i've been thinking about this alot lately. growing.
there are so many times i want to appear as arrived. fully grown. that i've got it all together. i want to look nice and presentable not a care in the world. why yes, i did bake that apple pie, from scratch, while wearing a cocktail dress and heels. this facade generally doesn't last very long. it quickly unravels, ending up a heap on the floor. all the while, i'm left scrambling trying to cover myself.
this revealing. being revealed. its hard stuff. owning the places that i'm broken is even harder. sharing my scars, letting the cool air on them, isn't easy, it's terrifying actually. But it's also deeply healing. my story, as crazy and random and inconsequential as i think it is, really matters. my pain and my broken places matter. not only for me, but for those who I share my life with. my story points to a bigger Story. my hope points to a greater Hope. my pain points to some really awesome Redemption. my playing dress up only points to me.
"There is nothing small or inconsequential about our stories. There is in fact nothing bigger. And when we tell the truth about our lives-the broken parts, the secret parts, the beautiful parts-the Gospel comes to life, an actual story about redemption, instead of abstraction and theory and things you learn in sunday school"
most days it's not so clear where i'm at, or even where i'm headed. what it doesn't require - a whole lot of dressing up. it does require growing.
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