I write today with a broken heart. But it’s a good brokenness. The kind where God has to break something which seems whole in order to refashion it to be like Him.
I don’t know the way God works in your life, but in mine it’s all about seasons. For one season, he’ll give me extra joy, contentment, fullness, and grace. But soon, He leads me through times of sorrow, inadequacy, lack, and utter dependency. The ironic part about God’s seasons is that during most there is both harvest and pruning, sowing and reaping. While I’m experiencing the abundant fruit of the last season, He’s planting and pruning areas for the next.
So what season is this? It’s one of deep pruning. Within the last few months, I’ve experienced a lot of life. From the loss of my grandfather, leaving my job, going on a missions trip, moving to a new state, leaving my entire community of family and friends, and starting school, it seems that there have been transitions in every part of my life. I’ve spent a lot of time facing the truth of my own heart and dealing with the ugliness. During a time of abundance, it’s hard to see the weeds and the seeds that were choked out underneath the surface, but as my life has been stripped down, God has been revealing the barrenness.
So here’s my confession:
I’m a perfectionist. I’ve built my whole life and self-worth on performance, the things that I do well. The good part about this is that I love to grow. I love to be a part of always making things better than they are now. And because of this drive, I’ve experienced lots of “success” and really exciting accomplishments. Spiritually speaking, I most love the change and growth that comes from seeing a broken life made new. There’s nothing quite as exciting as healing from pain and depravity, seeing transformation to wholeness in a person’s life. Since I love this process, this is the most important goal that I’m driven to pursue: life change.
But here’s the problem. Building my life on accomplishment is a big house with a weak foundation. No matter how tall it gets, it’s always susceptible to crumbling down. Finding my value in what I do well keeps me from finding my value in Christ. I have a hard time accepting that I have intrinsic worth, regardless of my productivity, because I am created in the image of our most incredible God.
And here’s what it looks like in real life:
When I mess up, I’m devastated. Problems that I can’t fix depress me. I have a hard time accepting that which I have no control over. Mistakes are crushing, even when they’re slight. I have a tendency to take too much responsibility for things that aren’t mine to take, which undermines those around me. Because I’m not okay with my own weaknesses, this can cause me to have a hard time feeling compassion for other’s shortcomings. I start to think that the reason I can do things well is because of my own hard work, which leads me to put a heavy weight on those around me to work harder for what they want. But that doesn’t work. This only creates legalism, which may look good on the outside but is devastating to the heart.
So God’s been taking me through a hard process. He’s stripping away my confidence in the areas where I’ve found my identity. He’s reminding me that they’re gifts He gave me, but they’re not who I am. What if I couldn’t communicate well? What if I had really poor social skills? What if I was unable to work? Does this mean that I have no value? As St. Paul would say, “Absolutely not!”
I can just imagine Jesus standing with me in the middle of an incredible view of nature. As we would look around at the trees, birds, grass, hills, sun, flowers, clouds, and all else, he would point to them and tell me what God does to carefully provide for each one. Then he would look at me and say,
“Starla, all of these are important to me. After all, I created them, provide for them, and enjoy them! But even as much as I care for each, you’re set apart from the rest because I created you to be like me. You’re the only one that I view as a mirror to see my own reflection. So how much more valuable are you? And yet I require nothing from you. I only desire a relationship. I just want you.”
I’m having a hard time accepting that. I have a hard time with the fact that I would be just as valuable to God if I were in a hospital bed having no cognitive function as I am when a pastor or seminary student, working in a church and contributing as much as I can. The gifts He’s given me were meant to be a joy, not a burden. They’re an invitation rather than a requirement.
So what does all this mean? I don’t know yet. But what I’m hearing the most is God saying, “Just be.” I’m trying to let go of the pressure to create certain results, choosing instead to listen for God when He says, “I love you regardless.”