WHY I BLOG

When I was 9, I cried in a bathroom because my relatives told that I was dark and my sister was fair. So I was insecure about my skin color.

At 12, I hid under the cot since I had a big nose. So I wouldn't like to meet the guests at who came home.

At 14, I cringed when we had to take class photos during school picnic because I was short and thought I was ugly. So I hid my picture.

At 20, I cried when that boy broke my heart because he met a prettier girl. So I felt nobody would ever like me and I would never get married.

At 22, I when everyone had their ministry, I was depressed that I couldn't preach or sing like my dad or sister did.

At 24, I realized that I had spent the first two decades of my life believing the lie that I needed to be perfect. Clean, crisp and poised. So I did all I could to hide my messes. My insecurities. My doubt. My discouragement.

But the truth is that I always felt out of place. I felt too messy and awkward and ugly.

And that's half the reason why my blog has messy and unusual stories. But the truth is that it's a sanctuary for me, where I can pour out my heart before God. A place where I can drop the filters and be the sad little girl that hid in a bathroom. Except there's no hiding under the cot, no comparison, no judgment, no holding back. It's me, my heart poured out in every color, scratch, and squiggle. Because I had found comfort and confidence in one place alone - at Jesus' feet. And today, it's still the only place I'm free to drop the filters, to feel imperfect and ugly without wanting to hide, and free to be messy with a God who adores every ounce of me. And my out-pour on the page is out of my own experiences. It is to encourage you that there is hope in Christ alone.

God has turned my mess into a message. It's true for you, too. So if you're feeling fat, short or ugly or heartbroken or discouraged or messed up: that's okay. There is HOPE!

Your greatest testimony is that you went through fire but you don't smell like smoke!

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THE MASK

I live in a glass house. Being a preacher’s daughter, I knew at a young age that our family was on display. We are the model for what a family was to look like. All eyes are on us. Perfection became not just my standard but my obsession. When I was incapable of attaining perfection, I became really good at hiding my imperfections. So good, in fact, that I had almost fooled myself into thinking I was perfect. From the outside looking in, I had it all together. Hair always perfectly in place, topper of my class, never missed church, always well behaved but it was all a part of the mask I put on. My imperfections hid just beneath the surface and I wanted to keep it that way. I just figured that if I didn’t let people too close then they would never have to find out the truth. My secret would stay safe and secure deep within me and people would like me–the perfect, but false, version of me.

My behavior resembled that of a little girl trying to win the approval of her father. “See how I can go to church every Sunday, Daddy?”

“Watch how I can read my Bible, Daddy…!”
“Look at me, Daddy. Aren’t you so proud of how good I can be?”

The problem? I’m not perfect. So the second I put on a mask, I would glance around to make sure no one was looking. And I would put on a mask–often–because trying to be perfect is exhausting. But, of course, I would just act like nothing happened and go on my way. I would push the shame deep down inside of me to keep from having to come to Him with it. I was actually blinded to the fact that I can’t hide from the Lord. Something deep inside troubled me because of not confessing and repenting when my imperfections made their way to the surface but, actually, I was just creating a deeper pit of shame between the One I could go to and find true forgiveness. Before I knew it, I was so deep in my frustration with myself that I didn’t even realize I had completely alienated myself from Him. I realized I needed to be honest before God. I had to deal with myself.

Am I perfect now? Of course not. But now I have come to see how God uses my imperfections to reveal more of who He is to me. Today, I still live in a glass house. This time, though, nothing is hidden. Everything I am, everything He created me to be is out there for everyone to see. There are no secrets, no false masks–only the imperfect me who strives to follow a perfect Him. The me He created me to be.

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