When I was little I always wanted to be in the spotlight.
I wanted to be in front of the camera every time mom had it out. I wanted to be the star of the show, I wanted to direct people and situations, I wanted a say, I wanted an invitation to join into everything. And that has continued on into the rest of my life, in some really good ways, but also in some really damaging ones.
Even diving deeper into my relationship with Jesus, I wanted that. I wanted to be Beth Moore or Christine Caine or Jen Hatmaker. I wanted the seemingly glamorous role of leading tons of people to Jesus because I thought that when I got to that place, it would mean I had it all together. I knew leadership was a God-given gifting and passion, but the whole stewarding it well thing, or even understanding it at all, was far from perfect. I thought that leadership meant having answers. That leadership meant elevation and success. I wanted a voice.
As it turns out, that voice sounds a little different than I thought it would, and that light shines a lot brighter than I ever wished.
The Lord gave me a daunting picture the other day. He and I were standing smack dab in the middle of a very crowded walking street. People were everywhere, and they were staring and whispering and pausing as they walked by.
Mountains of luggage surrounded us. Some looked really pretty from the outside, but couldn’t even be picked up because of how heavy they were. Others were unable to maintain such a beautiful façade, and sat worn and torn like the sin they carried. All my bags were piled high, with a mess of my crap overflowing from every last one.
insecurities. pride. lies. worries. disobedience. vanity. greed.
Some said I’m too much, don’t look at me.
Others begged for an answer to when they’d be enough.
You might be curious as to what Jesus is doing there.
You might also be surprised to know that He’s not there to rescue me.
He’s the one that put me there.
Don’t get me wrong though. I’m not there for Jesus’ vengeance or for my own punishment. He isn’t laughing at me—he isn’t hanging me out to dry.
He’s asking me to be an example for Him. He asking me to let the whole world see what a mess I am so that they can see even clearer how beautiful and breathtaking and all together wonderful He is. He’s asking me to drop my crap and follow Him to hard places. He’s asking me to be more like Him. He’s making me into His radiant Bride. And it is ugly and messy and sometimes it feels like a punch to the gut when a new revelation comes of how much deeper my sin goes.
He’s showing me that in all my vulnerability and nakedness,
the Word becomes flesh over and over again in me.
Vulnerability. It’s a big word on the Race. It’s a word we cling to because we live in such tight community. Everyday we have to step out and choose to be open, choose to risk rejection, to risk embarrassment, to risk being misheard in order that community would grow us.
But here’s the thing I’ve seen. A lot of people get hurt by vulnerability and then run from it as hard and as fast as they can. They stand with Jesus in the middle of the crowded street and all they see are the people pointing and laughing and judging and they hightail it back to safety. You know why? Because they’ve decided that vulnerability is about making people their safe place.
And that just ain’t it y’all.
Vulnerability is only healthy when we make God our safe place. When we learn that if we are hidden in Him, we are enough. It’s only then that we can walk with boldness into the obedience the Lord has called us to, so that even when we meet rejection or misunderstanding or strife, the core of who we are is not shaken. Because our hearts are hidden in His secret place. There they are always safe– there they thrive.
For me, the life and leadership the Lord has called me to means something along the lines of standing with Jesus, exposed before all of man, drenched in my insecurities, surrounded by all the chaos I’ve made, entrenched in my unlimited faults and saying, “Okay Jesus. I know Your leadership is safe and it is good and I’m willing to do whatever You need me to do to glorify Your Name.”
The cool thing is, I have a really good Dad. And He doesn’t just stand there with me, letting all the things He’s exposed sit and rot. No, He is standing next to me, making every last suitcase disappear, revealing the beauty He’s placed in and around me. He’s turning the rags I’m wearing into a beautiful wedding gown, stitch by stitch.
He’s making me new.
And if that process has to happen in front of everyone, then so be it,
because that is how badly I want to be like Him.
That is how completely ravished by His love that I am.
That is how brave He makes me feel.
