Two days ago, I sat in a cozy chair in one of our common rooms above the café. I closed my eyes, began to pray, and was taken back in time.
I was standing in the dance studio that I took lessons at during elementary school through high school. All of the girls waited in a line in the back of the room while our instructor called out placements for our annual recital. Every year, my heart raced at this moment: would I finally be chosen to dance in the front? Could I be the one who was worthy enough of taking center stage and captivate the audience with my performance?
This moment approached in numerous classes, every year. And each time, my heart broke. Each time, I was placed towards the back of the stage, and off to the side due to my short height. I was always in the highest level classes for my age group, but never quite good enough to be the shining star in our recitals. When I was more aware of what was going on in high school, there were moments when I had to choke back the tears as I was one of the last to receive my placement, in the back corner as usual. As I recalled these memories from my past, I was almost thrown off guard by them; it was so strange and random that I would be taken back to these moments. I didn’t realize the impact that they had on my heart over the years.
I never felt like I was quite good enough, graceful enough, talented enough… or beautiful enough, to be in the front. My parents even struggled to see me on stage during our year-end recitals, as I just became a part of the background. “Was that you in the 2nd row and to the right? I saw you the whole time! You were great!” “No… that wasn’t me… I was in the 4th row corner.” “Oh, well you all look so similar from that far away. I’m sorry sweetie.”
Without my conscious knowledge, this became an arrow that lodged itself deep in my heart. The arrow represented my self-worth. Whenever anyone would complement my dancing ability, I would laugh and dismiss it. When my boyfriend looks me in the eyes and tells me that I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, I can’t help myself from looking away because I don’t know how to believe him. When I read in Psalm 45 that “the King is enthralled with my beauty”, I don’t understand how it applies to me.
Having to dance in the back of the stage hasn’t been the only wound from my past that caused me to struggle with my identity as beloved, but it was a situation in my childhood and adolescence that it was definitely impacted by.
My vision shifted from the dance studio to the recital on stage, and I was dancing by myself. The bright lights shining on me hindered my view of the audience, but when I looked a little harder, I saw Him sitting there in the front row, in awe of my beauty. About two weeks ago, I felt the Lord ask me to worship him through dance. It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? He loves when I dance, and he wants me to start dancing again just for him.
Sometimes, our Father takes us to the deep, dark, painful memories from our past that lodged themselves as arrows in our hearts. These aren’t fun memories to visit, but the Lord promises to take hold of each arrow and rip it out together with us. As each arrow is removed, we are able to walk in freedom and understand not only our worth, but also his deep love for us.
I opened my eyes after experiencing this vision, and realized that I had tears streaming down my cheeks. Two of my teammates were watching me from the couch next to me, concerned that something awful had happened to me. I began to laugh as I told them about what I had just seen.
I hope that in the months to come, the Lord will continue to reveal these arrows to me so that I might live in a continually more intimate relationship with Him. Are there arrows lodged deep in your heart, painful memories from your past, that are hindering your understanding of your worth in the Father’s eyes? Take a moment and ask him what they are. Let’s rip each one out, one by one, to come to a place of freedom together.
The King is enthralled with our beauty.
