I am a big fan of being real.
I didn't used to be. I used to like being fake. I used to like building up walls and pictures and pretenses and profiles. I used to like being someone I wasn't because I thought who I was wouldn't be good enough to be liked. I didn't even know what I was doing... I didn't know my heart and mind. I didn't know I was wrapped around what people thought of me and how much people liked me. I didn't know that my actions hinged on how people would see me. I wasn't aware that I was subconsciously trying to calcuate my every move and make it perfect.
That's how my life was for nineteen years.
And then just after my nineteenth birthday I started a really hard job that ripped the floor out from under my feet and my life got messy. I got messy. And my perfect facade had to go away because there was no way I could keep it up when I could hardly keep my footing on life.
Two weeks into this job, in September, I woke up one morning and decided to get a tattoo. It wasn't planned. I had wanted one for a while but never took action. But I woke up and had to work at 1pm and decided: today, I will get a tattoo.
Set free.
That's what I decided on even though the two words had never had an overly large significant meaning in my life. It didn't matter. I called up a tattoo artist and asked him if he had any openings. He asked if I could be there in half an hour. I drove way over the speed limit, got to his shop, sat down in a chair and whimpered as the needle drove ink into the side of my hand.
Set free.
People asked about it and I told them it was because Jesus sets us free from everything. That there is nothing that can hold us down when we're in Him cause He's already won every battle. Alcoholism, fear, pain, addiction. It can't hold us down anymore. At the time, I didn't know I was still caged up. I wasn't set free. I was still valuing what people said more than anything else and that caused me to build iron bars around my life and lock myself in. I figured that Jesus set us free from drugs and beer. I figured I was set free because there was nothing I was addicted to.
But I was. I was addicted to something: people. Their thoughts of me. Their opinions of me. Their critism on my heart mattered more to me than what Jesus said.
This morning, a friend and I had a heart to heart. It was more like a fight, I think. Not that I'm a fan of fighting and not that I want to fight with people. I don't. But my friend pointed out all the stuff I'd done in the past five months that looked bad. Mind you, it wasn't biblically incorrect. None of my actions were. Nothing I did went against Jesus. In fact, if I hadn't have done some of the things I would have actually disobeyed scripture. But things looked bad. The picture of my life wasn't perfect. And because of that, I lost a friend. Two friends, actually. Because of the way things looked, I lost two of the people I cared about more than anything else in this world. Because I decided to take scripture seriously and stay true to what Jesus said- and that doesn't always look good- I lost someone. And it sucked. It does suck and it does hurt.
But the most ironic thing happened to me when I got down on my knees and sobbed my heart out and tried to pray my way through it. I realized that Jesus had set me free from that iron bar cage I had built around myself. I realized that at one time, if someone told me that the way I was living looked bad, I would have stopped. I would have listened without a second thought and stopped whatever I was doing. I'd give anything up to make myself look better.
Today? I won't. I don't care about how things look anymore. I don't hold the words that people throw at me above what scripture says. I do not count people's opinions higher than what Jesus whispers to me. I am not going to stop following Him, pursuing Him, seeking Him- just to look better. I am not going to stop taking risks or loving people or giving until it hurts just to look better. I am not going to change everything about me just to look better. I refuse to put up a front any more. I will never, ever, ever again try to build a fake profile or pretend to be perfect just to look better.
I used to. I used to do that day in and day out and it was exhausting. I didn't even know how hung up I was on other people. I didn't know how much energy and happiness it sucked from my life. The messages I got this morning didn't make me feel joyful. It hurt like hell. And it was hard. And I am battling through it. But I have decided to be real. And this is what is real and true about me:
I am messy. And I am human. And I will stumble and fall and I'll make mistakes and I'll hurt people. I'll kiss boys that I shouldn't kiss and say words I shouldn't say and do things I shouldn't do. But I will love people. With every ounce of this heart beating in my chest, I will love people. And I won't always love people perfectly but it doesn't mean I'll stop. And I will follow Jesus and I will take His words seriously. And as a result, He has set me free. Nearly five months after getting those seven letters tattooed on the side of my right hand, I finally understand them.
Jesus set me free. And boy, is it ever beautiful.
I didn't used to be. I used to like being fake. I used to like building up walls and pictures and pretenses and profiles. I used to like being someone I wasn't because I thought who I was wouldn't be good enough to be liked. I didn't even know what I was doing... I didn't know my heart and mind. I didn't know I was wrapped around what people thought of me and how much people liked me. I didn't know that my actions hinged on how people would see me. I wasn't aware that I was subconsciously trying to calcuate my every move and make it perfect.
That's how my life was for nineteen years.
And then just after my nineteenth birthday I started a really hard job that ripped the floor out from under my feet and my life got messy. I got messy. And my perfect facade had to go away because there was no way I could keep it up when I could hardly keep my footing on life.
Two weeks into this job, in September, I woke up one morning and decided to get a tattoo. It wasn't planned. I had wanted one for a while but never took action. But I woke up and had to work at 1pm and decided: today, I will get a tattoo.
Set free.
That's what I decided on even though the two words had never had an overly large significant meaning in my life. It didn't matter. I called up a tattoo artist and asked him if he had any openings. He asked if I could be there in half an hour. I drove way over the speed limit, got to his shop, sat down in a chair and whimpered as the needle drove ink into the side of my hand.
Set free.
People asked about it and I told them it was because Jesus sets us free from everything. That there is nothing that can hold us down when we're in Him cause He's already won every battle. Alcoholism, fear, pain, addiction. It can't hold us down anymore. At the time, I didn't know I was still caged up. I wasn't set free. I was still valuing what people said more than anything else and that caused me to build iron bars around my life and lock myself in. I figured that Jesus set us free from drugs and beer. I figured I was set free because there was nothing I was addicted to.
But I was. I was addicted to something: people. Their thoughts of me. Their opinions of me. Their critism on my heart mattered more to me than what Jesus said.
This morning, a friend and I had a heart to heart. It was more like a fight, I think. Not that I'm a fan of fighting and not that I want to fight with people. I don't. But my friend pointed out all the stuff I'd done in the past five months that looked bad. Mind you, it wasn't biblically incorrect. None of my actions were. Nothing I did went against Jesus. In fact, if I hadn't have done some of the things I would have actually disobeyed scripture. But things looked bad. The picture of my life wasn't perfect. And because of that, I lost a friend. Two friends, actually. Because of the way things looked, I lost two of the people I cared about more than anything else in this world. Because I decided to take scripture seriously and stay true to what Jesus said- and that doesn't always look good- I lost someone. And it sucked. It does suck and it does hurt.
But the most ironic thing happened to me when I got down on my knees and sobbed my heart out and tried to pray my way through it. I realized that Jesus had set me free from that iron bar cage I had built around myself. I realized that at one time, if someone told me that the way I was living looked bad, I would have stopped. I would have listened without a second thought and stopped whatever I was doing. I'd give anything up to make myself look better.
Today? I won't. I don't care about how things look anymore. I don't hold the words that people throw at me above what scripture says. I do not count people's opinions higher than what Jesus whispers to me. I am not going to stop following Him, pursuing Him, seeking Him- just to look better. I am not going to stop taking risks or loving people or giving until it hurts just to look better. I am not going to change everything about me just to look better. I refuse to put up a front any more. I will never, ever, ever again try to build a fake profile or pretend to be perfect just to look better.
I used to. I used to do that day in and day out and it was exhausting. I didn't even know how hung up I was on other people. I didn't know how much energy and happiness it sucked from my life. The messages I got this morning didn't make me feel joyful. It hurt like hell. And it was hard. And I am battling through it. But I have decided to be real. And this is what is real and true about me:
I am messy. And I am human. And I will stumble and fall and I'll make mistakes and I'll hurt people. I'll kiss boys that I shouldn't kiss and say words I shouldn't say and do things I shouldn't do. But I will love people. With every ounce of this heart beating in my chest, I will love people. And I won't always love people perfectly but it doesn't mean I'll stop. And I will follow Jesus and I will take His words seriously. And as a result, He has set me free. Nearly five months after getting those seven letters tattooed on the side of my right hand, I finally understand them.
Jesus set me free. And boy, is it ever beautiful.