It has been almost a month since I fell down some stairs at
a movie theater and sprained my ankle. It has been an area of contention
between God and myself because I am healing so very slowly. I am independent. I
don’t need help. At least that is what I fool myself into thinking. I had no idea that this sprained ankle would
turn into part of my testimony. You see I’ve
learned from a very early age that I have to care for myself because people
won’t do it for me. God has opened my eyes and most importantly my heart and
shown me my dependence on myself has hindered my relationship with Him. My
prayer as I write these words is that God would use them for His glory. I am
taking risk by sharing these stories and taking off my mask and laying it at
His feet.
I wear a mask. Many
masks really. Masks that don’t give people the full picture of who I am.
Broken. I am so very broken. It all started as a little girl.
One of my first memories of my life is of my grandfather
rejecting a hug I gave him. I remember his hands physically pushing me back. I
remember the scent of the night air, the glow of the moon. I remember his face.
I remember the rejection. I remember the voice telling me “He doesn’t love you,
you aren’t good enough.” So the lie was planted that I was not good enough. I
would never be good enough for him. His open condemnation of my weight would be
an ongoing issue for me as he’d remind me at each visit how I didn’t measure up
to his standard. I was not enough for his love. It led to destructive thoughts
about my body image, which led to an eating disorder in my late teens. If I
didn’t measure up to his standards even at a healthy weight how in the world would
I add up in the eyes of God? So I aimed for perfection in good behavior. It was
really the only thing I excelled in. I surely was winning no medals in school. I
was dyslexic and barely reading. I was shy and quiet and so I withdrew deeper
into my shell. The lie grew deeper year after year as I aimed for high
achievement in perfect behavior. It only
led to discontentment and deep-rooted shame. Locking myself behind bars ashamed
of the imperfect me. Discontent with the way God had made me. I was wishing I
could be outgoing, vivacious, and well skinny and I felt shame for not being
able to achieve those things.
The mask of perfection would follow me throughout my life. I
grew up as a pastor’s kid. Perfection was the expectation. People saw a perfect
family on the outside but hidden behind the walls of our home was ongoing chaos
and out of control behavior. Parents unable to handle my older sibling who was angry
at the world. He took his anger out on my parents, his siblings, and everyone
in his path. I will never forget one night late in the summer. The Summer I was
turning 16. I turned my music too loud while he was trying to watch tv with his
girlfriend and it stirred his anger so much that it resulted in a violent
outburst with his hands around my neck trying to strangle me. There was no crusade
to rescue me that night, no protection from the ones given the responsibility
to protect me but there were plenty of excuses for his behavior. Everyone came to his defense. There always
would be excuses for him. “Forgive Carissa.” “Try to get a long.” So the lie I
believed that I somehow I was responsible for his behavior began. That night I learned self-dependence. That night I learned that no one was going to
protect me, not even the people God said were suppose to. So if my parents
weren’t going to fight for me I’d fight for myself. I let God off the hook, He obviously was not
doing his job and I could do better. I may not have the scars on my body but I
carry the scars on my heart. So my self-protection became my God.
I learned how to keep people happy. I also learned not to
get close. I learned to keep the waters calm, to keep everything inside. I learned
the art of people pleasing and I was a master artist. I enjoyed the pat of the
back for being the responsible one but inside I was slowly dying and mourning
the loss of the freedom to be me.
At the beginning of each year I pick a word to represent my
prayer for my spiritual growth throughout the year. This year my word is FREE.
In order for my freedom in Christ to flourish, I have got to kill these
deep-rooted sins of perfection and self-reliance. It is more than just
confessing these lies. These lies are so ingrained in my system that it is
second nature and will take more than a confession but a continual on-going
weeding session until all the roots have been pulled.
Yesterday as I was teaching the 4-6 year olds at our Church,
a little girl got her finger stepped on. She came to me hurt. She was a visitor so she
had no idea who I was or I her. As I was offering my comfort she took my hand
and got up on my lap and took my arms to wrap around her for a hug, she didn’t
see my mask, she new who her comforter was and that was me. I sat there with
her on my lap, arms wrapped around her, and I marveled that I would be
favorable in her eyes. It was like God giving me a warm hug. There were no
masks between us. It was just the two of us in a room of 17 other kids. God
used it to remind me there are no masks with him either. He knows me. My
creator made me, designed me, and finds me desirable. He is just like that
little girl. He sees right through the mask and sees me as lovely, worthy, and
enough. I am enough.
I still have a lot of healing to do but I am so thankful
that God has been opening my eyes to these deep wounds and allowing me to
uproot these sins. My prayer is not for perfection any more. I’ve seen how that
works and it never ends well. I’m aiming for Jesus and the result from aiming
for Him is becoming more like Him by His perfect power. He gives grace to even
girls like me. Girls in hiding afraid to come out and live in the freedom He
gives. I will bask in the freedom of His forgiveness. I will bask in His mercy.
Just like the little girl in my class came to me, I will get up on my Saviors
lap and let His love fill my broken heart.
