This is my public forum. Here I express, confess, ignore, share, hide behind, hide in and expound upon a number of topics. My goal is to write about what living the life of a Believer is like and about how I live that life even if my only contribution to my local church congregation is as a “pew warmer” these days.
Sometimes I write poetry, share artwork, tell stories, give voice to other people whose testimonies expire me or simply tell it like I see it. Since it’s my blog, it’s my message, my testimony and my biggest obstacle is ME!
Yes, me! I can “own” that truth.
I don’t want to be labeled as a higher than thou Christian. So I hesitate to say anything that I fear might come across as judgemental.
I don’t want to be labeled an opponent to any political party, person or platform, so I don’t write about my political views.
I don’t want to be labeled as pious.
I don’t want to be labeled as a heretic.
I don’t want to be labeled as a reformer.
I don’t want to be LABELED.
Yet, I label myself. I box myself in. I limit myself. I second guess myself, my abilities, my motives, my knowledge, my thoughts; even my own voice.
Because I am me.
I am the first grader whose mother moved her to the last seat in the last row on her first day of school so the doctors daughter could sit where she wanted. I am the fat kid so teased and taunted in school she hid in the bathroom to cry. I am the child whose father ruled with anger and violence. I am the girl so terribly shy and found friends so hard to make that her families 13 moves in 12 years devastated her every single time. I am the girl no one wanted. I am the girl whose innocence was stolen and who never told until the thief died and his threats could not be carried out. I am the one who has waited in the wings of her own stage, left unpenned her own truth, and unsung her own life.
By these acts I have labeled myself.
For can a 49-year-old woman seriously look herself in the mirror and point at anyone other than herself for what her life is or isn’t? No, no I don’t think so.
See, my mother placed me in that last row, last seat BUT I have remained there. Jesus loved me enough to die for me AND I have chosen to think of myself as a person of little worth.
My father beat me, his beatings eventually led me to losing a leg and those events to losing my identity because I CHOSE to make what I did for a living who I was. The Living Word of God tells me I am the Daughter of God, not a job.
For every act, thought, or deed that a person outside of me did to wipe out me God has done a hundred times more to keep here. I have just been to busy labeling my boxes to understand.
Yes, this is where I am. This is who I am, warts, scars, flaws and all. I do not write like those whose opinions matter too much to me. I do write like me though.
If God’s okay with that, then I am too.
Let it be!