Storytelling

I am a failure. I am a loser. I am not worth it. I’m a washed-up, has-been, wanna-be pretender who doesn’t deserve to be loved and certainly shouldn’t be blessed. Have you ever told yourself that same destructive story? Do you feel like your life is defined by your worst mistakes and your biggest failures? If so, let me tell you….I’ve been there, too. In my darkest moments, I have wept over my failures and told myself every negative, self-condemning lie that deemed me unforgiveable and unlovable. It’s at that point, when we find ourselves at the end of our rope, completely humiliated and humbled, we are faced with a choice to either hold onto the failure and let it define us, or let it go and receive something better. Here is where I’m met with what I’m most thankful for in this world, the truth of who I really am. The undeniable reality of what defines me in this world, and where I find joy in the pain, strength in weakness, and life for my soul. I’ve learned to tell better stories.

Growing up in a blended family, I was the youngest of 4 kids and considered to be somewhat of the “golden child”. I was my mom’s baby. She married my step-dad when I was just 2 years old and he adopted my brother and me. He was a wonderful Dad who has always loved me as his own. There was tension in the home amongst some of the “step” relations, but as far as I was concerned life was pretty good. You might even say I was a bit spoiled, which I appreciated at the time but it did not serve me well in my adult life. I developed an attitude of entitlement and learned that looking good and “right” on the outside were more important than actually living with integrity and character. I learned to love with a selfish love that was motivated by praise and recognition rather than humility and compassion. In short, I was a mess.

About 5 years ago I found myself navigating a labyrinth of hell that I had created in my life. My marriage and family were fractured, my career was in jeopardy, and my soul was being crushed to the point of despair. As I sat on the couch across from Jim, a wise mental health counselor (whom I am eternally grateful for), he asked me pointedly, “Have you always been a coward?” Wow! How does one answer that question? But he was right. I was living in fear; cowardly and in shame. He wasn’t going to just let me skate by looking good on the outside. He was brutally honest about the mess I had made of my life and what got me there in the first place. But he didn’t stop there. As the weekly visits with Jim continued, he began to peel open the layers of my heart and reveal the truth of who I am. Coward doesn’t define me. Failure is not my identity. I am loved. I am valuable. I have hope, and promise, and a future. I have a better story to tell.

I don’t care where you’ve been or what you’ve done. It doesn’t matter how you’ve stumbled and fumbled your way through life. These things don’t define us. As human beings living on this beautiful planet, we were made in the image of God. The imago dei. A holy and divine spirit inhabits every single person, including you and me. With all our screw-ups and blow-its, there remains a love for us that is unshaken by our humanity. The love of God, a Father, a step-father who has chosen to adopt us and treat us as his own. That becomes our identity; a son, a daughter. Redeemed, loved, and valued. Nothing can separate us from the love of God. His love is what tells us who we are. He shows us that we are infinitely valuable in this world. His voice tells us a better story about ourselves, and that’s something we can all be eternally grateful for. So what story are you telling yourself today?

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