Monday, August 22, 2016

Battle Wounds & Warpaint

Hello God. It's me. Gosh that sounded awfully Adele-ish if she were a worship leader. Oops! But that would be awesome, I will not lie. I kinda am obsessed with love her.

I know I'm no one exceptional. I won't ever be making headlines like Michael Phelps has over the last few weeks. I'm not a champion of anything. You name it--bowling, running, ping pong, a focused mind, weight management, coordination, dancing, crafts--I'm terrible at it. I bomb. I stink. I just outright CANNOT do a lot of things.

I see other people achieving great things. I see Olympic gymnasts slayin' it when I struggle not to trip on air. I see all the supermoms at the PTA Pinteresting so hard, and I'm confident my popsicle stick creation who be a hot mess-house of cards. I see people who never have to work hard at losing a few pounds, but I could starve for 3 days and still gain weight.

I am but one small portion of Your creation with no real extraordinary skills that translate to the worldly definition of success.

I accepted that I would never be an Olympian as a 6 year old because I fell on my keester more than I stood on my feet. I accepted that I will never reign supreme at being the mom's mom who is good at all things Crayola because my creations are more like Crapola. It doesn't matter what I have or haven't eaten, I have always struggled with weight. I always resolve to keep trying because I don't feel comfortable in my own skin. Maybe I'll get there one day. Maybe I won't.

But here's one thing I'm sure of: I want to do something big for You, I always have. I just assumed that my depression disqualified me from working for You. I saw people out there doing amazing things. Great things. Big, big, BIG things. They're bringing thousands of people to know You. They write bestsellers. They travel the world to feed the malnourished and the spiritually hungry. There have been times when my depression has felt like an anchor holding me back from doing big things for You. If I'm being honest, I feel this far more often than not. And I thought I would never do anything big for You. So I thought my worth was less than these people doing big things.

Talk about a load of Crapola.

For a long time I didn't know what it was that I would do for You. I didn't know what You wanted me to do. I do now. I now believe that this depression of mine makes me uniquely qualified to work with the mentally different {see here}; to work with them for You. To help them see their worth. To help them remove the stigma.

Sometimes this messy tearstained face represents my battle wounds, but I'm learning to turn it into my warpaint. I'm going to war against the stigma for people who suffer from depression, anxiety, PTSD, or any other mental difference. I'm not skilled in the traditional sense of being skilled, all I have to offer You is my broken heart. I will give every last shard of my broken heart to You and to people who are told to get over it, take a jog, or stop being a drama queen. I love these people without limits. They are Your people, but they are also mine. I will never stop working for them. My broken heart drives me to heal theirs, and my purpose is this cause.

That's better than any bestseller. It doesn't take being KNOWN to work for You. It doesn't take EXPOSURE to help people. You don't want me to wait to start working until I've passed go and have a blue checkmark on my blog's Facebook page. You want me as I am, right now. All you want is my heart, and it's all Yours. And if I use it help one person who is mentally different, that is more than enough, because You love that person enough to know the number of hairs on their head. I get that now.

And to you, dear reader, if you're someone like me who wants to achieve greatness for God, the greatest thing you can ever achieve is to give Him your heart. That is way more than enough.



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