Faith

four-minute friday: self-awareness

Go. I recently realized that I'm not very self-aware. Which, for someone who isn't self-aware, is a pretty big realization to come to. I'm just sayin.

I don't feel as though I have a good understanding of my own personality.

I don't connect the dots about things going on in my life. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. I just don't seem to be cognizant that A + B might've equaled the C I'm currently feeling.

When I hear friends describe themselves or explain how they usually respond in certain situations or say that what they ate yesterday is messing up their GI track today, I always think, "Wow. How did they figure that out?!"

It just hit me that my lack of self-awareness might play a big role in my inability to choose favorites. Or be decisive. Because, honestly, a lot of the time I legitimately don't know what I like. When I shrug and say I don't have a preference, it's because I really don't know what I'd prefer.

I feel like the chick on Runaway Bride who doesn't know how she likes her eggs cooked.

Although I do know how I like my eggs. If breakfast burrito counts as an answer. Seriously, cheese and salsa make just about anything better. That much I know for sure.

But for most everything else, I sincerely don't know what I like. Or how I typically process things. Or even if my tummy issues are triggered by a certain food. I simply don't know.

Because I'm just not self-aware enough to understand me.

What is up with THAT?!

Done.

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authenticity isn't found in the rearview mirror

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I’ve often prided myself in my ability to share openly about things I've gone through, things I've struggled with. But then I realized it was only because they were past tense. I am being open and honest, but about my then, not my now.

It's easier to share my weaknesses after I've strengthened them. It's safer to talk about my failures once I've bounced back from them.

But it's not really authenticity if it's after the fact.

Genuine authenticity is transparent and unguarded and vulnerable.

And while there is some level of that in sharing about past struggles, nothing is quite as authentic as sharing about current struggles.

No matter what else I do in this year of risking more, nothing will be as hard as the risks I take with my heart.

But they are risks I want to take.

I desire the intimacy and closeness that comes with true authenticity. I crave the matchless relational connection that's borne out of putting my heart on the line.

Even though it leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

I'm learning that with those I trust, I can be naked and unashamed.

So I'm stripping down and working on being more authentic in the moment.

And hoping the "unashamed" part will follow.

we've gotten it all wrong with the prodigal son

I shut my eyes tightly as worship started, forcefully trying to block out the thousands of others around me. I desperately needed to connect with God in a way I hadn't allowed myself in far too long. And as I asked Him to meet me in that place of brokenness, the Prodigal Son came to mind.

The story seemed to unfold behind my closed eyes, and a tear trickled down my face as I saw the father run out to embrace his son. God reminded me that it was Him running out to meet me.

No matter how far I've wandered, no matter how broken and messed up I've become, no matter how grimy and soiled I am, He runs out to meet me.

I saw with fresh eyes as He wrapped His robe of righteousness around me. He put His ring on my finger to remind me of the seal of His Spirit in my heart. And He didn't just call for the fattened calf. He sent His prize Lamb---the perfect Lamb of God---to be sacrificed for me.

I think we got it all wrong in calling this the Story of the Prodigal Son.

I think it's actually the Story of the Prodigal Father.

Prodigal means recklessly extravagant, lavishly abundant.

And that is the perfect description of the love the Father embraces His broken children with.

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thank God!

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It's really hard for me to remain thankful in all things. In moments of disappointment, hurt, anger, frustration, impatience, whatever, it's often impossible difficult to lift my eyes and say, "I will thank You anyway." And as if that weren't a sufficient enough challenge, I'm not just instructed to be thankful in all things. I'm commanded to be thankful for all things.

"Always giving thanks to God the Father for everything..."

Sigh.

That means I need to live from a heart that readily says---

  • Thank You for my husband's infidelity.
  • Thank You for his decision to leave me.
  • Thank You for this loneliness.
  • Thank You for yet another high-pain day.
  • Thank You for the uncertainty and the unknowns.

I need to start thanking God for my "all things". Even before they work together for good.

Thanking Him even for what hurts and confuses me, develops trust. It helps me acknowledge that He's in control, and that He has even this---whatever this may be---in His hands. Thanking Him for what makes my heart ache, builds my faith.

And my faith sure needs building.

But, to be honest, I'm nowhere near there yet. I don't know when I'll be able to say with a sincere and genuine heart, "Thank You even for this."

But this week I am going to start praying, "Lord, I want to want to thank You, even for this..."