“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you;”
Jeremiah 1:5
(This post was written in 2020 and never published. Not much of the story or perspective has changed even with the advantage of a three year hindsight.)
Over the last couple years, since beginning my journey with Jesus, I’ve heard many people speak about my deep hunger often saying, “I love how you’re so on fire for Jesus!”
I don’t bring this up to toot my own horn. In actuality, it’s very uncomfortable for me to replay out loud. But the echo of these words leaves me wondering why my hunger is the exception and not the norm.
I think it goes back to where my brokenness from my past lies. Last week, I would have told you I suffered from fear of abandonment and rejection. And then I would have elaborated on how I’ve constantly sought out the attention and affection of others from childhood. I was seeking words of affirmation to give me a sense of belonging. A place of value in this world.
And when I didn’t receive those words of affirmation or that sense of belonging, I gripped tightly to the thought that I was a failure, rejected, not good enough, unvalued.
“Who am I?”
“Where do I belong?”
“Where is my place in this life?”
To answer these questions I’d seek out other people who could tell me who I was and where I belonged. I’d seek out boyfriends and allow their friends, their love, and their lives to define who I was because alone, on my own, I hadn’t the slightest clue.
I never had a core group of friends. I had lots of friends in different groups but when it came time to sit down for lunch in the cafeteria, I always had anxiety about where I could sit. I would know one person from that table, but while I knew them one-on-one, was I qualified to sit with them while they were with their other friends?
When I finally found a table to sit at, I never felt part of the conversation. You see, all the people at the table were each other’s “people,” their gang, their posse. They had inside jokes and after school plans. And by them not going out of their way to include me and me being too shy insecure to include myself, I built up an identity of Rejected. Not Good Enough.
And in true introjection fashion, I became those words and I lived my life through that lens ensuring that if I felt rejected, it’s because I was rejected. I walked into the cafeteria with the label Reject on my forehead. I lived up to my label so I still had a deep void, a carnal longing for who I was and where I belonged. No place felt like home.
Looking back, I can say that I was sensitive to rejection and feelings of inadequacy. But last week, I realized something profound: I wasn’t reacting from a victim mindset because I was scared of rejection. I was acting like an outcast because I had never found my purpose.
Which brings me back to today and this new life I’m leading. The reason for my strong hunger and my fire for Jesus is because for the first time in my life, I recognize whose I am and that He built me for this life (not the imaginary one I wish I lived in). This life, where things are hard and people are mean. This life is what He so carefully designed and created my most inner parts for. In this body, with this confused mind, with this sensitive heart. He built me like this on purpose, for a purpose.
After asking Jesus to come into my heart fully, and He filled me with His Spirit, so many things changed immediately. Many other character qualities have taken time to reset but for the first time in my life, I felt purposeful.
I saw how my desperation to be someone different, someone I liked–or at least didn’t hate–manifested in an insatiable desire to learn more, to read more. Through that desperation, people who had been believers for their lifetime, told me how it sparked their hunger again and I began to see how Jesus was already using my brokenness and vulnerability to help others.
It gave my pain purpose. All those hours, days, and years searching for someone to complete me, to accept me into their inner circle, to point me in the direction of my calling, my purpose. Those hours, days, and years were not wasted. God can redeem it all.
As I read more about God and ingested His truths and promises, shutting down the questions of doubt and forcibly deciding to go all-in, He continued to be a lamp to my feet, encouraging me that I was on the right path. This encouragement came through well timed songs on the radio, perfectly placed YouTube video recommendations, eerily similar conversations across friend groups that was certainly not to be chalked up to coincidence, and repetitive scripture references.
I began to not only accept who God thinks I am, but believe those same truths about myself. I replaced my name tag of Reject with Worthy. I walked in confidence of whose I was and to whom I belonged. And through this, I began to see how God truly does use the darkest broken parts of us to restore us.
I saw that when I opened up about being an unhappy mother and wife, it helped others to also open up and be truthful about their own hearts.
When I spoke up about having relational problems with my first born, others were able to recognize their struggles through a different lens.
When I spoke up about about my strongholds such as anger and emotional instability, it gave others the courage to admit their struggles.
It gave my pain purpose.
Allowing God to peel back the layers of my heart, to heal them, and to redeem them through helping others gives me purpose. A purpose that only God and I can do.
I didn’t realize it back then but I wasn’t longing to be just a team member, just an included part of the friend pack, or a just partner. I wanted to be a valued team member, a important friend, and a worthy partner. I needed my place to be purposeful.
God has given me purpose.
It has satisfied my soul. Where seeking my identity through other people left me sinking in quicksand, seeking my purpose through God’s restorative work in my heart has left my cup overflowing. It’s what propels me from the day to day. It’s what keeps me coming back for more.
Yes, there are times when God opens a wound that initially stings like a fiery hell, but I serve a God who is gently and lowly. A God that has walked before me and leads me. He is a trustworthy God and when He opens a wound, while I may cry, I trust his healing expertise to make me new again.
And when He completes His healing procedure, I know my pain was not experienced in vain. I hold tight to the lessons I learn through them and wait with bated breath for opportunities to share them others, scattering the seeds far and wide.
So everyday, I ask God to lead me through His gracious healing in hopes that others will see exactly how He can redeem the most unworthy, rejected, mislabeled people.