breaking chains

Guess what? I have trust issues. I’m just gonna leave that right there for a minute.

One of the things I’ve realized over the past couple of years is that the more I become vulnerable to and transparent with you (singular or plural … who even knows anymore), the more I find freedom. There is a beautiful Casting Crowns song that describes how a marriage goes through its courses and ultimately, a couple has to struggle to fight to stay together because it’s freaking hard and not like the love story movie montage they might have planned for. But, just like the song describes, when we stop and just love each other for the broken messes we are, we get to see a little glimpse of what unconditional love looks like. What Love is. Who Jesus is. And who doesn’t want to see Him? Or, more so, to be like Him?

So, here I am sharing some hard stuff. Because I always have that little feeling of a shoulder tap that I wouldn’t be surprised that many of you feel as well … to just get it out. And to be done with it. And maybe, just maybe, to move forward with the healing that’s going to hurt (likely both emotionally and sometimes even physically) at first, but then what could lead to the very place that He so desires us to find.

JV (my pastor. #props) delivered a message this past Sunday as part of a series entitled ‘Leaving Egypt’. The gist (in my limited realm of understanding) is that so often we get caught in our ‘Egypts’ because we’re simply afraid to leave; afraid of what the unknown looks like. Because in as much as we don’t want to be subjected to the reality of or fall prey yet again to our struggles or addictions or broken relationships, we at least know what they feel like and that’s maybe easier than stepping out in faith into the promise of freedom. That sounds a bit insane. No?

And literally, just before JV wrapped up, I leaned over to my man friend and said ‘it’s a trust issue.’ And then JV said, ‘the problem is trust.’ We can find it difficult to trust God. Again, it feels insane to even consider that, but it’s legit. I was asked recently to describe what God ‘looks like’ to me. At first I was taken aback by the request. I mean, I don’t picture God. But when I stopped to think about it, it was actually quite beautiful except for when I got to the part where I explained the wall that I feel like I can’t get through; that He’s reaching out to me and I’m met with this invisible force that won’t let me get closer … to just jump into His lap like the child He wants me to be.

But it’s me. That wall is what I’ve put in between us is because of my inability to believe He actually has me. It’s that fear and the chains that enslave me. It’s my attempt to think I’m more equipped to deal with the ‘world’ than He is. #admissionisthefirststep

I want to leave Egypt. I’m OVER Egypt. But I also recognize that, for me, this won’t be immediate. And as much as I’d like to cold turkey race off into the sunset for the promised land, I know that I’m likely going to have to take some shorter strides. Lord knows I’m not a runner anyhow.

So I started by (and this might sound entirely silly to folks without an addiction, but I still love ya anyway) taking off my Fitbit a week ago. It became a literal handcuff and as soon as it was removed, I felt a burden of meeting a daily requirement just melt away. And I haven’t weighed myself in the same timeframe. That’s been a super tough habit to break after years and years of stepping on a scale every.single.day. just to torment myself if the number didn’t reflect what I wanted it to. I have good news to report seven days in … I’m still alive! And I haven’t gained forty pounds. Well, I wouldn’t know if I did because I don’t know what the scale says. #boom

I’m making light of a very difficult admission because 1) that’s what I do and 2) it’s kinda stupid that I’ve allowed myself to believe the lies that what either of those chains reported prove my worth.

These two small changes are the beginnings of my exit strategy (oh wait, are exit strategies supposed to be a secret?! shoot). I’m working on that trust thing; pushing myself into believing that God says about me is true … I am fearfully and wonderfully made; I am His beloved; that I am a conqueror; that nothing in all of creation (this silly world) can separate me from His love.

And it’s enough for now. For always. He is more than enough. And so am I.

And because we’re in this together, I want you to know that you are more than enough, too.

 

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