break the cycle with me

I’m reading Beth Moore’s So Long
Insecurity, right now and last
week came to a section where she has literally written out a
prayerful meditation asking for release from insecurity.

Her
words penned inspired across the page. I was reading, praying, and
claiming the words when I came to six little words that stopped me in
my tracks.

“I
give You my whole heart.” 

The words a plea, a surrender, a prayer
to Father God.

I read
them over and over knowing that I knew those words. They were
familiar. But why?

It
took mere seconds for me to realize…I wrote those words.

“I
give you my heart,” mine just a single word short, but meaning
nothing less.

These
were the words I spoke on my wedding day. I was giving my heart away
(my broken, insecure, desperate, bruised, and beaten heart), but to a
man (an empty, untrustworthy, fragile, scared, shame-filled, shell of
a boy).

I
interrupted my {in}security meditation to take a journey back in
time. I thought they were there, though I was not positive. The days
when chaos ruled and darkness stole hours away, I can guarantee
nothing about those days. What I was looking for could be long gone
in the ashes of some cathartic experience I was seeking.

But
they weren’t. Nestled at the very bottom of a box I keep on a high
shelf was his little black book. He kept this little book with him at
all times. It essentially became more important than his wallet,
cards stashed in the back pocket, secretly tucked away.

This
book did not hold the details of many women’s phone numbers, no it
was worse. This black book contained both bible verses, scriptures of
truth…scribbled just pages ahead of account numbers, social
securities numbers, and credit card information of family and
friends. Those who were victims of his theft, victims of his
sickness. Cryptically written were numbers and letters scrolled
across the pages so…had you not known what to look for…you
probably would have thought little of it.

And
then, tucked in the center, between pages holding secrets were our
vows. Two other little pieces of paper holding lies and secrets of
their own demented variety.

I
unfolded them, consciously forcing myself to breathe deeply and
slowly. “I am no longer in danger. I am secure. This is not real
life any longer.”

There
I read our lies. 

The words we spoke aloud in front of family and
friends. And the words we did not dare say aloud or even acknowledge
to our aching hearts.

“I
am lying to you. I cannot take care of you. I am scared shitless. I
cannot even take care of myself.”

“I
am go to try like hell to fix you. It means I actually have some
control in this life and some worth. I can make this better.”

We
smiled. The day was absolutely beautiful, but—oh!—the dreadful
demons that were present for that day. If only we had seen the
spiritual beings we invited into that marriage. It would have looked
more like a scene out of hell than the lovely “Knot wedding” it
surfacely appeared to be.

Grace
is that in that moment I was not swept away.

I
folded the papers back up, considered throwing them away, they are
only reminders of painful memories I argued.

But I
didn’t. I placed them back in the bottom of the box and placed
everything else back on top, hiding away the evidence of crimes past
committed. And as I returned to my nook, my place of prayer and
meditation, I read:

“[Lord please,] Touch every broken
and wounded place with Your healing hand.

Lord, empower me to forgive those
who have let me down, failed to protect me, or inflicted injury upon
me. Help me to see them as needy, broken people in their own right,
and Lord…Help me to understand the gravity of this juncture: that
if I do not seek healing and wholeness, I will instead end up
perpetuating the cycle of injury. Break the cycle with me, O Lord.
Break the cycle with me.”

And
there I stayed.

Asking
for forgiveness in so many ways. And freedom from so many lies.

These
are the things we do not want to speak about.

Our
insecurities. The lies we believe. The ones we allow to crawl into
bed with us at night and rock us to sleep despite the nightmares they
will create both while sleeping and waking.

Insecurity
is, succinctly defined by BM as, “self-sabotage.”

And,
boy, has she nailed it.

We are (in part) responsible for our own sabotage when we live in insecurity. I am not discrediting the things that happen to us completely out of our control [hear me say that!]. We do, however, still play a role. (More on that later.)

Whether
by nature, lies believed, circumstances handed you, or a combination
of all of the above, insecurity will sabotage your life. It
guarantees that you will not fully blossom. You cut the life intended
for you short, handicapping your potential. 

Oh,
for you and I to see the intricate print of God’s finger on who we
are, to know fully and completely how absolutely adored we are. To
let go of our pride and the sneaky self-absorption that can sometimes
look like humility but actually wreaks of perfectionism and fear.

God
never tires of you. He wants you! Yes…He wants you!

He
will not abandon or reject you even in the most transparent honesty
of your ugliness.

Bring
it to Him today. He is so excited and anticipating you finding the
end of yourself!

(Also…pick up a copy of BM’s book So Long Insecurity.
No need to thank me. Just go live
and be you! Nestled and grounded in the truth that HE HAS
MADE YOU MORE THAN ENOUGH. And
that is more than
enough.)

“The beauty of Paul wasn’t his superhumanity but his unwillingness to let his weaknesses, feelings, and fear override his faith. Like us, the fiercest enemy he had to fight in the fulfillment of his destiny was himself.”

{Beth Moore}

Fight on, warriors.