Vulnerability. A Christian buzzword that is spoken on the daily, but how vulnerable are we? How vulnerable am I in actuality? A tough question when you really put it to yourself. So, for once, I’m going to try to be transparent about who I am and where I’ve been. Some of this might surprise or shock you, some of it may sound familiar, some of it may hurt someone(I hope and pray that it doesn’t, because no matter what love is my motivation to write this,) but this is who I am; who I’ve discovered Kyle to be.
Bear with me, folks, and buckle your seatbelts.
The Race has been teaching me a lot about being relational; with the body of Christ, with the nations of the world, with God through His son. It’s that last one, however, that’s giving me problems.
Ya see, people are easy to get along with; sure you can always learn how to love them better and get past those walls to learn who they truly are, but God has always given me the ability to look deep into people’s character and soul. I’ll be honest when I say that I figure out what makes people tick about 90% of the time. I can read how they act on the outside to understand the hurts and triumphs they hold deep inside that causes them to see and act upon the world they live in.
It’s a blessing when I use it to minister the Gospel and sew love into people’s lives, but He knows I’ve abused it. I’ve manipulated people into doing what I need them to for a long time; the women I’ve dated, my family, my friends, and even my enemies. Odds are that if you’re reading this and I know you personally, you’ve been manipulated by me. All have played into my selfish desires for identity at some point. Which is what this blog is all about:
Identity. Such a simple word, such a complicated meaning.
A long time ago, before high school, I started to experience/understand those things which plague a young man: feelings for girls, the pressure to perform, becoming a man, being accepted by your peers, trying to figure out where you came from and learning why you are here. It’s heavy stuff, so no wonder most anti-suicide campaigns focus on pre-teens and teenagers. I didn’t know the answers and I didn’t have a father to ask. I’ve learned in the past few years that not having a father to bestow manhood upon you can create a lot of problems, the biggest one being not being able to trust a Heavenly Father. I’ll admit, I resent not having a dad, it hurts. My mom and my grandparents did an amazing job, they know that. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without them, but I know that my walk was much harder and it made finding my identity nearly impossible not knowing my father.
Yet, there was something more. Something deeper than that, and it took going on the World Race to have it brought to the surface. Let’s go back to my formative years. I was an introvert most of my life; I enjoyed spending time by myself, reading, playing outside, and I had a vivid imagination and I never really got lonely. But then that hard stuff started happening, and I fought with my step-dad, and I didn’t feel like a good big brother to my new sisters. I started craving the attention of other people, needing it to feel worthy; like that would put me at ease. So I made myself become extroverted, to become everyone’s buddy I had to become a wearer of masks. So for maybe the next decade I was whoever you needed me to be, and I took the traits of everyone I’ve met and admired, made an ideal fantasy self, and tried to hold myself to those impossible standards to the point of depression.
That’s what I used to think: that I made myself an extrovert but really the opposite was true; I was terrified of facing my lack of identity, my real self, in those moments I was alone. I didn’t know it was God trying to make me realize my need for Him back then. I couldn’t stand to be alone for an instant, because I knew I’d have to face those fears that I buried, those unanswered questions about who I was. This put me in a endless cycle of looking for things to make my identity out of; the two biggest being throwing my love heedlessly out to women while forcing them to live with the fears I had, and by clinging to my fantasy self to escape reality. I was suicidal for the latter part of my teen years and my very early twenties(sorry mom) because I couldn’t attain the fantasy self I desired, but I couldn’t dare face the real me. Now the Race is causing me to face those fears, those questions. I’m striving to be alone now with God, to find out what I’m made of and know that I’m worthy and have value.
So I bet you’re saying to yourself, “Well, that’s quite a confession/rant/story, but what’s the point? What have you learned?”
The truth is: not much actually, but now I think I understand one key thing about the human race. We all have identity crises, we all desire to be valued; an inherit NEED for acceptance and love. We had it once, before the Fall. We had an identity that was fueled by relationship with God. We were not ashamed because we had trust and reliance on Him. But this is a topic I will go into at a later time.
For now I speak to the fears in you, the hard places you’ve ran from, and to the perhaps broken identity in you that needs healing. You are valued and you do NOT have to compare yourselves to others to gain it. Trust that the one who created you to be loved and fought for will do that; that He will walk with you into that battle.
Please my friends, I beg you, do NOT live like I have! Take what is given to you freely, and in that way be free to serve those around you. Because that’s what Jesus is, a Servant-King. He came to this earth to serve us and pay the blood-price on our heads, only to be lifted to the highest seat and He invites us to sit at the dinner table with Him. To eat and drink with Him and celebrate.
My name is Kyle and I know who I am. I am the son of a servant. I am the son of the King.
Axios,
Kyle
