A funny thing happens when you feel called to pour out your heart and soul, raw and unfiltered, on paper and offer it up as a broken prayer to an equally fragile world. You feel brave and courageous. On a mission and absolutely determined to hit the target, no matter the cost. The euphoria that comes from actually accomplishing something you never thought possible is admittedly rather intoxicating, but it’s the sweet satisfaction of having been obedient to a greater call that truly swells the heart.
But then, as quickly as that wave of boldness builds, it subsides, and a fear starts to bubble. It’s here that you realize that you’re just slightly terrified of what lies ahead. Hopeful, yes. But wildly vulnerable.
Vulnerable and completely exposed.
Nothing to hide. And nothing to hide behind.
What if they hate it? What if you’re made to look like a fool? What if your writing style really is best left on a blog? And what if the subject truly is so uncomfortable that people react negatively without even opening the book? What if those who are deeply touched by it speak more softly than those yellers whose wounds are inadvertently prodded in the process? And what if, out of their woundedness, they judge your motives and assassinate your character in public? What if?
What if?
When the tender underbelly of your messy world is exposed to an often critical cross-section of humanity, it’s easy to want to recoil and hide. To take back your bold proclamation and head for the hills. Maybe because deep down one knows the opposition waits in the wings, ready to pounce, eager to dissect and distract. But mostly because in that painfully uncomfortable moment of silence – the space in-between the act of offering and the anticipated response – that you’re forced to confront a lingering sense of insecurity. The aching to know you’ve done well. That your words have weight and significance, and that the target you set out to hit, has been reached.
There’s an intrinsic desire nestled into the human spirit that longs to know that the world’s a little brighter for their having been in it. That life has been spoken, and that lives were touched by their willingness to strip back the curtain and let others in.
To hear a resounding “yes” to the heart’s cry, “does what I bring to this world really matter?”.
But when the longing to have impact crosses the line into an unsettling ache for human approval, it gets complicated. Not messy, for it has always been messy. But complicated.
And it’s in these times of wavering bravery that I’m driven to my knees and drawn to examine my roots. To unearth and uproot the areas of my heart that draw from the wrong source, those places that require a fuel I was never created to burn.
It’s called approval addiction. And it’s an incredibly dangerous position to assume.
Just like plants require sunlight and water to grow and thrive, there are several things we all need to grow and thrive: love, security and a sense of belonging to something greater. Sure, we can breathe without them, but we won’t really live, and we certainly won’t thrive.
And here’s the interesting thing about the root systems beneath those plants: what they cling to, feeds them. And what feeds them, will either sustain them, or destroy them.
So choose wisely what, or who, you cling to.
We were created to live for an audience of One, to bring glory to that One. The unique art you bring to this masterpiece of life, wild and messy, will surely bless many, honor many, and please many, yes…but all as a natural by-product of fleshing out a life of blessing, honoring and pleasing of that One who created you. That is the only approval we need, and it’s the only approval that truly matters when our last breath has been drawn.
The best part is, we’ve already been approved. And approved of.
It’s a done deal.
Every year on my birthday I ask God for a word for the year ahead. Last year my word was “intimacy”. I ‘hrumph’d’ somewhat and wasn’t too thrilled, as I knew what it required of me. Pressing in, abandonment, laying-down-of-self. Greater commitment, greater discipline. Stillness. And while it’s hard to admit, it’s easy to get spiritually lazy and simply go through the motions. But intimacy – and the cultivation and pursuit of it – requires work.
Intimacy is representative of the inner life, the root system if you will, and everything else we think and do flows out of it. Without intimacy and a deep, secure foundation, everything else withers and fades.
I hadn’t made the connection until last week that maybe my word for the year had a little something to do with a little book I wrote. Go figure.
So the day before my birthday, two weeks ago, when I was asking God about my new word for this upcoming year, the first negative review of my book was posted on Amazon. At first I laughed because it seemed so ridiculously off-base, but as I read and reread the piercing accusation of my apparent pride and arrogance, my heart broke. This person had not even read the book. They’d simply decided that the ‘marketing material’ I’d wrapped the book in to avoid damage in shipping was too much. They were blinded by my ‘self-centeredness’. Oh friends, it wrecked me. It was absolutely ridiculous how a few unkind words, brazenly shot out in a moment of apparent anonymity, threw me off course and stole my joy. Knowing it was ‘friendly fire’ only made it harder to swallow.
Now let me just put it out there, in case you haven’t already picked it up…I’m totally a ‘words of affirmation’ person when it comes to the 5 love languages. Words matter greatly to me. Encouragement and affirmation are like a direct deposit of oxygen to me, and they have a profound impact on the way I see life. But because of the enormous weight they carry, harsh and careless words cut me deeply.
As I poured out my heart to my hubby in a disheartened, snotty mess, God sunk my new word into my spirit. Rooted. This year is going to be all about getting rooted and established in who I am in Him. Only Him.
I tend to function like a fibrous root system, gaining much of my nutrition and fuel from outside sources. Give me accolades and praise, and my little sprout with shoot for the sky. Don’t? And I’ll wither. But this, sweet friends, is not how we’re supposed to function. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.
We’re designed rather to be securely embedded, deeply entrenched in our God-born identity, drawing all we need from our primary tap root. It’s big and strong and hearty and stable. This root will not fail us. Not now, not ever.
Because He is the One who fuels our hopes and our dreams, and our crazy brave adventures, and He is the anchor for our souls.
Will the negative feedback continue? Absolutely! Will the attack on my motives and character come? Surely. Will my little fibrous root system get obliterated in the process? Most likely.
And will I cling to my sturdy tap root like never before? You bet I will.
I knew what I was doing when I stepped out onto this battlefield, terrified as I was. And I knew there would be casualties. But if, in the onslaught, my pride is destroyed and all the foolish places I’ve gleaned my value shaken, firmly securing my identity in Him, then bring.it.on.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about fear and taking risks, it’s this: do it anyway. Never let fear of the unknown, or of the possible opposition, keep you from stepping out in faith. Obedience is always the best move, even if you’re petrified of what lies ahead. For there’s no better place to be than in the palm of the Father’s hand.
Rooted and established in His love.
“And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God” Ephesians 3:17b-19
A friend sent me this quote from Mark Batterson a few days ago, and it came at just the right time. It so beautifully describes the cry of my heart…
“I have a handful of prayers that I pray all the time…One is that God will put my books into the right hands at the right times….The right book in the right hands at the right time can save a marriage, avert a mistake, demand a decision, plant a seed, conceive a dream, solve a problem, and prompt a prayer. That is why I write. And that’s why, for me, a book sold is not a book sold; a book sold is a prayer answered. I don’t know the name and situation of every reader, but God does, and that’s all that matters.”
~ Mark Batterson, Draw the Circle: The 40 Day Prayer Challenge
So this week’s free printable is inspired by what God’s been doing in my heart. Uprooting that fibrous root of approval addiction and calling me to a greater understanding of who I am in Him.
It’s a reminder to allow our roots to grow strong and deep in the nutrient-rich soil of His love for us. His grace. His plan. His purpose. His approval of who He created us to be.
And what He says about us is all that matters.
May we would be rooted and established in that knowledge…secure, unshakable, and flowing with life.
Anchored; our heart to His.
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