shine bright like a freakin' big ol' light

I recently hear Louie Giglio compare eternity to the dial tone that used to sound when you picked up a land line. 

There is a possibility that you have no idea what I’m talking about. Telephones used to be attached to walls, before they were attached to people’s hips, and when you picked up the phone you heard a dial tone signaling that the line was clear for you to dial to connect to the person you were trying to reach. Louie was comparing life on Earth to life eternity and just as the dial tone could go on and on and on and on…and on, the “bleep” sound of dialing a number was less than a second. That, he said, was life on Earth. 

Clearly, since you cannot hear what I am describing it is not going to have quite the same impact as his demonstration, but I imagine {hope} that you get the idea. Eternity is….eternity, forever, to infinity and beyond and, in comparison, life is a bleep on the radar. 

[Which is overwhelming and crazy and awesome and bizarre and a conversation for a different day.]

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It’s been asked of me why I share so openly about my life on this very public forum. Why I share my story, and allow strangers into the deepest parts of my soul, and invite friends and family to read intimate pages of what might as well be my inner little girl’s diary. 

And the answer is simple…life is short. 

Life is short and I want you to know. I want you to know, not the most intimate details of my story. No, I do not really want you to know what breaks my heart to it’s core, or the ways in which I’ve been humiliated, or the sheer ugliness of my humanness and brokenness. No. Absolutely not. This is not what I want you to know. 

But…

But if sharing how God was still there; how God is still here; how God who created the universe never left my side when I had helped dig myself into the darkest, deepest, most regret and pain-filled, hole that was so deep I could feel the core of the Earth beginning to sear my ass…that that God did not leave me. That he did not judge me or tell me to pull up my boot straps and get my shit together because I had really made a mess of things as He turned around and walked in the other direction after assessing the scope of my damage.

If sharing how nothing I ever did could have made me good enough, nothing I ever could do could make me be good enough, nothing could win me more love, could make me more righteous, or give me a “righter” status.

If sharing that I played a part in allowing atrocious acts to be committed against me, sharing that I  failed and failed hard. And that I committed what I considered–in my human, broken, wrong theology–to be the worst sin possible and God’s grace was still bigger and better and more triumphant than my shit.

If sharing any of that gets you one baby step closer to knowing the immense and incredible liberation and freedom found in Jesus Christ…then it’s all worth it. 

Then it’s absolutely completely worth it. 

Every tear-filled and painful black and white letter on the screen.

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I know, sometimes it’s scary. 

Ok…this is a space of honesty…it’s always damn terrifying to step out and get into the vulnerable, exposed, “putting yourself out there” space. It’s scary! It’s uncomfortable! It’s often awkward and always unpredictable. 

But that doesn’t make it bad. 

There is liberation in sharing your story. 

There is liberation in owning your story. 

Someone needs to hear your story. Speak up. Step out. Stop hiding.

Most importantly…stop hiding from yourself.

You need you. You need your love and your acceptance. Take off the mask. Put down the tools. It is okay. They will be there later. Breathe. There is grace. Breathe. There is love. Breathe. All of your laboring is in vain. You do not have to prove anything to anyone. Breathe. He loved YOU FIRST. You can’t earn it. You can’t make it go away. Breathe. 

You are adored. You are beautiful. You are treasured. You. Are. Free.

The peace that awaits your awakening to this truth…it is going to rock. your. world.

It’s time, beauties, to shine bright.