Dear friend,

 

I don't remember the first time someone said it. But I do remember how I felt.

 

It was some version of, “You're intimidating.” I took it as you make me feel bad.

Then it was, “I used to dislike you, but…” and I didn't hear anything after dislike you. 

Later on, in motherhood, it was always some version of  you're intense, I didn't like you until I met you, you made me feel bad about myself… and no one ever stopped to ask how those words made ME feel about myself. That didn't matter. I was the problem. I was the one who had to make herself smaller, because who I was was always too much. I spent years cringing and cowering, feeling too big for the room, too “together” (even though I had plenty of weaknesses and failings), too… everything.

 

So I made myself smaller. I wore clothes I didn't like because the ones I did like were too “fancy” for my Midwestern world. I slouched instead of standing tall. I even apologized for the inconvenience of having to spell my name – years of being told I was too much, that I was the source of others' insecurity, made even my own name seem cumbersome. “I'm sorry, it's a lot," became code for “I'm sorry, I'm a lot.”

 

But one day, Galatians 1:10 jumped off the page:

 

 

I realized – perhaps for the first time – that by internalizing the insecurities of others I was taking responsibility for something that was not mine to bear. I was not – and am not – here to please people. I am here to please Christ. And if I am truly pleasing to Christ, my character will bear the fruit of His Spirit. I will not be unloving, proud, divisive, condescending or rude.

 

But even so… some people still won't like me. I will still be misunderstood.

Two comments were made this week. The first was well-intended, as most of these comments are, but it brought back waves of past hurt: You're an intense personality. In other words… 

That's where my mind wanted to run. I had a choice in that moment: Allow insecurity about being “too much” dictate my response, or allow Christ and His truth to overwhelm me.

 

 

It IS a lie. It is. The comments spoken out of insecurity, well intended or not, are daggers of an enemy seeking to destroy our souls. When we let the words of people dictate who we are (or aren't), reacting to and against them, we're simply servants of men.

 

The lies I believed as a teenager and twenty-something were these:

 

Like wheat and tares, my God-given personality grew alongside the lies, intermingled and intertwined. It was hard to tell what part of me developed because of the lie and what part was really true to God's design. But as I grew deeper in my walk with Christ, the division became more clear. I began to discern why “You intimidate me” cut so deep, hurt so much. It reaffirmed the lie: You'll never be accepted. You're the problem. Your personality is unlikeable, unwelcome, unwanted.

 

And at first, I took it all as gospel. Until the gospel showed me this was wrong. 

 

The perceptions of people are not always true. In fact, they're often very wrong. Our insecurities blind us to the goodness in others; we put our selves and our own fears at the forefront. Too often we don't see people as they are. We see them as affronts to who we want to be. We view people through the lens of our own lack rather than seeing them as image-bearers of God. And it goes both ways. We speak our lack over others; they take it, consume it, dwell on it, and become the very thing they fear. 

 

Truth is, I'm not a bad friend. I try hard. I fail sometimes. And my truest friends are gracious, patient, and kind for my lack.

Truth is, I am very wanted by my husband, my kids, my community and most of all, my God. 

Truth is, I'm unequivocally accepted by Christ and I have the privilege of accepting others.

Truth is, I don't have to earn God's love and I'm under His never changing favor.

 

The other comment was also in passing, but it was a far different tone. It was in context of advice about something I needed to do - something hard, something I felt doubtful in my ability to do.

 

“You'll handle it well,” They said. “You're a gentle soul."

 

My heart paused and the tears welled and I wondered why – why did such a sentence impact me this way? It spoke to my spirit like a balm. I felt seen. I felt believed. I thought of the other words I'd heard that impacted me similarly:

 

 

The words sunk deep, clung to me, because they were counter to the lies. 

You're a gentle soul healed you're too much.

Your voice brings me peace healed you're too loud.

I am equipped healed you're too together. 

I can be strong healed you're not raw enough. 

 

Maybe the very things you were told were a liability, the things people said were “too much”, are the very things that will bless the person ready to receive it. And as for the ones not ready to receive what you are doing, what God is doing in you – you don't need to accept their condemnation. They don't know how their words intertwine with the lies, and they don't have to. But you can counter it all with the truth. 

 

 

You might be misunderstood. Your strengths might be seen as liabilities. You're probably in need of as much sanctification as I am. But don't let someone else's view of your lack determine whether or not you follow Christ confidently. One day, a human will recognize who God made you to be. Until then, rest in assurance that God sees it. 

And He's not intimidated by you.

 

 

 

 

A: Jesus took our condemnation. This does NOT mean we are free from the consequences of sin in this world! God still permits/allows consequences for our sinful choices (e.g. getting arrested for a DUI, losing a job because of lack of integrity). This episode breaks down the difference between condemnation and consequences. (This is an important topic because some gentle parenting proponents are erroneously teaching that God no longer gives consequences, and therefore parents shouldn't either). 

 

 

A: As I have articulated, we celebrate All Saints Day. We do this because Reformation Day celebrates only one small portion of church history, and while it was necessary at the time, it led to the division of the church in a bloody time in history. All Saints Day, conversely, celebrates “all the saints” – all the missionaries, teachers, pastors, and great Christians of the ages. We choose the latter. 

 

 

A: The NAR stands for New Apostolic Reformation. It is a term coined by C. Peter Wagner to describe a loose movement of churches within the charismatic/Pentecostal tradition. It is NOT a denomination and most churches labelled “NAR” would not call themselves that. It is a scholarly/outside term applied to them. In cessationist circles the NAR has become a blanket term to describe most charismatic churches, whether or not they are in fact operating in unhealthy patterns with the spiritual gifts. More on this here

 

 

October is historically the busiest month of our year, and I am relieved to be in November. While the rest of the world might be gearing up for the holidays, November and December are my slow seasons - aside from the manuscript that's due January 15th! My goal in November is to be home as much as possible (which is ironically hard and requires intentionality, despite being work at home/homeschooling parents!). Some things we are trying to do this month….