This blog isn’t like any of my recent ones, and it’s also a bit longer. I’ve been pushing this blog off for quite some time. Not because this last month has been anything less than all the incredible experiences I’ve been describing in my most recent blogs. I really have dove to new depths of understanding God’s love for his children. I’ve reaped the fruit of pushing into difficult things. I’ve experienced life-altering love, hospitality, and kindness from the people in Chile. It has been all of that and so much more – I don’t want this blog to change that.
I’ve been pushing off writing this blog because of fear. A fear built around my own insecurity. I’ve been hiding from all the shame I’ve felt from my vulnerability, the embarrassment I’ve experience when I cry, and the fear of burdening the people around me with my feelings.
I’m deciding to no longer hide. This blog main purpose it to invite to pray with me as I push off the weight of my insecurity and learn to walk in the security Christ offers in the midst of my weakness.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been super in touch with how I feel. I might not always do a great job at explaining it, but that’s where crying became a huge part of the way I process things. I am someone who cries more than the average person. I am someone who is vastly vulnerable with my emotions, often referred to as wearing them on my sleeve. I am someone who normally isn’t afraid of sharing exactly how I feel. I am someone who loves to go deep. I am someone who feels greatly, and tries to love even harder. It’s who I am. If you asked the people closest to me, they would describe these things as some of my biggest strengths. I beg to differ. I’ll argue that they can at times be strengths but most times are my biggest weaknesses. I’ve always been conscious of the influence that my vulnerability, openness, and deep feeling has, but I’ve never really been proud of it. It’s actually one of the things I hate most, yet somehow never can stop myself from doing.
I process differently than almost everyone I find myself closest to. They tend to be people who don’t talk about how they are feeling unless poked and prodded. For me, all you have to do to get me to spill my heart is just ask how I’m doing, but you don’t even need to ask most times because chances are I’ll reach out to you. They are people who cry in private and almost never talk about it. But if I need to cry, I cry no matter where I am or who is around, not that I always want to but it happens. Along the way somewhere I noticed this immense difference, and started shaming myself for it. I begin perceiving how I thought people felt about me to be burdensome and assigned that thought to everyone, despite their opposition. No matter how much they claimed to love and care, and even wanted to listen to my heart, I always found some ounce of fear deep down convincing myself I was too much.
I realized this went beyond the shame I had built from wearing my emotions on my sleeve. I felt insecure because this difference threatened my sense of identity. It felt like inadequacy or failure or condemnation rather than a mercy. My response was avoidance.
Over the span of nearly two months, I’ve simply refused to cry, avoided it at all costs. I was proud of it. I saw it as an accomplishment, I thought I finally could do what everyone around me already could. I thought by avoiding it all together that I was pushing off the confirmation of some of my worst fears about myself. I suppressed all the emotions of saying hard goodbyes as I left for the race. I’ve tried to hide from my feelings as I experienced all the newness of living in community, rigorous ministry schedules, exhaustion, and sickness. I poured those emotions into attempting to love people harder, building up those around me anytime I started to feel low, and chose to only focus on the amazing things happening all around me. Fleeing from my insecurity isn’t the issue here, but mere avoidance only served as a quick fix and a distraction. “When we feel insecure, God is inviting us to escape the danger of false beliefs about who we are, why we’re here, what we should do, and what we’re worth, and to find peaceful refuge in what he says about all those things.”
I finally broke down, and cried. This is when I decided it was time for change. This is my cry out for prayer.
This year will no doubt bring about fear, insecurity, and difficulty as my team and I take the front line for the Kingdom. A dear friend and mentor of mine reminded me that the enemy will throw anything and everything at us to distract us from what the Lord has in store. I’m asking for grace in my vulnerability as well as so much prayer!
Much love from Chile,
Morgan
My apologize for the length, I got carried away. 🙂
