I know I am in community when I can pour out from the depths of my soul and bleed and these beautiful, grace-filled readers leave the words for me found in the comments below, and also send through private messages. There is healing and strength and grace and acceptance and love and God in community.
My mama tagged me in a picture on Facebook. She thought I’d appreciate it. It contained a quote.
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at the typewriter and bleed.” –Ernest Hemingway
Yes, I get this. When I write here, I lay my soul bare. I dig deep, touch tender places, and find the truest part of me, and I set myself up to be rejected. Rejection doesn’t feel good no matter what form it comes.
I’ve had more readers unsubscribe the last month, than all the 11 months I’ve been blogging. It feels like I’ve been punched in the gut.
God is leading me into new places. He is doing a deep work in me. My heart is changing. My voice is changing, and I want to let it pour free.
And I am supposed to have faith like a child, and I have fear like a child. Like the child who is being urged to go forward by their daddy and is clinging to his leg, burying in deep their face.
I’m holding tightly, and the Father is still gently urging me on.
I’m wandering into new territory — except I’m not wandering lost. I’m being led. I’m scared. I don’t know how else to say it, and not make it sound weak.
He’s already spoken it, “Do not be afraid, I go before you.”
God help my unbelief.
God warned me that this would happen. He said it will get harder. It came with a promise. I shared it with you as a status on my Facebook page.
“God does not set us up to fail. When He calls & we answer “YES”, our success is as sure as our obedience to Him.” <— I’ll tweet that.
To the Israelites, God promised victory in the battle, but still, they had to go to go forward to battle.
I take forward steps. I pour out my heart and my soul into this blog. I want to write from my heart and bring my truest offering. I labor, and I bleed.
And they unsubscribe. Or unlike. Or unfollow.
And it’s not those who have chosen to no longer read my blog that have been weighing heavy. It’s the way this little bit of rejection amplifies the resounding lies still on replay in my mind from those in the past. The ones I could never be good enough for. The ones that I tried to please, and never could.
It’s those other negative voices I hear saying, “Do you really think you are doing anything important? Anything worthwhile?” And feeling as though I am a mockery to them.
How is it possible I am still struggling with this?
But Abba Father says, “Keep going on.”
Even though I told husband, I’d like to quit. Maybe I can find a hole to hide in.
In the same breath of these moments, I read the words that have come in due season with the pages of the book between my fingers. This is grace. Everything releases in October, and I hold a copy now, and read these words.
You have the chance right now to be yourself. To love or work or perform or dance or sing or be uniquely you. Here’s a warning. Some people won’t like it. Some will send you letters about your errant ways. Some might ridicule you. Don’t let that criticism shake you or make you shrink form being yourself. Be all you. Next time you’re criticized, try to shake hands with it, not as a statement of your worth, but as a way to grow your faith — a way to stand against worry. And then boldly dance your steps. — Mary DeMuth, Everything
I bet Mary’s soul bled. I can tell as I read her words on these pages.
As we are driving home from church, and I’m reading by the light of the visor mirror, and bleeding my struggles out to Husband, I turn the page. The next chapter title reads, “Practice Resilience.”
I show Husband. “I guess God is trying to tell you something. Stay focused, Michele,” Husband in agreement with God echos on.
Because the journey through those places we learn resilience. And that resilience brings the ability to joyfully life in the moment despite our circumstances — a holy paradox…We may live ordinary lives, but we are indwelt by an extraordinary God who can bring light form darkness, joy from despair. He desires that we develop resilience, such a simple, yet powerful trait as we pursue an Everything life. — Mary DeMuth, Everything
Mary ends the chapter with this line, “Because He is my everything.”
Yes, He is mine, too.
So, I will keep going forward — listening for His Voice.
It silences all the others.
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