I was generally who you'd call a "good person." I was empathetic, decently kind, spent time volunteering, laughed, never gave good reason to be grounded, got good grades, and was probably who you'd call the "normal" kid. I grew up in a loving home with parents who cared. It was the storybook childhood ... well, at least it seemed that way to any outsider.
My life took place in a theater - me performer, those around me my audience. In true actress form, I had my audience captivated, believing in the lies that I put forward. But, behind the curtain, alone, the sole performer sitting in the green room, my world looked utterly different. It was dark and lonely. I'd spent so long being the strong one I didn't know how to show how I was truly feeling. You see, when I was twelve my family and I moved several states away from the home I had always known. I felt that I had to be the strong one, to keep face for my mom in order to make her not feel as guilty about moving us from our friends and our schools. Every day of being strong on the outside tore me down on the inside. In a matter of months I went from being a fairly happy pre-teen to one struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts. I hated my life, I felt alone - no one to confide in, no one to turn to - I no longer cared to care. I eventually told my mother, went to counselors and therapists, which did nothing but frustrate me. No matter how much I wanted to believe what the therapists told me were the causes of what I felt nor how much I worked on "things" within me, nothing changed the way I felt. Upon entering high school, my suicidal thoughts eventually turned their attentions to seeking value and fulfillment in male attentions. I wanted to be wanted, needed to be needed and was willing to allow myself to be walked over, blamed and abused. I wanted to please my boyfriends, to give them what they wanted. At first I had regard for my own wants, but as I was drawn further into the need to be needed and wanted, my willingness to sacrifice me for them reigned in my life.
My sister, meanwhile, had moved to college and accepted the Lord. I saw a change in her that I never would have expected. A once tense relationship between us began to change. I had always been the annoying little sister who had to do everything she did, yet the annoyed reactions began to cease and I sensed an excitement at my wanting to follow in her footsteps. She began to take me on sister outings when she was home for vacations, and, although I wasn't willing to make the change in my life right then, I began to have the desire to change.
When I moved to college my mind was set on following in her footsteps; I found a church I liked, joined a campus freshman bible study and had a few Christian friends. Yet I still held on the facade, looking at my audience from the stage, unwilling to shed the character that had become my identity. At this time I was still dating a guy that I had dated, been dumped by, and was now dating again. I thought I loved him; we talked marriage and family, he'd come up with a savings plan to be able to purchase a house shortly after we graduated college, and had looked at engagement rings. I led two lives, one life being my church going "self" and the other life my extremely dependent and impure relationship with this man.
But things began to change ... slowly ...
I began to become sick of the pregnancy scares, sick of being insincere in promise to God to change my lifestyle in exchange for not be pregnant and sick feeling guilty for the nature of our relationship. Then, beyond my imagination, this man ended our relationship. Astounded, but oddly contented with the break up, I still was not ready to turn my life around. For months I continued seeking the affections of men to satisfy my desire to feel valued, wanted, desired. Regardless of who I sought out or what I did, it never satisfied.
Then, one Sunday morning, I can't recall what the pastor said nor anything specific that prompted me, but I knew my life was no longer my own. I accepted the Lord that day and signed up to be baptized. I met with the pastor the next week, going over what it means to be baptized, and was excited to begin my new journey. I met fellow students in my architecture studio who were believers, I spent more time with a friend I'd met the first few days in the freshman dorms and spent more time in God's Word. I joined a new believer's Bible study and over the next year gradually learned to trust God with the true me. I came to grips with the depression that I'd struggled with and with time allowed Him to teach me through some of the worst moments. I began to see how much more desirable He was than the attentions of any man and learned through trials what it was like to hear His voice calling to me and directing me.
And you know what, throughout this journey that the Lord has placed before me, that actress, the one who convinced the audience of whatever she wanted them to believe, she is nowhere to be found. The ability to conceal the pain, to bottle it up and hide it where not even I could find it, no longer exists within me. There are times I sometimes wish I could muster up a little of that costume I once called home, but the Lord has blessed me abundantly through His transformation of that woman. She no longer lives within me, but it is Christ who dwells in me. I am a new creation, not a repurposed costume - transfigured and transformed - but one brand new, fashioned just for this story of truth and life.
I am Christ's beloved. He loves me, my pain, my past, my present, my future. He loves me when I choose to be near and loves me when I choose to be far. He loves me regardless. He loves me.
This new woman I am, this new creation ... is made in the image of God.
imago dei
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