After expressing some of her own
faith-doubts a while back, a friend of mine asked the question, “Is there
anything you have a hard time believing?”
Without hesitation, I proceeded to
list about a dozen doubts that I struggle with, relative to God or my faith, on
a regular basis. A dozen faith-doubts, right off the top of my head.
“You seem like such a rock,” she’d
replied in a tone of surprise. “You have a strong grasp of scripture and
knowledge of God. I would not have guessed that you have doubts like that.”
Her response floored me. Me? A
rock? I am the furthest thing from a rock.
We all have doubts and fears and
insecurities, regardless of how grounded we are in our faith. It doesn’t matter
if others can see them or not; they’re still there, in all of us. In him. In
her. In you. In me.
I tend to assume others can see mine
(or at least see that they're there), because they are so blaringly obvious to me, and
because I am (or at least try to be) fairly transparent with others about my
struggles. But that conversation caused me to realize that may not be the case.
Apparently, it is possible to see me – even to know me fairly well – and to
assume that I am so grounded in my walk with Christ, or perhaps because I am a
pastor's wife, that I never doubt Him or His will or His way or where I fit
into all of those things. That is a lie. A from-the-pit-of-hell lie. I have
lots of doubts, I am often afraid, and I can be so very insecure at times… just
like you.
And the notion that someone might
think that I have a doubt-free, fear-free, insecurities-free faith bothers me,
because that’s simply not my reality. It's not anyone’s reality, if we're brave
enough to admit it – at least not all the time.
So rather than assuming you know I
struggle at times with doubts and fears and insecurities, I'm going to make a
conscious effort to share some of them with you as they come up… share them,
and then resolve them (because they are meant to be had and dealt with, not
just had and kept).
My beast of an insecurity a few days
ago was believing this lie: “There is no place for you (or someone like you) in
this world.”
The source of the lie? Well, it
stemmed from good, well-intended, necessary words spoken to me by a friend; but
its roots went far deeper. These words were initially heard by me as they were
intended, and then read further into by me in the quiet spaces of my mind later
that same evening. Those internally-elaborated-on words were then coupled with
other words – unnecessary, untrue, wounding words that had been spoken to me
years earlier by someone else. And though both sets of words had been spoken
regarding two entirely unrelated matters, by the time my eyes, heavy with much
day, had begun to fall shut in the darkness of night, those words had all meshed together, forming one
cohesive, fallacious narrative in my mind.
Mornings are a peaceful time
of deep thought and reminiscing, for me. A time of welcome revelations and much needed resolutions. Mornings are usually my favorite time of day. That next morning, however, the sun’s rising was marked with
deep unrest and met with a strong cup of coffee… and whispers from the enemy –
the cruelest of all, the one who comes to steal and kill and destroy (John 10:10). The loudest whispers heard fully
in the silence of morning. Reminding. Berating. Accusing. Shaming.
And so it came, the lie, spoken to
the most-wounded part of my being in that moment: “There is no place for you
(or someone like you) in this world.” And for a moment, I wondered if that
were true. I wondered if the world would be better off without me. I wondered
if I was simply too much or too different or too broken or too misunderstood
for this life. I wondered…
I wondered, and I felt it – all of
the wondering; and then, remembering the truth, I rejected the lie.
I remembered that being misunderstood or different or broken, or even
being much – being "too much" – was not a crime.
I remembered that God created my inmost being and knit me together in my
mother's womb (Psalm 139:13). I remembered that I am
fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14).
I remembered that I am His handiwork, created to fulfill good purposes
which were preordained for me - specifically for me, in all of my too
different, too broken, too misunderstood, and too muchness – to fulfill (Ephesians 2:10).
I remembered who my Heavenly Father is; and I remembered who I am, in
Him.
And by remembering these things, I
could silence the enemy and declare this truth: that there is, in fact, a place
for me (and others like me) in this world. I am who I was meant to be, and I am
becoming exactly who I am meant to become; and God's handiwork is always good (Genesis 1).
So you can see, I have my share of
doubts, fears, and insecurities with the best of you. But doubts, fears, and
insecurities are meant to be had and dealt with, not just had and kept. And how
are they dealt with? By taking them to Jesus and allowing His truths to wash
over us.
The unmerited declaration of my
friend still plays over in my mind. “You seem like such a rock...” No. I
am no rock; but He is, and so I stand on Him.
"He only is my rock and my
salvation, My stronghold; I shall not be greatly shaken." - Psalm 62:2
(NASB)
"Therefore thus says the Lord
GOD, 'Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone, a tested stone, A costly cornerstone
for the foundation, firmly placed. He who believes in it will not be
disturbed.'" - Isaiah 28:16 (NASB)
