growing up, or regressing?

A lot of people tell me that I am “mature.” “you look like you have it all together,” some say. This has always confused me. I have lots of problems. I don’t have it all together. I don’t always understand. I sometimes lose faith. I have serious mood swings. I cuss from time to time. I don’t feel like a very responsible person. I have occasional outbursts. I don’t have it all figured out.

Ok, what’s with all the confessions, you might ask. Well, I am finding that it’s pretty easy for me to hide the fact that I have problems. I am a master of appearing like I have it all together. I have always felt the compulsion to “be on top of things” and that if I failed I was a horrible person. But in this season of sorting through my life, becoming far more comfortable in my own skin, I am realizing that it’s really ok to not have it all together. It’s better, even, to not be perfect—in this world, at least. From the outside, it may look like I am regressing. I never cussed, rarely appeared upset, never voiced my opinions or my thoughts (good or bad). But I have stopped trying to “contain” myself and have allowed myself to let go. All of those things that I have held in are coming out. No, they are not all “good” but I can’t pretend anymore. I feel like I have been liberated. And God is teaching me more in this season than ever before.

I want to be raw, to be real and open. I want my life—my struggles and breakthroughs—to be an avenue for God to minister and to give hope. It’s a completely different way of living and relating than I’ve ever experienced. But as I come into this new understanding, I have seen my relationships grow deeper and have seen the Spirit move in new and powerful ways. It’s crazy.

Hiding is something I learned at a very young age. Ask me how I was and I would put on a smile and attempt to appear ok, just as my mom put on a smile and attempted to appear ok. Everyone thought I was reserved and mature. But no one knew that I hated myself, that depression consumed my life, that my overwhelming sense of fear and insecurity was what kept me so outwardly quiet and collected.

Inside I was screaming, but my fear kept me silent. I had thoughts and emotions, but it was easier for me to numb my mind to anything that had a chance of hurting me. For some, an outlet for such problems is more obvious, like alcohol or bad relationships. For me, it was completely internal. I closed myself in, hating myself, not understanding how I got to be so angry and sad, frustrated, wondering if this was all life was meant to be. Eventually, I quit taking part in all of my biggest passions (piano and soccer), and even fell away from the few friends I had. I knew nothing of joy or peace, or true acceptance. It was better to not even think about the state of my existence. I escaped into a fantasy, an ideal world in my mind, where love and fulfillment replaced anger and disappointment; a place where I was wanted and maybe even cherished.

My parents had been dragging me to church for several years since they became Christians when I was about nine years old, and I even thought that I must have been a “Christian,” but I was never really sure. I didn’t understand what was so great about a God that seemed so passive in my life; a God who wasn’t there in my darkest hours. I just didn’t get it. It wasn’t until recently that I realized the power of God’s hand in my life during that time. Now that I think about it, he was most likely what kept me from physically hurting myself.

Fast-forward a couple of years. I have fully accepted Christ as my Lord for a year and a half now. The God I know today is one of incredible love and peace and joy and revelation, and all of those things I longed for my entire life. God is repairing the deep hurt from the first 19 years of my life, making me into the woman he created me to be.

God does not intend for me to be perfect until I get to Heaven. In the mean itme, I am beginning to understand that He wants me to be completely and unashamedly me. I am still figuring out who that is, but He ministers to me and through me in the process. It’s pretty cool.

I think I am a lot more rough around the edges than most people think, at least more so than I have let people see in the past. But I feel like I am changed a little everyday. And so I press onward.

…
The more I seek you, the more I find you.
The more I find you, the more I love you.
I want to sit at your feet, drink from the cup in your hand,
lay back against you and breathe, feel your heatbeat.
This love is so deep, it's more than i can stand.
I melt in your peace, it's overwhelming.
- Christ for the Nations, The More I Seek You