“It’s a story about letting yourself be loved, in all your imperfect, scarred, non-spectacular glory.” – Present Over Perfect
People tend to naturally be drawn to movies, experiences, and books that are real, raw, and vulnerable. There is a desire inside all of us to connect with something that is tangibly raw because the concept of rawness is foreign to the American culture. Think about it, nobody wants to watch a movie where the hero doesn’t experience some vulnerable moment or challenge right before he saves the world. We are inclined to watch shows about real life families that experience true hardships, and we root for the underdog because we relate so well to him. However, when we snap into reality, nobody seems to want to be vulnerable or open about what they are going through. Instead, we create our “picture perfect” lives for everyone else to see on social media. When people ask us how we are doing we say good and carry-on, even if we are falling apart inside. We stuff our emotions and use work, Netflix, exercise, sex, alcohol, drugs, food, sports, music (you fill in the blank) to distract us from ourselves. We do this because, somewhere along the way we learned that vulnerability is weakness. That if we show people how we truly feel, then we risk rejection, judgment, disappointment (again…you fill in the blank). But isn’t there something uniquely beautiful in those raw and vulnerable moments? You know, the ones where everything is stripped away and you’re truly honest with yourself, and maybe even other people?
For me, I am someone that has constantly created the picture of having it all together. I expected perfection from myself, and I thought that other people expected perfection from me as well. I was afraid to let people and the Lord into my messy places because I didn’t want to seem weak or give the appearance that I need help. I have always been extremely independent and our society has also painted the picture that expressing emotion is weakness. I dare to say the opposite, expressing emotion is brave. When you have the courage to admit to yourself, the Lord, and other people what you’re feeling, it does a few things. First, it allows you to truly feel and prevents you from stuffing your emotions (which I am a professional at). Secondly, it invites other people to be vulnerable with themselves and the Lord. Finally, it allows people to speak truth into your struggles and to walk through those issues alongside of you. Guess what? No one has it altogether, no one can do it all on their own, and no one is great all of the time. As hard as I try, I can’t carry all of these problems on my own, and every time I try it always ends badly. So why is it so hard for me to be vulnerable, and ask for help?
When I first decided to come on the World Race, I had this huge vision and desire to spread the love of Jesus to people all over the globe (and I still do). What I never considered is how much inward change I would experience. I thought that focusing on myself while on the field is extremely selfish, but the Lord has been teaching me that He can’t use a broken vessel to share His love. First He must fix and refine the vessel before it can pour out. Before He can fix the vessel, I had to first invite Him into those places. The journey of allowing the Lord to heal my heart from years of wounds is not a quick-fix process. Honestly, sometimes I don’t even know why I am feeling a certain way, so I have to sit before the Lord and ask Him to reveal the root of why I am upset. Each time I sit and invite the Lord into those deep, closed off places, He always brings healing and truth. Yes, I still feel hurt from the roots that he has dug up, but the next time it comes up the pain isn’t quite as sharp. Healing, I’m learning is a cycle of the Lord re-hashing the same wound to bring different perspective and in-turn healing in a different way. Maybe some wounds are one and done, but most have layers and need to be dealt with in layers. There is nothing wrong with being messy, it’s really a beautiful kind of pain. It’s beautiful because the Lord brings restoration, and He is capable of healing even the most painful wounds. I didn’t even realize that I was carrying so many wounds until I took the time to sit with the Lord and ask Him to reveal the root of why I was feeling a certain way.
On our flight to Albania, I met a man named Josh who is in the Army and has been stationed in Uganda for the past two years. I hate flying with a passion and I get nervous/anxious, and usually I take some medicine to knock myself out. I hadn’t slept well the past two days, and I had just taken my drugs so that I could hopefully get some rest. As I sat waiting to drift off, I felt the Holy Spirit nudging me to talk to Josh, but I really didn’t want to. I begrudgingly took out my earbuds and started a conversation thinking “I’ll talk to him for an hour or so and then get some rest”. Six hours later, we are still talking and I do not regret one second of it. I have never had a complete stranger be so open and vulnerable with me. I found out that he comes from a family of extreme brokenness and addiction which broke my heart. I felt as though I was talking to a shell of a man, who joined the military for 20 years to escape from his own living hell. We talked and laughed and I told him all about my trip but then our conversation turned to religion. He told me that he grew up Catholic (he knew a lot about the Bible) but then he said that he doesn’t believe in heaven or hell. He went on to tell me that he takes what he wants from each religion and kind of creates his own beliefs. As I listened, it truly broke my heart because I could hear the searching for truth in his voice. I shared all about what it was like for me to have a relationship with Jesus, and I shared my raw experiences. I explained why I believe Jesus is the only way to heaven and that for me religion was not what I have. I looked into his eyes, and I explained to him what it’s like to talk to Jesus. I told him it’s as easy as the conversation we were having. As we started to descend, I felt the Spirit prompting me to ask if I could pray for him and his family before we got off the plane. He gave me permission, so I just prayed for his mom, family, and for him/them to know Jesus. When I finished I looked up to see tears in his eyes, and he told me that no one has ever prayed for him before. I am sure that I didn’t hide my shock very well, because that just blew my mind. I don’t know if Josh will ever know Jesus, but I do know that he taught me something about what it means to be real. He never tried to hide who he was or what he believed or what he was going through. He didn’t try to pretend that he has some great life that he loves, and he didn’t paint some glamorous picture of military life. He could’ve told me anything he wanted, but he chose to bear his soul to a complete stranger.
I’ve been so committed to prove that I can handle it all. One of the reasons I believe in God is because I can so clearly see His hand guiding me to the unlikeliest of places to find the healing I’ve been searching for all along (paraphrased from Present Over Perfect-read it). I am learning that for me, healing comes in the silence and stillness. It’s in the silence that I can allow myself to be seen before the Lord, and it’s in the being seen that healing can begin. For so long, I have been afraid to admit that I have need and that need is Jesus. It begins with pushing through the discomfort of admitting those needs even when I don’t want to. This book is teaching me that the only way through the emptiness is stillness- staring at that deep wound unflinchingly. You can’t outrun anything. I’ve tried. I’m finding that the healing happens in silence.
“When you begin to carry God’s love like a treasure chest, you realize that you don’t have to fling yourself around the planet searching for those things outside yourself. You only have to go back into the stillness to locate it. That treasure you’ve been searching for-for so long-was there all the time.”
-Present Over Perfect
