Are you honest with yourself?
Like… really honest?
I sometimes think I’m unwilling to admit how much I don’t have it together… I sometimes think I’m unwilling to admit how much I doubt, how much I struggle, how much I’m jealous, how much I’m selfish, how much I’m lazy, how much I just don’t care.
‘Cause if I were to admit all those things, what kind of person would that make me?
And so I pretend. Don’t we all?
As I sit here, typing at my desk, I hear a camper off in the distance screaming at the top of his lungs. It’s real. It’s angry. He’s been abandoned by his father.
I can’t remember the last time that I just let loose. The last time when I screamed at the top of my lungs, the last time when I wept uncontrollably, the last time when I’ve allowed myself to be…. imperfect.
I’m ticked at Christianity.
I’m ticked at society.
I’m ticked at myself.
I’m ticked at the expectations that have been placed on me and the expectations that I’ve placed on myself.
‘No one must ever see you stumble’ seems perpetually stamped on my heart. For as much as I can tell you that I struggle, seeing it becomes an entirely different issue.
Two nights ago I was pegged in the back of the head with a water balloon. A half hour later I was pegged square in the chest. Bad luck. I didn’t know how to respond, either. It was that awkward moment where you feel dumb, but you simultaneously want to play it off like it’s no big deal. People are staring… some are laughing, some are gawking, some just don’t care. But I felt like everyone was watching.
Isn’t that life, though?
Something happens… and we fumble through which mask to throw on as we speedily attempt to recover in the most gracious way possible. Sometimes we laugh at ourselves, sometimes we beat ourselves up, sometimes we try to ignore what just happened, sometimes we storm out angrily, sometimes we throw a temper tantrum.
I can’t remember the last time I reacted to something without filtering through a thousand different scenarios of how people might view me if I just reacted the way I wanted to.
Because, when it comes down to it, I’m not very honest with myself because I’m still holding myself to the standard of how others view me.
What if I screamed at the top of my lungs…?
What if I wept uncontrollably…?
…what if I stopped trying to hold it all together and was?
Tonight’s one of those nights.
One of those nights where I’m reminded that there is nothing good in me… and only through Christ have I been redeemed. It’s one of those nights where if I’m really honest with myself, I see that in my weakness He is made strong… and that in His strength, He is more than enough for me.
So maybe if I can bring myself to not only admit that I’m imperfect… but then be willing to let go of this ridiculous standard that I’m trying to hold myself to…
Maybe then I just might be the type of person who is desperate for Jesus… instead of the type of person who is self-righteous and prideful, hiding the reality of who I am behind a mask of someone I can only wish to be.
Which would you rather be?
Honesty blows.
But it’s always better.
So go scream.
Go cry.
Let loose.
And in your weakness, believe that you might just actually be at your very best.