What I'm Not

“God doesn’t make junk. You are an original masterpiece.”
-The Skit Guys

There was a certain part during the retreat when the head facilitator asked us to write the bad stuff. And by these he meant all of our insecurities, our problems, the labels that has been haunting us, our fears, everything. He said he wanted us to write them down because we were going to burn the paper containing these words. At first I shrugged it off and thanked him silently for such an easy task. But as I started writing, I found out that it wasn’t easy at all. I started crying and it felt as if it was getting harder and harder for me to write the words down.

They may be just words, but the words I wrote down were the ones that haunt me during my weakest times; especially during my weakest times. And as I tried to remember them, it felt as if my heart began crumbling into pieces. They were not words. They were scars I carried with me. I forgot I was carrying them, and remembering that they existed made it hurt more. It felt as if the scars were once again wounds that were embedded for the first time against my skin.

I felt vulnerable and ugly. I didn’t like any of it. But I stood there; paper in hand, words of hate filling me up. Was that all I was made up?

Scars

The words I wrote were the things I hated about myself. They were my mistakes, my flaws, and my fears. Writing them made me cry a lot. I had to get out of the room and hide in one of the stalls of the girl’s bathroom so that no one would see the utter and incredibly ugly mess I was made up. I didn’t want anyone to see me crying like that.

Usually in retreats I cry because I was either filled with God’s love or filled with amazing realization and repentance. But this time, it was different. As I was crying, I knew that God was there. But even so, I couldn’t stop the pain welling up in my chest. The words I wrote on that piece of paper were something I couldn’t take my eyes off. At that moment it felt as if it was louder than God’s words. I know He was there, I know He was. But the words were there too. And they hurt more than they should because a part of me believed they were true.

After trying to compose myself and trying to breathe normally again, I looked at myself in the mirror. Then, I looked at the paper again.

Different. Not good enough. Ugly. Unwanted. Unloved. Replaceable. Unimportant. Plain. Stupid.

These were just a few of those words, the list went on. I stared at my reflection again with tears stinging my eyes. Was that really all there is to me? Was it supposed to be like this?

At that time, I believed I was. I felt heavy and every part of me ached. I tried to cry it off hoping that the feeling would go away, but it didn’t. It stayed there with me. The crying stopped eventually of course. But that feeling of being unwanted and unloved lurked. 

Not Junk

The facilitator arranged us into a circle where the cross was in the middle. Then he started to play this video.

“I can’t be good,” the man said. (And at this point I dissolved into a puddle of tears again.)

“I made you good.” Said God. “You’ve been listening too much to voices that are not from me.”

I couldn’t believe how much the video was too similar and exact to what I was feeling. And I kept crying in the dark, listening to the video. I knew I’ve let Him down so many times. I’ve always known that I’ve been failing so many times, been ignoring Him. I didn’t feel like someone worthy of anything from Him. But He said something that I cannot forget.

“I made you good. You are good. I'm proud of you, of what you're trying to do, of your thoughts, of your actions, of your words. I know you. You are destined to do great things. You are My child. Please keep going. You are Mine. You are talented and you have a purpose in this world. This purpose will change everything. I gave this only to you because you are meant to accomplish it. You are loved in every way, more than you know. You are so loved. I love you so much for trying, for wanting to please Me. You are always enough. Everything you have is Mine, it's from Me and I made you great. You are not wrong. You are on the right path. Don't be afraid, walk towards Me. I'm already proud. These are My words not yours. You know that. I'm here. Do not doubt, because I am here. I am with you, child. You are Mine and I am yours. I know what you're thinking and what you're going through.  And I've said this numerous times already, but I really am proud of you. You're wondering if this is really me and not just you. Think about it. You said it yourself, Fudge. You can hear me. Don't be scared. Don't be afraid. I am yours and you are Mine. I love you, Fudge. More than this world. Why? Because I made you to be loved. You are worthy of love. I'm so proud of you for trying to help others. I'm so proud of you for knowing what is right. This is Me. Trust Me.”

And even as I type this now, I still can’t help but break down and tear up. I really have no idea what to feel when I heard this, because inside of me I felt a battle. It’s as if I was battling with myself whether to just trust Him and let go or just keep listening to what I’m used to, to what’s familiar to me. But I’m tired of having so much pain. I’m just tired of holding on to the lies. I knew deep down that they were lies.

“These are not yours. They are not your words and never will be yours. They are lies given to you. You are good. You have no idea how amazing you are, my child. Everything in you is more than enough. You are great. And it’s okay to be scared because I’m here. I’m here to catch you, I have always been here, waiting for you. You are loved. I’m here.”

“Is that really true God?” I asked. “Do you really love me in this flawed state? Even if I’m lazy, I’m weak, and so unworthy of you? Why would you still love me? What’s good about being me? What’s good about being junk?”

“I don’t make junk. You are not junk and never will be junk. You are Mine. You know that. You are Mine. Always and forever will be Mine. You are not junk. You see things differently and you can change things. If I the Lord have faith in you, who should you fear? I love you. If I the Lord am by your side, who should you be afraid of? You are not junk. You’re Mine. And with me you will do great things. You have never let me down because I know how hard you try, I know you and I’ve always been proud. You are Mine and I am yours. You are loved.”

“Okay, Lord.” I whispered, face in my hands. “Help me. I still am flawed, I still can’t hear the things I should. Help me. I want to accept these words by heart. I really do.”

“Then accept Me, my child. Let me in.”

Burning the Lies

Later that night, we burned that paper.  That paper that was full of lies and things that never really mattered. All of the words I wrote there were lies, all of them. It took a lot harder than I expected to accept that. But it got easier once I did. Because, why would I believe in something someone else other than Him told me? The Lord told me that I am His, and that said it all. Those words just shook my heart. Him claiming me as His own was just… mind-blowing. I felt so special. And He says I am, and I believe Him.

Hearing His voice would sometimes still be a challenge, but I know He’s always there. And I know He always will be. And I know that my life is His and I would want to live it the way I should.

I guess, the best thing you could just do is burn those lies. I know everyone has them, those lies that we carry with us. Just burn them because they don’t exist. They’re not true. The truth is that we are children of God. Burn the lies and let Him in. I promise you, you will feel as light as I did. And I felt as if I could fly. I felt as if I could do anything. And I actually can.

With God beside me, whom shall I fear?

My Prayer

So Lord, all in all; thank you. My life is yours and always will be. I am not perfect, but I will live in your name. Use me Lord and help me become the person you made me to be. Even though it’s small, I offer you my life. It’s yours and I trust you. I love you, Lord. Thank you for loving me. Thank you so much.

I know I'm not junk, I'm your child. And I want to live my life like you planned. I want to live it as your most amazing masterpiece.