I've always admired people whose writing is raw and honest. It has a freshness and grace that polished words just can't carry. But truth be known, the numerous unfinished blog posts stored away on my computer are proof that I am naturally inclined to polish my posts for so long that they become outdated. The likelihood of any of them every reaching my idea of eloquence is rather slim, thus the long silences on this blog.
Perhaps though, to be genuine is more beautiful than to be polished. Maybe the whole philosophy behind my hesitance to blog is actually an issue that runs much deeper in us than we like to think.
It seems to me that society has painted an image of what we are supposed to be, and we feel that to be anything less proves us to be inferior. We feel like we have to have it all together to be valuable.
Truth is, we don't have it all together. None of us do. We are all broken and messed up.
But somehow, we feel pressured by society, and because of that, we fight to look like we are fine. We think that if people know what we are really like, we will loose our value. So we answer the questions of "how are you?" with a typical "I'm great!" and carry on our way with a smile on our face, while we fall apart inside.
And while having such a mentality messes with our human relationships, it really distorts the beauty and intimacy we were made to have with our Jesus.
When we feel like we have to come to Him in our church clothes, with smiles on our faces, and our problems safely hidden inside, we totally miss the reason for coming. What is the point of bandaging ourselves up and then coming to the Healer? How can we even get close to Him when we have a mask in the way?
Real intimacy is always preceded by real honesty.
We don't come to Jesus polished and perfect. We come broken, bruised, and messed up. We don't come to tell Him how good we are. We come because we are angry, confused, discouraged, and afraid.
I come because I have tasted a love "that makes me more that what I was, and sees beyond what I am." I come because I know I am broken. I know I am selfish. I know that I am a mess. And I want to remove the mask and let Him see me just as I am. I want to tell Him every last little thing. I want Him to know. I want to open my heart up to Him completely and let Him into the deepest and darkest corners. I want His love to melt my hard heart. I want it to break down every barrier. I want it to transform me completely.
His heart desperately longs for us to know that there need be no masks with Him... in fact, our masks actually limit Him. How can we expect Love to do a deep work in our hearts when we are unwilling to give Him access to our deep places?
Our hearts can only be healed when they have first been opened. And while we are in no way to boast of our failings, we can only be healed from them when we are willing to admit them.
David is a beautiful example of how raw honesty binds our heart to the heart of God. He was a broken man. He had made mistakes that some of us would never dream of. He had been through exceedingly painful circumstances. But he didn't try to hide his brokenness from his God. Instead, he opened up his heart and laid every ounce of if before the eyes of his Jesus.
He wasn't afraid to come to God and admit that he was so heartbroken he forgot to eat, and that his bed swam with tears. He didn't try to gloss over his pain. He wasn't afraid to admit to God when he was angry with his enemies. And when he had fallen, he openly acknowledged that he was a great sinner and that he needed to be cleansed. He didn't try to be polished before coming into God's presence. He was perfectly frank about what was going on in his heart. That honesty gave him a level of intimacy with God that few people taste. Because of such, he was called a man after God's own heart.
I want that. To be called a girl after His heart. To be as close to Him as is humanly possible. To give Him complete access to the deepest things in my heart. To be totally honest with God.
To stop thinking that my value is in having it all together and realize that the most valuable thing I can do is throw open the windows of my heart to my Jesus and admit that I am broken...
...and find my value in being fully known and yet fully loved by my Jesus.
20. Lover of Jesus. Daughter. Sister. Friend. Servant. Fan of the kitchen. Graduate of Masters of Biblical Counseling.
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Hands Open. Heart Full.