Saturday, February 27, 2016

Who Am I?

2 Corinthians 12:14-15
“For the body does not consist of one member, but of many. If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body.”

I will be the first one to say that I have a comparison problem. When I am surrounded by a group of people, especially a group of believers, it is hard for me to not look at what other people have, and what I am lacking in. I criticize myself, often too harshly, and wonder if I will ever be good enough. Will I ever be as talented of a speaker as they are? Will I ever be as bold as they are? Will I ever be as kind as they are? Of course all of these things are good aspirations to have, and positive gifts to desire, but it eats me up inside. I am a thinker, and as much as I love people, I would rather be by myself, alone with my thoughts. But that is the problem. I let myself be alone with me, me and my flesh, me and satan. I never realized it before, but I talk to the devil far more than I talk to God. I hate it. I don’t want to be that person anymore, but how do I get rid of a problem that has consumed me for as long as I have been alive? I hate to admit it, but I have never felt good enough. I try so hard, and I always fail. From the time I was six, I spent anywhere from three to five days a week in a room full of mirrors, with a room full of beautiful girls, and even more beautiful dancing. Our classes and rehearsals were thankfully filled with encouragement, but it was impossible not to compare. “I wish I had her turn out. I wish I was as flexible as her. I wish I had her lines. I wish I was as strong as her. I wish my feet weren’t so flat. I wish I could be just as good as her.” Everyday I battled these thoughts, but I knew my friends beside me struggled in the very same way. I was not alone. One day, our teacher turned all of the lights off, put on a song, and we all danced. I know it sounds kind of weird, but my teacher was making a point. She wanted us to learn how to dance in the dark, before we danced in the light. She wanted us to learn how to be ourselves completely, how to dance with all transparency, when no one was watching. If you are reading this Lindsay, I got the point! I was free, we were all free. There was no wishing I could be someone else, it was just me and Jesus dancing together, and it was beautiful. It was in that moment that I realized the days I danced the worst, were the days I compared and complained. If I kept my eyes on who I was truly dancing for, who designed me with this gift, who loved me just as he created me, everything was different, I felt like I could breathe. Oh how this applies to my walk with God. I become so introverted, that all I can see is me and all I can hear are the deceiving wanderings of my mind. I run around with both of my hands covering my eyes, wondering why I can’t gain a new perspective and see God. I look to man, I look to myself, I turn away from the Lord. I take on a mindset of pride, thinking that I know better than God. “If you would have just given me this gift…If you would have just made me more like her, I would be more effective for your kingdom.” That is a lie straight from hell. I must stop looking at what God has not given me, and start looking at what he has. Because the fact of the matter is, we are all broken, useless, sinful vessels. On our own, we are nothing, we are simply a pile of ashes. But God. In the hands of the master potter, we are whole, valuable, and righteous. With him, we are more, so much more. We are beautiful. God, let my feet stand firmly established in who I am in you. I am so done talking with the devil and becoming absorbed with myself, and everything I am not. I am a child of God, bought by the precious blood of Christ, because he so loved. He could have forsaken, but he so loved. All is grace. All is found. Nothing is lost. I am rescued. I am redeemed.

Application: I will talk to one of my girl teammates about this IBS, and share things with her, that I normally would keep bottled up inside. 

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