I have always had a problem with fear. Real, gripping, palm-sweating fear. As a child I would literally cry HYSTERICALLY (oh my word, I don’t know how my parents put up with this) every single time a thunderstorm swept through our neighborhood. I should have been old enough to understand that not every thunderstorm would end up in a home-consuming flood, but the news clips were enough to convince me that every thunderstorm was BAD news.
I used to be afraid of being hurt, physically hurt by a stranger. Or being kidnapped. Again, thank you channels 2, 11 and 13 for filling my nine year old self with fears I had no business entertaining.
I carried this pattern (just now realizing it was a pattern) through middle school and high school. In middle school I could have auditioned for Ugly Betty (minus the glasses) and probably got the role. I was an oddball, a total cast out with unmanageable, frizzy, curly hair (that I prayed almost everyday would magically turn straight overnight) and braces. Desperately wanting to fit in. I came from a homeschool background and was completely out of touch with kids my own age, and how to communicate. I should add that I look back NOW and I’m actually thankful for this. My mom did an outstanding job homeschooling me and my brother. Her sacrifice kept me from some harmful things and people for a while.
I was constantly afraid of humiliation – over my frizzy, brown hair or my clearly out of date wardrobe. I remember being that awkward preteen and I wish I could visit her and slap her a bit. Tell her that the opinions of her peers wouldn’t be worth 2 cents in 10 years. And that their opinions of her would never complete her.
Their approval of me/ my hair/ my clothes/ my cool factor would never fill me the way I thought it could.
Today something happened and I was so so angry at myself. Once again I laid my self-worth, the measure of who I was in someone else’s hands – without even REALIZING it. Can I tell you it didn’t take long for me to be completely let down? Another person can hardly bear that responsibility – at the end of the day we are still human.
I was angry at myself for falling apart so easily, and not feeling complete regardless of what the world thought about me. It is Christ that makes me who I am. Nothing else, no one else.
When that really sinks in – deep into my heart – a strength begins to build up because there is no wavering with Christ. He is the same today, yesterday and always.