Looking for Love and Finding Family

YAY! It's Valentine's Day! Or as I used to call it, "Singles' Awareness Day (S.A.D.)"

Usually I celebrate today by going out and buying a big bottle (or 4) of my favorite soda (Vanilla Coca-Cola), finding some movie, preferably sans romance, and despising almost all the couples who dared enter my sight.

  
[And counting down the days until my birthday (5 more days!).]

As wonderful and productive as that sounds, I think I need to find a new way to celebrate the day dedicated to love. Sadly, as I have no girlfriend, likely never will, I am rather limited in finding ways to celebrate.

Lately I read an article by Eve Tushnet, called "Coming Out Christian," where I found this funny little reminder: "In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus promises that those who lose their homes or families for His sake will receive new homes and families, 'a hundred times more now.'" She goes on to talk about how people like me have been able to find other families among friends. I, as a recent graduate, couldn't help but think of my own "new family." My family made of friends.

After all, love isn't just about romance. Love can be found anywhere from anyone. It can be from a "special someone," a sibling, or a dear friend. So why should Valentine's Day be limited to just celebrating romantic love? Why can we not celebrate all loves?

I have never found my "twoo wuv," but I have found people who love me as friends, who became my "other family" while I was 1,000 miles and two timezones away from my home. And I want to celebrate them today.

Pictured to the left is my "big brother" with his wife. Ironically enough, I don't even remember meeting him the first time! It was within the first 48 hours of being dropped off at college and I was essentially stoned. No drugs, yet I have extreme few memories of "Welcome Weekend."  He's told me that we met at the "Hoedown" that happens every year for the matriculating freshman class. But you'd have to ask him. He says I looked shell-shocked and I'll be the first to say I was at the time.

It was the second time I met him that I remember, mostly because I knew that I should know his name, but I didn't, and decided to ask him what it was again. And from such auspicious beginnings, I found someone I'd always wanted: a big brother. This guy is so much like me, it's scary. Except he's married (EXTREMELY happily so), much wiser, and older than me. He has been a mentor, a brother, and a true friend. And I even served as a groomsman at his wedding!

Me and my First Friend drinking Wodfamchocsods.

And there's my crazy "first friend," as I call him, who invited me to share his wonderful and loving family, and who was the first guy to welcome me during a campus visit to Taylor. I don't think he knew what he was getting into by offering me friendship. Then again, I didn't know what it was like to have a friend. Thankfully, he's been willing to help me learn. Not that I've made it easy on him. No, sir! But he's given me plenty of grief over the years too. Usually in the form of deadpan sarcasm masquerading as complete sobriety and seriousness.

But I know that I wouldn't be the man I am today with his and my big brother's support. They were first people I "came out" to. They helped me through the struggles and the tears, and celebrated all the joys and victories.

Then there's my first "other family," the first group of people to accept me as their own. This group of crazy cats who came together because of our love of a kids' radio program: Adventures in Odyssey.

Here's a picture of what we called "The Adventures In Odyssey Club," the people who comprised my first real friends. We went to Colorado for a Spring Berak Trip, raised money making Wodfamchocsods (A.K.A. World-Famous Chocolate Sodas), brought Katie Leigh, a famous voice actress to Taylor, and got into all sorts of crazy shenanigans. (Word to the wise: don't poke, jab, tickle, or otherwise maliciously touch a guy who wrestled in high school. Brawling tends to ensue and you will lose.)

And I cannot forget this guy, usually known as "The Beard!" This picture doesn't even begin to do his facial hair justice. But, it does accurately describe our friendship.

But, while he does enjoy finding creative ways to kill me, like a bazooka to the face, the Jawa Jihad, and the Oxford Book of DEATH (!), among other things, he is a stalwart, steady friend. His support helped me come out of my shell, gave me shelter during more than one college break where I got kicked off campus (along with everyone else, mind you!), and invited me to share in his world, an honor I know I didn't deserve. But, friendship and love isn't about deserving, now is it?

Finally, there's my special girl friend (notice the crucial space there, all you romantic types!). She and I visited the same campus the same day. Both of us had no clue what we were doing or what was going on. And I'm certain that we'd both readily admit that we were scared out of our minds that day. Because of that, we formed a special bond. We've been friends ever since that crazy day and supported each other. And, because we hang out so much, we got teased and asked if we were dating. (Oh, the mischief we got into!) Our friendship is unique. As, really all my true friendships are. We have been each other's confidante, ally, editor (because we're both writers), and support. And I can't express how glad I am to have her in my life.

These pictures and descriptions don't begin to describe the family I found. There's The Beard's Left Hand Man, who befriended me of his own free will, along with all of The Beard's so-called "Minions." And who hounded me much of J-Term, a refreshing change. Usually, I'm the hound, so having someone daily prod me into spending time with him was one of the coolest things I've experienced. It was nice to be wanted.

There's all the fun, mildly weird people in my major who accepted me and talk with me on a regular basis. There's my sisters in Christ who pray for me and support me whenever I'm in need. And (I can't forget) there's the brothers I found living on a near-fraternity which used to scare my introverted self beyond all reason. (Love The Brotherhood!)

Family doesn't have to be related through genetics. All it takes is the willingness to love another person. To invite them into your life and be willing to remain a part of theirs as long as you can. Family is made in love.

No, there is no romantic heartthrob in my life at the moment. But I can still celebrate a holiday dedicated to love. I can celebrate my family.

Freedom

Let Freedom Ring. No Taxation Without Representation. These and more were the rallying cries of our nation almost 250 years ago. Today, Independence Day, marks the beginning of the American fight to overcome British tyranny. Before then, William Wallace, known from the movie Braveheart as the Scottish man who lived and died to make his people free, is known to have fought long and hard for freedom.

Fitting, then, that today I come to write and celebrate my own freedom, though mine is freedom of a different kind. Yes, I am likely going to preach and become personal. So those who enjoyed the breather I gave last week will now have to deal with my return to the satus quo. Oh well.

Today, while reflecting on Independence Day and all it entails, I realized that I have found a new freedom, one I have desired for a long, long time. And let me tell you, freedom, once found and realized by one who was once a slave, is delicious.

No, I am not talking about Freedom In Christ and the general stuff that goes with it that pastors preach about all the time. I am talking about genuine, honest-to-goodness, freedom from my own form of slavery.

I have been a slve to anger. Anger and hatred. And though you may notice that I rail against them and speak so often about not giving in to them, it's because I know what it's like to be a slave to them. Rather like the Talking Horse Bree from The Horse and His Boy (Chronicles of Narnia),I know what those masters are like, and I want to be free of them. Well, today I found out undeniably that in one area of my life Sinful Anger and Hatred have lost their grip on me. (There is such a thing as Righteous Anger, but one is never a slave to that.)

A long time ago, a person very close to me hurt me in ways that are extremely hard to describe. I felt betrayed and anger grew in my like a flame over the years, consuming me. it demanded so much of me. I felt drained, alone, and, at times, helpless against it. Over the last year, I have sought help to deal with my anger. Oh, how my friends helped me. I think sometimes that I would npt still be here if it hadn't been for the wonderful people God put in my life. With their help, I found freedom. I forgave the person for their wrongs against me.

But it still hurt to think about them for a long time. Again, friends became extremely important to me. I cannot stress how important good friendships are. Even if you can find only one good friend, someone you can trust implicitly, you have an invaluable resource, something important that must be guarded and cherished.

Sorry, went off on a tangent. Anyway. Recently I met that person again. And now I realize that absolutely no hatred or anger remains. I am finally free!

I feel like dancing and hollering. Maybe Gollum had the right idea after the second personality left in The Two Towers: "Free! Free! Smeagol is free!" he shouted, dancing around the modest camp the Hobbits had set up.

Now, am I totally free? No, unfortunately not. I know myself and I know that Anger has more strongholds in my life. And I have actually wept at times because I feel trapped. But today, there is hope. I can find freedom. I already have, even.

And none of this would be possible without Christ. I know I call it a Christian Blog, but that's because Jesus is a huge part of my life. And I know He wants to be an even bigger part of it. Without Him, I would never have known the healing I know today. Without Him, I would have no true friends to call my own. Without Him, I would still be hopeless. A wandering idiot still searching for meaning.

As the song goes, "It's all because of Jesus I'm alive,"... in more ways than one.

Holy is He and worthy of praise.

Leaving

Well, it's official. I have finished my first year at Taylor University. I am now a sophomore. Now, admittedly, I should be rejoicing, but I'm not. In some ways, I am happy. I finished one year of college. That in itself is an achievement. But there's something else that overwhelms the miniscule feeling if victory. It is the feeling of loss.

This year, I made quite a few friends. Some of them were freshmen. Some were graduating seniors. All of them I will miss. Especially those graduating. While I have some assurances that I might see some of them again, it still feels like in some way, I'm losing my friends, like I'm losing a piece of myself.

It hurts. I see my friends go, most of them still living in the Midwest, while I have to pack up and return to Colorado. I feel the separation ache. The pain is too mellow, too slightly expected to cut or stab. It throbs instead.

Facing this pain, which is all too familiar I must confess, I find myself asking, does saying goodbye ever get to the point where it doesn't hurt, at least as a college student?


Does it ever get any easier?

I wanted to go and ask a professor or one of the seniors this question, but I never did. I never asked while I had them here to tell me. However, after slightly stewing on this question for a few hours, I discovered the best person to ask this question would be myself.

Now before you think I'm getting pompous or arrogant, let me tell you why I think that.

I'm a military brat, and I have never lived in any one place longer than 4 years. You say goodbye often that way. For the four years I went to high school, I lived at a summer camp. Every single I would say goodbye at least twice. Once to the first month's summer volunteers, next to the second month's volunteers and the paid staff.

I also graduated High School a year ago, almost to the day. I had many goodbyes to say then. I had to say goodbye to my parents when they dropped me off at college.

Suffice to say, I've had to say a lot of goodbyes in my life.So, if you all are still interested in my answer, here it is.

It never gets easier to say goodbye. In fact, the more you invest yourself in your friends and the deeper the bonds you make, the harder it gets to say goodbye.

I say this from personal experience. I missed my friends from camp a little, But as I look forward to the summer, the more I wish I had my friends with me physically. The more I long to have my close friends near.

So this summer might be hard. I have to go back to good friends, but I'm leaving some of the best friends I've ever had.

However, before my heart begins to despair, and thus make me begin my summer the crappiest way I could, I need to remember something,

Now, forgive me for sounding cheesy, but the truth is the truth, Jesus is the friend who will never leave me. Never. I can't move away from Him. He won't graduate and be forced to move on past college and thus past me. He will never be living anywhere I'm not.

He is always with me. I tend to forget that so easily, possibly because I have this nasty tendency to rely on myself.

But there is nowhere I can go to escape His love. While all my other friends must move on and we must spend our summers apart, I will remember that God is still with me. That Jesus is right beside me, being everything and more that my friends can't be.

Holy is He and Worthy of praise.

Adopted

You ever wonder what it's like to be adopted into a family? It's a very strange feeling. Especially when you already have one family and find yourself invited--make that adopted--into another one.

It's a completely different experience. At least for me. I'm used to feeling love from my own personal family, the one with whom I share blood. But being invited to share in the love of another family? I have never felt that before. Not until this year.

Now, I'll be the first one to tell you, my family is extremely loving. We love everyone we can and invite others to be part of our family. My mom has many "adopted" children and loves them all. But I have always been one of the natural children, not the adopted one. I never expected anyone else to adopt me. Never.

Then came college. I moved to Indiana, 20 hours by car and two time zones away from my family. It got a little lonely at times. My parents have very little money, so it's not like they can really come out very often. They usually save their money just to fly me home.

Maybe I shouldn't say a little lonely. Special events like Parents Weekend were torturous for me because I was one of the few students who couldn't have family come. Small breaks when my close friends would run home and spend time with their families left me longing for home and my family.

Loneliness hurts. It digs into your soul and makes a nest in the center, feeding you lies of how unloved you are. It even feeds me lies of how unworthy of love I am. Unfortunately, after a little while, the lies start becoming the truth.


But I was given a priceless gift recently. I was adopted by my best friend's family. Not in the court-order-slash-certificate way, but in the we-love-you-enough-to-make-you-part-of-the-family way.

I had no idea how to react to that. It was humbling to feel so utterly and completely loved, though I hadn't done anything to deserve it. It was a gift.It was given totally and completely unselfishly. I mean, when you're invited to come celebrate with your best friend's family on your best friend's birthday, even though he hadn't seen his family very much, you know you're loved.

For me, it's very strange. I have always been on the giving end when it comes to loving my friends, but receiving love and being adopted into a family is something totally different than giving. I was rendered speechless. I still am speechless in trying to express my gratitude and awe.

Now that I think about it, it's a lot like the way Christ treats us. We don't deserve love in any way, but He still loves us enough to adopt us into His family. We are loved by God, not just earthly mortals. I am loved by God. That's something that amazes me even further when I compare it to the love I already feel.

God's love is so astounding. So is my friend's. Maybe one day I can hope to in someway repay my friend for the love he has given me. I know I can never do that for Jesus.

Holy is the Lord and He is most worthy of praise.

Invisible

I am invisible. Or at least I can be at will. I know how to hide from the world even to the point that my friends cannot find me if I do not want them to.

No, this is not a superpower. Much closer to espionage. It's a talent I have to be able to blend in and hide. Honestly, I wish I had never learned it. But I did. So now, I can avoid people and remain unnoticed for vast lengths of time.

I know, everyone dreams they could become invisible like this, to be able to completely disappear in a crowd. But they don't know something I do.

It's depressing to unnoticeable. Just once I would like to be seen while I'm "invisible." Just once.

Well, I take that back. What I really want is to be seen, maybe by only one person, time and time again when I think I'm invisible. I want someone to come up and say that they see me and value me.

Every time I go into "invisible mode," it's mostly because I don't want to talk to people, to make nice while I feel like I'm in pain. But I still want someone to see me and come over and talk to me. I know this seems contradictory, but it's true. Maybe a different image might explain better.

I don't want to put on a mask and pretend that everything is okay when I feel like crap. So, I hide from people. I become invisible so that I don't have to pretend.

But every time I become invisible and I remain unseen, I feel less and less valued. I feel more like I don't matter to anyone around me.

That's why I want someone to see me, no matter what I do to become invisible. I want to have someone who values me enough to see through to me.

And I know that there is one Person who always sees me. But I have never felt God put His hand on my shoulder when I'm eating alone during lunch and whisper "I see you."

So the impact of knowing God sees me all the time is slightly lessened. Plus, I've always known God sees me. I grew up in a Christian home, so God's quality of Omnipresence is something I can't forget.

I want someone physical to see me. I want to feel valued.

Steven James, a man I hope I could call a friend (maybe someday) once asked a very profound question: What do we really want? Do we want to love and be loved in return, or do we want to feel love?

Well, I think we, or at least I want to feel loved. I want to feel valued. I know that I am, but knowing something in your brain is much different that knowing it in your heart.

I imagine I've rattled on enough about this now. But this truth I will still proclaim, even though I feel like crap tonight:

Holy is the Lord and most worthy of praise.

Hide and Seek

I used to love playing Hide and seek as a kid. I still love playing it. I sometimes even play "grown up" versions, like Sardines and Assassins. But there's other versions I play that I wish I didn't.

The version I'm best at is the truly "grown up" version of Hide and Seek. It doesn't have a name, just an action or motion: invisibility. There are times when I allow myself, sometimes even force myself to become invisible. Not literally, of course. Sorry to disappoint, but I don't have any super powers. But I let myself disappear. I fade into the background.  I retreat into my shell and hope no one notices me.

How does this work non-metaphorically? I withdraw from people, I tell them I'm fine when I don't feel that way and attempt to be alone. This only heightens my sense of isolation and loneliness, but I still do it. But every once in a while, something happens to break me out of the shell I build during my invisibility. Usually, it involves someone doing something unexpected for me. And I mean really unexpected.

In fact, most of the time, it takes someone noticing me in my invisibility. When someone sees through to me, notices me, takes the time to let me know I matter, then I begin to break out of the shell again.

I know this doesn't seem all that powerful, but trust me, being seen when you think you're invisible, when you're longing to be seen though you make no effort to stand out, that changes people. It affects them on so many levels. It affects me on those levels. I'll admit, when i become invisible, there is a part of me that is longing to be seen, pleading for someone to see me and take notice. Someone who will actually take the time to let me know that I'm loved, that I'm worthwhile. That I am worth it. And this has to be face to face or very personal. A comment on a Facebook status won't do it. it has to be something where the other person takes time to seek me out.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that God does this too. He sees me even when I try to hide and avoid Him. When I retreat into myself, He's there asking me to come back out and be with Him. He loves me enough that He cares when I try to hide from everyone around.

He seeks me. I matter to Him. He loves me. I know I've talked about how much He loves me a lot on this blog, but it feels as though I keep learning a new aspect about how He cares about me, how He wants me.
How He loves me, so fully and completely.

I feel like He is almost constantly reminding me of this. Or coming at it from a new angle, so that I might finally get it. Hopefully, one day I will understand. For now though, He is still teaching me about Himself and boggling my mind.

Holy is He who sees me and loves me and he alone is worthy of my praise.

Lights

Is there anyone that fails?
Is there anyone that falls?
Am I the only one in church today feelin' so small?

Cause when I take a look around
Everybody seems so strong
I know they'll soon discover
That I don't belong

So I tuck it all away, like everything's okay
If I make them all believe it, maybe I'll believe it too
So with a painted grin, I play the part again
So everyone will see me the way that I see them
  
Is there anyone who's been there?
Are there any hands to raise?
Am I the only one who's traded
In the altar for a stage?

The performance is convincing
And we know every line by heart
Only when no one is watching
Can we really fall apart

But would it set me free
If I dared to let you see
The truth behind the person
That you imagine me to be?

Would your arms be open
Or would you walk away?
Would the love of Jesus
Be enough to make you stay?

Are we happy plastic people
Under shiny plastic steeples
With walls around our weakness
And smiles to hide our pain?
But if the invitation's open
To every heart that has been broken
Maybe then we close the curtain
On our stained glass masquerade

These are the verses and chorus of the song Stained Glass Masquerade, by Casting Crowns. These words express how I feel so often around everyone I know. I wonder, "what if you knew the real me?" Would you still want to know me? Or would you walk away and reject me, wishing that I had never existed in your life?

I struggle with this so much. I try to pretend that everything is all right and that I don't have struggles. Of course, if you've been reading this blog, I imagine you know otherwise. But it's a façade I still maintain, nevertheless. Often I wish I didn't know how to act like this, but it's something I do very well.


Let me show you a picture of what it feels like sometimes. A few weeks ago, a preacher talked about character, and he described it as what someone would see if they were able to open us up and see into our inmost being. I, being the weird, imaginative person that I am, imagined taking a knife and cutting through the skin and all the layers to see the inmost man of the preacher. There I "saw" a vivid light coming from him, and thought his character is likely very strong. Then I turned the knife on myself, and cut through to see my own light. What I saw was a small, writhing ray of light, spinning and curling inward upon itself, rather like what a worm does after you dig out of the ground.


This brutal visual representation of my brokenness saddened me, but I hid it. Instead of letting people see this puny, pathetic, pitiful light, I put a distorted mirror around it, trying to make it seem like a raging torch instead of a flickering candle. I kept myself separated from everyone and continued to watch my light spin and curl, even though it cried out for help. I hurt to see myself in such a way. The last straw was when when I found myself slipping into old habits and lying to my best friends when they asked me how I was doing. Afterward I was so despondent and sad that I had returned to my Old Self that I went back and told them the truth.


Then a funny thing happened. I found the mirror I put up for my light distorted the others' lights as well. I discovered that the bright fires I thought surrounded me were only candles. They were as small as I was and needed truth just as much as I did.


I thought that I was the small weak one among my friends only to find out that when I revealed myself fully, they felt the same way about themselves. We were the same. We all needed and wanted to be open and seen for who we really are. We found unity in our brokenness, our weakness. And then something amazing happened. Our light grew.


If you put the flames of two candles together, in real life, you find that the flame rises and grows stronger. Well, when we released ourselves and saw each other truthfully, in some way our candles, our lights grew. They became stronger and our deep friendship became a little deeper, I think.


If we hadn't been open, if I hadn't been open, none of this would have happened. I would still be believing this age old lie that I'm the only one who struggles to be real to be worthy of acceptance. But it's not true. As someone once said, "We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same." 


I only hope I remember this in the years to come when I am tempted to keep my light to myself and refuse others access to it. May God continually remind me how much He has blessed me and how much He loves me. It is only because of Him that I have these friends and this freedom.


Holy is He and worthy of praise.

The Battle

The sky above bleeds crimson. The field is dark, and the Enemy is coming. Even now, I can see their eyes before me, hungry for flesh. No, I do not battle humans. I battle the worst monsters conceivable. I battle my own demons.

My compatriots are gone, as often happens in war, battling their own demons. Friends become separated while battling enemy hordes intent on their demise.  In my scabbard around my waist lies my sword, and a battle horn hangs by my side.

Three demons encircle me. We are old enemies, and well acquainted with each other. Lust fights independently, while Loneliness and Depression pair up on their opponents, providing a two-pronged attack. I note their weapons. Loneliness's claws are tipped with diamonds, so that they can cut through metal into a man and wound him. Depression carries a weighted net, designed to incapacitate his enemies. Lust holds a whip to entangle, trip, and drive his victims where he wants. But these are not their deadliest weapons. Each of their mouths spits poison and acid which eats away at armor and soul.

I cower behind my shield and cry out to God to come defend me. I know I cannot defeat these enemies on my own. But God whispers to me, "Remember."

"Remember what?" I scream, as blows from the demons hammer me.

"Remember the gifts I gave you. Look around and see. Remember."

My eyes dart to my waist and I see my Sword, still in its scabbard. Above it is my unused horn. I push against the current demon scratching at my shield trying to reach me, and pull out my sword, I swipe at the nearest enemy and cause them all to back away, wary of my blade.

I use my shield hand to grab my horn to summon my friends with three quick notes. Loneliness tries to take advantage of my momentary distraction and spits thick, caustic saliva at my chest. I raise my shield, and thrust the horn to my lips, calling for aid.

Within seconds, two battle brothers who were waiting for my call charge towards my foes and enter the fray. Together, we soundly defeat them and they retreat, running for their very lives. However, In unison, they yell at me, "We'll be back for you. Just wait." The battle is over for now, and we have emerged victorious. The war however, shall continue. And we will face it together, serving God.

*                                       *                                        *

I'll be the first to admit it: I like to shoot myself in the foot whenever I struggle spiritually. I forget all the things God has taught me. Instead of trying to use the weapons He's given me, I cower behind a shield and squeak, "Somebody help me!"

After all, God has told me Truth so many times. He has blessed me with wonderful, deep, meaningful friendships and people whom I can count on. But do I utilize these things when trouble comes? NO!

Times of trouble tend to show me to be an idiot. I easily forget so much! And worse, I let Pride influence me, thinking that I should be able to handle these enemies on my own. And then (you guessed it!) I fail miserably, and end up retreating before the onslaught. Why can I not remember the truth? But as Pilate once asked, What is Truth? Or for me, what is the truth I should remember?

First, God loves me and cares for me so much that it boggles my mind even to think about it. He does not leave me to struggle defenselessly. He gives me weapons to defeat my enemies and tells me who I truly am: I am His. In Him lies my identity, and in Him only. This is the Truth that empowers my Sword. And that's not all.

I have friends. I have people who will come and lift me up in prayer if I ask them. I have men who will come alongside me and help me carry my burdens. I have "battle brothers" who will come to my aid if I let them know of my troubles. All I have to do is send out the call and tell them I'm in trouble.

Remember the goodness of God and utilize the weapons He gives me; that is how to win spiritual battles. Not by my own pitiful strength, but by His grace. God, help me never to forget that.

You are Holy and most worthy of Praise.

Alone?

Angry. Secretive. High walls built up and lined with barbed wire and broken glass.  Time spent more on my computer and no time spent that I didn't have to with my friends at school. I kept rage and hatred bottled up inside and refused to show anyone the truth in my heart. I was alone and pretended to be satisfied. I was lonely.

This is who I was less than a year ago.

Wrathful. Angry. Manipulative. Sensuous. Cut apart from God. Using people only for what I could get from them and then tossing them away like rags. Evil. Alone. Lonely

This is who I could be.

I know these things. I have spent time (maybe too much) searching the depths of my heart, exploring the dark parts of my soul, and remembering the boy I used to be.

Last Saturday was my birthday. I thought about my life and who I could become, and I was scared. I knew these things like I know the lines in the palm of my hand. I knew that only one step, one decision, one false move could take me to one of those two places, those two people I could be. At least, that's how it felt.


I felt alone and unloved, despite all the well-wishes of my friends who tried to show me they cared. I struggled under the oppressive weight of this knowledge. Finally a good friend came and told me some things I needed to hear.

Who I was and who I could be are not that important. God knows both of them even better than I do. He is not surprised by anything I do. He loves me anyway.

Who I was and who I could be are not who I am.

Beloved. Planned for. Redeemed. Adopted. Forgiven. Sacrificed for. Inseparable from God. Protected.

Never alone.

This is who I am.

I don't have to be alone! I don't have to believe the lie that I am unloved and am a few steps from falling away from God. It's not true!

So I don't have to be afraid anymore. I don't have to kill myself over who I could be or who I was. Instead I need to focus on who I am, on being God's child. That will be my focus for the days to come. For the new year that God has blessed me with. And maybe, in some small way, for the rest of my life.

Holy Is God and He is most worthy of praise.