I have a confession to make:
I frequently envy other people’s ability to express themselves.
I am in constant struggles over whether or not what I could write here may possibly be good enough or helpful or useful or if I’m just one more lame person with a blog.
But for some reason, I am captivated by blogs. I read a few semi-regularly and I feel like I know these people… like they speak more truth into my life than most of my friends can. And in some ways they do because their vulnerability tears deep into my deepest most broken places and leaves me weeping on the floor of my bedroom.
Because I need things like that to rub me raw.
I need stupid runs to Costco that I did not want to do and people that forget to love me well and a dad who finally showed up to something and an unrequited crush on a boy who barely knows my name. I need those things. Not because they themselves are good or helpful or useful, but because they point me straight back to Jesus.
In my deepest most broken places, I need Jesus. I need those moments of total awareness that I am a mess and that I cannot pretend to do this alone. That the reality of His love for me transcends any silly blog, any need to be liked by people or whether or not my coworkers respected me today. He LOVES me.
Better yet, God likes me. Even in spite of my broken and messy and empty heart.
So regardless of whether or not anyone else finds that helpful or if it was worded beautifully/poetically, that is true for me. Right now and tomorrow and forever.
I am loved by a Father who always shows up. I am liked by a Savior who reminds me that I’m going to be okay.