to make them proud.

…those afraid to share their imperfections, faults and fears, even to those closest to them, because they’re afraid of rejection.

…those afraid of asking questions that challenge the status quo because they don’t want to sound stupid or be seen as rebellious.

…those dying to be all of who they are to everyone, but fear they’ll be abandoned.

If you don’t think you know someone like that, read my bio. Look at my picture. That was me.

Empty.

Lonely.

Fearful.

Insecure.

Unfulfilled.

Then came Grace. Real Grace.

Not the grace you say before you eat…and not the trite religious jargon.

Here’s the thing. I went to church almost all my life. I thought I knew what to say. I thought I knew how to act. Everyone always saw me as the good girl. God forbid they know my questions, doubts, faults and fears. I needed to hide those. From everyone. Even God. I thought I had to do a lot to make up for the things no one would ever know. I thought I had to prove myself. I had to prove to God that I loved and believed in Him. To me, my pursuit of perfection was the same thing as my pursuit of God. That was the way it was supposed to be, right?

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Chasing approval and perfection? Pointless. Embracing the approval and perfection I finally realized I already have? Priceless.

For me, the realization was a process of logic, really. I believed Jesus came to save me. But save me from what? If Jesus brought “Good News,” what was it? Having to hide things? Pretending to be perfect? Being judgmental and closed off from the rest of the world in fear it might taint or impede my own pursuit for perfection?

No wonder people are leaving the church by the thousands. They’re searching for Good News…not an empty set of rules or rituals…or a pursuit of perfection they know they can never attain.

Why did God send Jesus again? To show us the law could be fulfilled? Or to fulfill the law for us?

HA! There’s the catch. You cannot do it better than God.

Sorry to break the news to the religious crowd, but He already fulfilled the law FOR us because He knew we were incapable of living up to His ideals.

The problem is that many Christians acknowledge grace, but forget that Grace came to earth as a loving human being and left footprints in the dirt. They forget that Grace loved so intensely that it lived perfectly just to die and pay for all of humanity’s imperfections. They forget that Grace showed its power and resilience when it returned to be our advocate and make imperfection irrelevant. They forget that Grace tells us there is no condemnation in Love.

Now, that’s Good News.

Grace…the freely given, unmerited favor and love of God.

Stew on that for a while. Free means there is no exchange. Free means nothing you have to earn. Free means nothing you have to pay for. Ever. Ever. Ever.

Grace is not religion. In fact, Grace stomped on the face of religion. Religion (and pursuit of perfection) makes you selfish. Grace (and acceptance of who you are) empowers you to be selfless.

Grace constantly transforms me.

Grace allows me to stop worrying about myself so I can focus on letting God’s love overflow from my life into the lives of others.

Grace shows me humility…because there is nothing I can do to make God love me more…and there is nothing I can do that can make God love me less.

Grace teaches me that the point of everything is Jesus…is Love…and everything else is ancillary.

Grace excites.

Grace inspires.

Grace accepts.

Grace loves.

Grace brings hope.

Grace overwhelms me with gratitude.

Grace is so big, so kind and so generous that I cannot fully understand or rationalize it.

Grace erases imperfections. Forever.

Grace changes the game. Forever.

Grace lives. Forever. And nothing can separate me from it or take it away.

Big realization.

I can now be fully alive…unafraid…and eternally connected to Unfailing Love.

Dump religion. Dump perfection. Dump approval. None of it matters.

Let Grace embrace you…God will take it from there.

Embrace is a powerful word. It’s more than a hug. It’s more than a greeting.

It creates an image. It prompts action. It evokes deep emotions.

Webster’s definition confirms it:

• To clasp or hold close with the arms, usually as an expression of affection
• To surround; enclose
• To twine around

Now add the “-ed” to the word.

I don’t know about you…but the idea of me embracing someone is easier to stomach than the idea of being embraced. It’s personal.

Being embraced requires me to open up.

Being embraced makes me feel vulnerable.

Being embraced takes control away from me.

But then…after my own hesitancy subsides…I realize that…

Being embraced gives me safety.

Being embraced connects my soul to another.

Being embraced tangibly radiates another’s love for me.

An embrace speaks louder than any words…being embraced generates a comfort and peace unlike any other action.

It all sounds simple. Maybe it even sounds fluffy. But it’s one of the simplest and most profound realizations I’ve had. And that realization has turned the past 18 months of my life upside-down. Or maybe, it’s more accurate to say it’s a concept that has turned my life right-side-up.

For the first time in my life, I feel lovable…because I’ve finally allowed myself to be embraced. Embraced by myself…embraced by others…embraced by God.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t loved. I knew I was. But knowing you’re loved is nothing compared to allowing yourself to feel love.

Sometimes it’s awkward. Sometimes it’s clunky. Sometimes it’s scary.

But it will change your life.

Finding acceptance in embracing me.

Finally. I can love me. I’m not standing in front of a mirror ranking my performance. I’ve got my own voice, my own dance, my own moves. It’s interesting when I think about Jesus telling me in the New Testament to love others “as we love ourselves.” I certainly don’t believe he was telling me to hate others as much as I hate myself…yet all too often, that’s what I do. I think we all do. We are our own biggest haters. I’m too fat. I’m not smart enough. My opinion doesn’t matter. How can we possibly love others when we can’t even love ourselves and respect our uniqueness?

In Psalm 139:14 in the Voice translation, it says that we are filled with wonder and awe (other translations say we are fearfully and wonderfully made). I love what the phrase from the Voice suggests…filled with wonder and awe. According to whom? According to God! I imagine Him staring at me in wonder and awe. If God can look at me that way, then certainly I can. And once I can look at myself that way, I can see others that way, too.

Finding trust, encouragement and solace in embraces from others.

I always assumed that I loved people more than they could possibly love me. Not because I love bigger than anyone else, but because I couldn’t see the lovable stuff in myself. I needed to see the lovable in me in order to realize that I am, indeed, loved as much as (if not more than) I can possibly love. It’s logic, really…if God IS love, and His spirit dwells within those who believe in Him, then they emit love. God loves me through other people. I have no doubt. But I could never feel it until I let myself feel it…until I realized I could trust them to love me despite my flaws and quirks…until I would allow myself to actually HEAR their encouragement and direction.

After all, I Corinthians 13:1-3 makes it clear that the foundation of everything is LOVE. Those around me are merely living according the way Jesus asked us to live. How is rejecting their love for me respectful and loving to them? Allowing myself to be loved by others shows them I love them back. When I can trust that someone loves me, no matter what, I feel deep peace and comfort.

Finding meaning, purpose and hope in my embrace from God.

I really never had a problem understanding that God loves me. But I know I never let myself feel His love. When I think about it, I can’t feel love from people when I’m busy running around trying to please them. That’s how it was for God and me. I tried to create my own meaning and my own purpose…and believe me…that was hopeless. It always left me wanting more. And it allowed me to hide the places I didn’t want to go with Him.

When I finally understood the power of grace, and realized that there is NO CONDEMNATION for those who are in Christ (Romans 8:1, New Living Translation), I realized I had nothing to worry about! Was I at risk of Him not accepting me? Nope. He doesn’t care what I do or don’t do to please Him. He wants me to FEEL His love so that it overflows out of me and into the lives of others. The same way he uses the people in my life. Allowing myself to be embraced by God gives me hope that there is meaning and purpose to my unique self, who is filled with wonder and awe and loved by others.

You see, I realized that I can’t embrace others with a love that’s true without allowing myself to be embraced…without understanding what it feels like to be embraced… without understanding how being embraced changes the direction of a moment, a day, a season, a year and, yes, even a lifetime.

Open up. Be vulnerable. Lose control.

Allow yourself to be embraced.

And then watch your life transform.

(Thanks to the special people who understood the power of the word “embrace” and put it to work in the lives of others…including me. You know who you are.)