It’s so calculated. I feel like an act at the circus, a dancing bear or a puppet. You say dance and I dance.
The perfect mix of “I desperately want your love” and “I don’t give a flying flip.” I push and pull, like a saw blade trying to cut through a redwood.
I so want to please. I so want to earn. The ever so finicky critics speak words of snark that are just enough to keep me going.
I edit and reedit. Change clothes 1,000 times. Rework the words, rework the angle. Cue punch line. Affirm me. Tell me I’m enough. Notice me. Acknowledge me. Something. Give me something. Likes and comments, followers and mentions. It’s all a numbers game and I’m really bad at math.
Spinning in circles like a hamster in a wheel. It’s all for you. Surely you know it’s all for you. You control my destiny. You decide the next step. You create my box, you write my role and you’ll believe I’m her. Whoever you are, whoever you want me to be, you need me to be. I’m there. A seamless performer.
Funny thing is that I hate boxes. They freak me out. I don’t like to be labeled. I don’t like to be tied down, to be expected to be a certain thing because what if I change? What if I’m not what you expect? Then mayhem, chaos. You question who I really am, I question who I really am and that’s too much work. So hand me the mask and I’ll get on with the part. Speaking or silent, dancing or singing. I’ll be flawless. One less worry on your mind.
I am a slave to red hearts and thumbs that point up. As much as I don’t want to admit it, you define my heart. But no more, because there is a hint of the dream.
A dream that one day my heart will no longer seek the approval of mankind, but thrive on the voice of God alone.
Then I wake up from this dream and my heart is still seeking. Seeking and running as though I was put on a treadmill where my feet are glued and they forgot to install a stop button.
But I just want to stop.
Stop.
But I can’t stop because when I do, the ache of my heart will scream.
I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave my sister. I don’t want to meet strangers whose faces I have solely seen on Facebook. I want comfort and certainty and the approval of my decision. Yet, I won’t get it. I love Jesus. I love Him and the goodness that He brings and the comfort that I find when I solely depend on him. I love hearing his voice.
You see, when I stop and listen to Him, the screaming walls of my heart that once were overbearing become quiet and distant. Then, I can’t wait. I can’t wait to keep running, but this time not to the finish line where everyone is cheering for me. Instead, I’m running and the only one in the fan section is Jesus.
He’s encouraging and cheering for ME.
I so want to please Him. I so want to earn His love. I so want to understand why he pursues relentlessly after me. My human mind can’t wrap around the Godly grace and the relationship that is given.
Maybe I can learn to stop the auditions and stop putting on costumes. I can put the mask down. He already sees me. I can’t win the approval of everyone. I’m no better than any of my friends. I’m going on a mission trip, but that doesn’t mean that my faith is the strongest or that I don’t have weeks where I doubt and question if I’m really doing the right thing.
Less than 150 days until my feet are taken to unknown soil.
By all means, I’m seeking for the dream.
Sometimes it hits you that the world seems to be moving a million miles an hour in the blink of an eye. I’m not ready for it, but I don’t think I’ll ever be. But it’s coming and if I choose to chase after my dream instead of the red hearts, I might…
He overcame everything that was meant to destroy her.
In essence. I have no idea if any of this made sense, but it’s worth the try.
