World Movers

You know, I have been exceedingly fortunate in the women that God has graciously placed in my life. Women who are passionate, fearless, strong, compassionate, and courageous. Though I know that often they do not feel like any of those things let alone all of them.

You may think that I have rose colored glasses on when I look at you. I can hear the skepticism in your voice, "that's not me. she doesn't know the real me. if only she knew the full truth. if only..." Some of that skepticism is based out of true humility and some is from undervaluation (I can't believe spell check is letting that word pass). And the reason, I can hear the voices in your heads, is not due to telepathic ability, nor to an exceedingly creepy and curiously effective stalking method, but rather those are the same voices that whisper to my mind and creep into my heart.

As much as I fully long to be known, there is always the fear of revulsion when the dirt is exposed. The constant struggle with being open, honest, and vulnerable paired with the instinctive desire to guard this heart and not show any sign of my weakness. There is so much weakness, so much dirt, and so much grace. As much as I deeply and truly feel my imperfection, my mistakes, my unworthiness, I truly begin to understand my God, His sacrifice, and His character. I don't understand how or why God loves me. Nor why Christ would be willing to die on Calvary for me. But God is faithful and He does not lie. Why would He? And He has said that He loves me. Plain and simple. Only it wasn't that simple, it took a price to love me. And because He loved me, He paid it. Dirt and all, because He said He would and that He loved me.

So this blog has veered from its original intent (guess Allyson isn't the only one going down the bunny trails). But I think that this bunny trail is truer to the heart of what I want to say. Those lies that you believe that cause you to want to hide behind your mask, are just that: lies. We are dead. That past is dead. Those imperfections dead. Dead I say, because we are covered in the blood of Christ. And in His blood, we are found righteous, beautiful, something new. And we have new names: Christian. And even more so, He has given us His Spirit as a deposit of what is yet to come. And ladies, that is not a Spirit of timidity.

So when I name you as I see you, do not call me a liar nor a fool. My glasses are not lensed with roses. But my heart does see through different eyes. Though I too struggle to see myself this way, I know it is true. My value, my worth is not dependent on my works. What the world says I am, has no part in my identity. I am a daughter of the King. It is my God who defines me, and whom I want to dance for. Though I still struggle to wade through the waters of this world, I want it to be the joy set before me that enables me to endure the hardness of this world, scorning its shame, giving me perseverance to run this race.

So ladies, those who read this and those who don't, but all the ones that my wonderous God has placed in my life, thank you for being reminders, examples of promises, for struggling beside me, being fellow warriors, and for rejoicing with me in my Creator and His work. My prince who knows the depths of my heart, knew that I would need you. And I call Him gracious because as good as He always is, He has chosen to provide.