I’ve been gingerly reading through Waking the Dead by John Eldridge. I read the book in small doses because John’s words turn to fire the minute I ingest them and I see things I’ve long forgotten. Like childhood.
If I had been self-aware I would have known by age ten that I was an artist. I had no clue. During high school I wished into the deep well of my locker that I could be as wild, self-assured and beautiful as the crew that strolled out of art class every day. And then I’d give myself a shake. I didn’t believe I had the talent. I didn’t believe I was worthy.
Yesterday, as I read John’s words, God suddenly broke through my thick excuses. He created me with a purpose. For someone like me who generally tends to feel useless, this is a profound idea. No matter what I think about myself, no matter how far I run from my purpose, God won’t change ‘the plan.’ No I’m not saying that we don’t have free will or we can’t alter our lives with our choices.
What I’m saying is that though I want nothing more than to pursue what God has for me, I tend to run hard in the opposite direction. I’m afraid I’ll fail; I’m afraid I’ll succeed. It’s a ridiculous catch 22 that’s kept me in knots for years. I’ve tried telling God he tapped the wrong girl on the shoulder. I laid it all out, all the reasons why I’m useless and therefore unlovable. But today I realized for the last ten years he’s never moved.
He’s still standing there saying, “Heather I created you, I love you, you were born to write. No matter how far you go that will never change.”
His endless solidity and his kindness have obliterated my excuses. And I’m profoundly thankful. Even in the midst of my terrible mistakes I can’t shake God or what he has planned. And suddenly all the pressure is off and sitting down to write doesn’t feel so terrifying.
Do you believe you have a God-given purpose? How does it keep you grounded? How does it set you free?