For the longest time I always tried to ensure that I do not bombard the world with my faith. I packaged it in the most acceptable manner possible, just enough to not choke the next person. I feared that if all my writing was laced with the word I would scare off readers. I was afraid that if I wrote about the word I would create this expectation of perfection. That I will then need to be this perfect born again image of Christ. Instead I opted to write about the broken parts of me, because I know that everyone can relate to those. It meant I would be honest, but not entirely. It meant that I would write about my struggles and leave a beautiful motivation towards the end of the pieces, but they lacked one thing. The whole story, because after every single heart break, I always knew where to run to find solace. After every single let down, disappointment and broken place in my life, I had the key to finding peace. Only I never shared the key, because I thought that it would depict an image I wasn’t ready to embrace, a believer.
Where is the shame, right? Why shy away from the one thing that took up most of my life and create a writing journey that lacked the biggest part of who I am? The truth is I comforted myself in thinking that this was private, that I owned this part of my life and no prying eyes could see this part of me. I could go to church and just be me. I could spend worship alone, knowing that this part of my life is mine. That is true, but I was lying. I was lying in that, yes I would have that part of me be mine, but I was not being truthful about it all. I was afraid of being labeled a believer or the Christian who didn’t always get it right. I didn’t want to have my life put up in light of who Christ is, because I knew my life did not come close to what Christ would want it to look like, until today.
Nothing changed drastically, except my acceptance of self. That I am in no way perfect, heck I am probably so far from where I ought to be, but aren’t many of us? Would I not be doing myself and anyone who reads my work a great injustice in that I am not being my true authentic self? Broken, but covered in grace. Striving to walk like Christ, but falling more than I would like to count. That is the truth, and is that not what makes me relate-able? That my journey may not be perfect, but I am trying - trying to grow in Christ, trying to know who He is to me. Finding my way in His purpose and learning all that He has called me to be, whatever that may look like. It simply means that I am not perfect, but I am trying.
My journey is eons away from where I know it ought to be, but I pray that God may lead my steps and I may find my way with Him at the center of it all. Regardless how messy it may look, I know that He is working on me. As I am sure He is working on you.
I recently had a chat with a friend of mine and I realized how starved I was of the word. I mean starved of the word in the sense that I badly wanted to engage in conversations about Christ, I wanted someone to talk to who can relate to my fight with sin, someone who understood the daily struggle to live right and in accordance to the word. It hit me then, that if I am starved of the word and someone who can relate to my struggles, isn’t that the same as having water and refusing to give it to someone, which is what I have been doing with my writing. Always striving to sound like every other writer my age, hoping that that will make my writing more real, only I was trying to duplicate what I had seen other people do and not owning myself as I am. In that my writing will be different, but the one thing it must have, is the true authentic me.
Welcome to the real unfiltered me – for the umpteenth time.
May this day be filled with your wisdom. May I walk in your wisdom and be able to apply the lessons taught in the book of Proverbs. I know that I am far from perfect, and I know that your strength is made perfect in my weakness. Strengthen the areas in which I fall short, guide my steps in the path you have long since laid out for me and protect me from the things that aim to harm me.