Chasing After Me

Someone observed something about me last week that was jarring:

I think it’s funny that you talk so much about being an external processor, yet you process things internally a hundred times before you let them out of your mouth.

She was right.

I guess I let the energy I get from being with people, communicating with people, and even simply writing skew my perspective.

The reality is internal or external processing is just that – a process. It’s not good or bad. It’s not stronger or weaker.

The jarring part of what she said is what I realized I let the internal processing do to me.

It. Immobilizes. Me.

Especially in places where I know I’m supposed to be sharing. Like on this blog. Crap, I even have trouble journaling (despite telling everyone I think they should!) because I feel the need for thoughts to be complete first…the need to be formed into something easily digestible, appealing, and certainly important in order to be presented.

Debilitating.

What if I share something that isn’t a complete story? Exposes more weakness or hurt than I’m comfortable with? What if I say something controversial? What if I say something that makes someone angry instead of fulfilled or encouraged? What if I say something plain stupid?

It stresses me out.

Processing holds an important place. But it shouldn’t supersede the processing meant to be shared with others.

So let’s not get in the way of ourselves.

After all, consuming things that are unprocessed mean more nutrients, more vitamins, more strength and, ultimately, more life.

Sometimes I have crappy days…crappy weeks, even.

Sometimes I get really crabby for no particular reason.

Sometimes some, choice, four-letter-words slip out.

Sometimes money is tight.

Sometimes precious relationships in my life are strained.

Sometimes stress weighs on me.

Sometimes I slam doors shut and yell because I’m angry.

Sometimes I feel weak.

Sometimes I feel confused.

Sometimes I have no confidence.

Sometimes I feel lonely.

Sometimes I feel discouraged.

Sometimes the world disappoints me.

Sometimes I wonder where God is.

Crap goes down in my life. Sometimes it’s significant. Sometimes it’s petty.

It’s easy to get caught up in the bad stuff.

But I choose hope. And I have to remind myself of hope every, single day…because hope is intangible.

Hope is believing what I can’t see. Hope is trusting in goodness and peace.

Hope produces smiles when the heaviness of situations feels unbearable.

Hope finds positives in the ugliest of situations.

Hope convinces me that God turns crap into fertilizer where beautiful things can grow.

Hope removes fear because it reminds me that I have absolutely nothing to lose.

Hope reminds me that someone exists who is bigger and more powerful than me.

Hope inspires me so that I can inspire others.

There’s a lot of power in those four letters.

Those four letters anchor my soul.

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.

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.

Fear is a funny thing. It’s not always obvious. It’s horribly uncomfortable. And, it’s often taboo.

Relational rejection.

There. I said it. That’s my biggest fear. Now it’s out there.

It’s ironic really.

Ironic because I love being completely open. Ironic because I love the freedom to be real…raw…and human. Ironic because I love seeing those traits in other people. Ironic because I’m one of the most obnoxiously relational beings I know.

Yet, somehow, this fear has forced me to hide a piece of my soul from the world. Even from my closest friends. Not because of any lack of trust. But truly out of fear. Fear that if they knew every ounce of my maniacal thought process and pervasive insecurities, they would no longer want anything to do with me.

Frankly, it’s been so well hidden in my life, that I’ve literally forgotten those things exist. I’ve gotten so comfortable with sharing my feelings, that I’ve forgotten there are “whys” behind those feelings. And, convinced myself that no one really wants to know those things anyway.

Wrong.

Way wrong.

The friends who do care about those “whys” have somehow found me. And, their deep love cracked that hard core of fear…a place in my life where I feel most vulnerable.

I let my fear of being alone and being vulnerable limit what my friends could be to me…limit the love I’d allow myself to receive from them. But, thank God for their persistence. For their love. For letting God use them to show me another layer of his own unfailing love and grace.

In close friendships, people don’t see vulnerabilities as signs of weakness or dark corners where no one wants to go.

These deep relationships seek vulnerabilities to embrace them.

Once my friends drew the vulnerabilities out of me, I was reminded that if they desired to get that close to me, than Jesus wanted it more. He doesn’t care about dark corners, because he is light…because he embodies perfect love…because his perfect love casts out fear. Even fear of relational rejection.

In the New Testament, Jesus refers to himself as our friend. I’m convinced he does that so we can capture glimpses in our lives today as to how he wants to operate in our lives. How we talk with him. How we laugh with him. How we cry with him. How we debate with him. And, yes, even what we share with him.

Those friends know who they are. And, I’m indebted to their compassion, loyalty and deep love. And, mostly, I’m thankful that God could use them to remind me of how much I’m loved for who I am. Right now. Despite the flaws, insecurities and fears I see in myself. Because He doesn’t even see them. He only sees beauty…vulnerable beauty.

“Knowing and letting oneself be known require overcoming many ancient fears – but it’s worth every risk.” – Arianna Huffington in “On Becoming Fearless”