For the longest time, I operated as one version of myself. Let’s call her “Party Christi” for simplicity’s sake.
She was fun. Super fun.
From junior high through about age 22, I lived “la vida loca” for fun as Party Christi; for the most part, anyway. I also was an honor student and an athlete and I had a moral compass that was relatively straight…most days you only had to tap it once for the arrows to shake out correct. I also really loved people, even back then.
When I think back, I remember all the good grades and kindness and, you know, stuff. But, really, fun was my bottom line and I laughed and partied and danced my way through life those years.
Until fun just wasn’t a possibility anymore.
My dad was dying.
It was a lot of things. A lot of emotions. A lot of change. A lot of awful loss. It was not, could not be, fun or any sort of party.
So I spent a lot of time crying, some time in therapy, and then decided I was done feeling for a time and made some really bad decisions. I call this my “month of August.”
For one whole month, in a way that is so typically type A telling, I intentionally avoided my emotions and decided upon dancing.
Hello, Kanye West. And so so much hip hop music.
I realize now I spent that month searching. For something.
For everything.
Could I possibly live and love and laugh fully without feeling the awful pain of losing my dad?
Of course the answer was no. Goodness sakes, Dad had died the month before. I was a wreck. I needed grounding and processing and peace and grief all at once.
I needed God.
It was four more months before I found Him. And Party Christi was long gone.
I didn’t know who I was but I did know who I wanted to be. And in another typically Christi move, I wrote it down. I still have it. I LOVE that I still have it.
Here’s a little excerpt: I want to not run away from hugging people in the grocery story. I want to smile first. I want to give more than I receive. I want to live a life that has a legacy beyond me.”
As I started to love Jesus, Party Christi got left in the dust. Not intentionally, but it just seemed right. I worshipped Fun before and now I was trying to worship God. It was an A and B situation that C needed to see its way out of. So Fun became the annoying girl in high school who kept trying to sneak into my biology group and I kept avoiding. Like the plague.
Over the years, Party Christi popped up fairly often and I pushed her back down. Sometimes it was God led and sometimes it was Christi, just Christi, led. I remember friends commenting too. One asked me if I could even remember when I was fun. Another told me if I took shots underneath the bar, God couldn’t see me there.
I had done a 180 and it was hard for my friends to relate to and grasp who I was becoming.
Heck, it was hard for me.
I was terrified. How can any part of me exist in Party Christi? Wait, but I was her. And what if I let her back in, even a little bit? I was horrified that Party Christi would lead my life and direct all of my footsteps and before long they would turn into dance steps.
Even worse, drunk dance steps.
One day I was playing basketball with a friend and we stopped to take a break. This friend was particularly competitive and intelligent and extroverted and so I knew she must have a lot to say, a lot of the time. I asked her about how she handled that as a Christian. I think my question sounded something hilariously ridiculous like, “Now that I love God and all that, am I supposed to be a quiet woman? What happens to me laughing really loud and having opinions and being silly?”
What I was really asking but wasn’t saying, was: How do I get to be me and love Christ? The bible says all this stuff about what a woman should be and I’m not so certain I am her.
I’m still not certain.
I’m still learning.
In loving Christ, I allowed Him to change me.
And change I did.
Here’s just a few things that have happened as a result: I love my body better. I became a therapist. I give grace way more freely. I prioritize people and their needs better than before. I prioritize my own needs better than before. I forgive easier. My heart is softer and more open.
I love this New Christi. She’s so much nicer than Party Christi. She’s way less sloppy and way more centered in who she is. She’s much more stable, but sometimes she is more quiet. She’s probably less fun, that’s for sure.
I’m still struggling to love them both. Wholly.
In this journey of change, I find myself trying to wrap my head around how I can leave Party Christi in the dust and march on forward with New Christi.
But it feels awful. And shame-filled. And unsettled.
Because that’s not what I really want.
In the past 5 years, I’ve found myself on an airplane praying for sexual purity with a new boyfriend. I’ve been at a work retreat, embarrassed because I started dancing. I’ve been in a tattoo parlor, anxiously thinking about how my nose ring is going to go over as a therapist. I’ve been at a Trivia Fundraiser wanting to be the most fun version of myself bopping around, while also wanting to sit quietly and drink in the overwhelming love around me.
Party Christi collides into New Christi.
Each day.
Every hour.
In any minute.
What I really want is to be me. All of me.
And God says, “Ok, so let’s do it already.”
He doesn’t want me to shame myself or not accept myself or not allow myself into the space of belonging to Him. With Him.
Loving Christ means we’re accepted, all of us. Everything. Every little thing.
But loving Christ also means losing. I know, I know, that’s an awful feeling statement right?
But it’s true.
There’s a whole life I lived without loving Him. And in that life, I loved things I shouldn’t have. And leaving those things behind sometimes leaves holes in our hearts. Necessary holes. Needed holes. But gaping areas of need nonetheless. And I have to figure out, we have to figure out, how to allow Christ into those areas. And how to accept Him as enough.
Because He really is.
More than enough.
More than we can even understand or grasp.
The way He fills those holes is better. Bigger. Fuller than anything the world, or parts of Party Christi, can give you or I.
Lord, I pray today for those of us changing and growing in You. God it’s a painful process filled with stretching and filling and allowing You into these really raw parts of our selves. Thanks for giving us the strength and courage to choose You. God I pray you would fill up those spaces and bring us comfort. Lord I pray that your love would seep in and that we would love ourselves and see ourselves the way that you love us. All of us.
And God I pray that we could get to dance together. A lot.
Amen.
