I want to take a few moments to debunk the myth that I am a great spiritual figure and somehow worthy of the calling that God has brought me through in these last eight months. For those of you who are close to me or know me at all, you are nodding your head in agreement that I am in no way, shape, or form perfect.
However, I have noticed a growing trend of people messaging me with words such as, "I wish I had a relationship with God like you have." Or, "I would love to be the kind of person that you are." These are nice sentiments, and I know they are written by well-meaning individuals who love and care about me, but they have it all wrong.
I'm going to be brutally honest about myself for a moment. I firmly believe in shining a light in your heart and exposing darkness at all costs. So in an effort to encourage all well-wishers everywhere, I'm going to shoot straight with you.
I struggle. Hard. I signed up for the Race after almost talking myself out of it. But my beautiful Life Group continually encouraged me and lit a fire under my butt to apply. So I did so with half-hearted faith that God would provide.
It wasn't until one month before launch that I actually realized what I was doing. I was living my life overseas. It hit me that this life wouldn't be glamorous. It finally dawned on me that the person I was right at that moment was the person that would be ministering to prostitutes in Thailand in a mere three weeks. And I didn't know how I felt about that person.
I didn't respect my mother the way I should. My devotion to the Lord was still lacking. I continually set people on pedestals, placing them before the Lord. I found my identity in my peers. I questioned and doubted over and over again. I began to freak out, even considering postponing the Race for a few months so that I could get my act together.
By this point, I knew it was too late. I was committed. Ready or not, I was going.
The Lord quickly confirmed that I was in the right place. But that confirmation came at a painful price. Jesus quickly revealed many areas where my heart was selfish, lacking integrity, and still clinging to the world for dear life.
I remember a conversation I had with the Lord back in September. I poured out my heart. I was so confused as to how I would ever be a useful instrument of the Gospel. Finally, in absolute desperation, I cried, "Lord, you can take all of this. My heart is mangled, messy, unpredictable, and full of sin. But you can take it. Whatever you can salvage and use for your glory is yours. I'm yours."
It was only then that he began to use me. I learned what it is like to genuinely love people so much that it makes your body ache. I became broken over my sin. I repented over and over again.
I would like to say it was easy from that point. But it's not. It never is. I'm still unbelievably selfish sometimes. There are days where reading the Bible is the very last thing in the world that I want to do. I usually don't want to go to church because I space out too much. I still struggle with liking my body and my hair and believing that I was designed this way for a purpose. I still make promises that I can't keep. And I am still in need of saving. All of the time. Like, every second of every day.
I believe my story can provide hope. Not because I'm some great big inspiration. But because if God can save and choose and use me, He can save and choose and use you.
There is this crazy fallacy happening in our culture these days. It's this idea that God is looking for 'good people'. Like, "let's clean ourselves up and go to church and then God will use us and it will be magical and fun." But when Jesus called the disciples it was a mere, "Drop your nets and follow me." Jesus didn't say, "Go home, take a shower, clean yourselves up and I'll meet you for dinner tonight."
Because the cleaning up process comes as we walk next to Jesus. As we watch Him move, and love, and heal others, we feel Him doing the same thing in us. That's precisely what happened to me. I dropped my net. I dropped my will to 'clean myself up'. I dropped my religious ideals. I dropped my pride. I dropped my grip on the world. And I followed.
Simple as that.
And that is all you have to do too. Anyone could do what I am doing. I kid you not, anyone.
It only takes a willing heart. My word. I sit in awe of my life all the time because there's only one word for all of it: grace.
His grace is sufficient for His power is made perfect in my weakness.
I thank the Lord that He isn't in the business of looking for perfect people. I praise Him for my past and the person I was because it serves as a testimony to the person He is designing me to be. I praise Him that I can let go of this idea that if I don't read my Bible for a day then He won't use me in ministry that afternoon. I thank Him that I need saving every second of every hour of every day because it reminds me how much I need Him. I thank Him that He brought me here, kicking and screaming.
I'm not perfect. Neither are you. But God wants to use us to change the world. It's time we take the focus off of what we can and can't do. It's time we stop looking at other people's devotion to Jesus in admiration and wishing we had what they have. We can. In fact, we must. There is too much at stake. Too many people are living in nightmare realities with no escape. If your heart doesn't break for them, then you need to ask Jesus to make it break. Every single conversion in the Bible resulted in dramatic transformation and passionate proclamation of the love of Jesus. Do those stories reflect your life? Because until a few months ago, it didn't reflect mine.
Once we genuinely realize how imperfect we are, we can understand the goodness of grace and can not help but sing,
"Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now I'm found, was blind but now I see.
'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
and grace my fears relieved;
how precious did that grace appear
the hour I first believed."
