Voices of Truth

It starts so young.

If you were to think back to the first time someone discouraged you, to re-form the first memory you have of someone telling you that you weren't enough, you wouldn't have to dig very hard in your mind. Hey, maybe it's not hard to dig up at all, because it is attached to many subsequent memories where other voices spoke and reaffirmed this discouragement over you... some voices who purposely meant to tear you down, and some voices who had no idea that their words were ripping open a deep wound in your heart.

Could you do the same thing with your first memory of someone encouraging you?
Does it take longer?

I only ask because for myself, now "adult" by definition, I still hear clearly the voices of discouragement in my head... the voices that I heard when I was young.
They are not merely voices of schoolyard taunts... and while those exist, they are not so loud as the words spoken by voices of adults in my life growing up. Voices of teachers and church leaders and parents and whoever else had significant influence in my life... and somehow my capacity to retain the negative is pretty great.

I get that I was not an easy child. I know for anyone who had to teach or lead me in any capacity that I could be fairly unruly. I sought attention. I was loud and distracting.

I wasn't trying to be those things.
Truly, I was lost. I was lonely. I was desperate. I was acting out of unmet needs.

And I am not saying it is the responsibility of anyone to have filled those, and I am fortunate enough to have grown up in a home where I was loved, and where I was given the precious gift of seeing a relationship with Christ modeled.

I say this only because in my life, my acceptance of these lies from years ago has not been dealt with, and it's preventing me from moving forward into the fullness and freedom of what God has for me. Bigger than that, it is starting to sink in that I can't change what was said to me, but I can let it change how I speak to others.

Especially kids.
I volunteer in sunday school at my church, and to put it nicely, it is not an easy job. It's like a room full of little Jessicas. Loud. Crazy. Slightly unruly.
It's hard, and sometimes my nerves get stretched like a bungee cord... but when I step back and remember that I was just like them, and I realize that I have no idea what circumstances they are coming from and what needs in them that haven't been met, I am suddenly a thousand times more conscious of what is coming out of my mouth.

Because I don't want to be a voice of discouragement that they still remember when they are 21.
I want them to have felt loved for the time that I got to spend with them. I want to encourage them and celebrate the little things and have their respect, without speaking rashly when things get a little too nuts in there.

We have the amazing ability to speak truth and grace and love into people's lives. We can be the voice of encouragement that sticks out in a child's mind 20 years from now, just by cheering for them. We can help shape and mold the kids that will become leaders and shapers and encouragers... heck, we can do this with people older than us too!

I have torn down people's identities with harsh words and rash reactions... but my prayer is that God would empower and enable me (and all of us!) with His Holy Spirit to stamp out lies and bring freedom from those voices.

It all points back to the cross. Jesus showed us how much people are worth to Him when He died on the cross. He would have done it for one... but He did it for all.  Father God.... show us Your heart for people, so that we may love them with Your love where our love ceases to extend, and so that Your life-giving truth would be spoken with our voices.

The Father heart

I was listening to a song by Casting Crowns today entitled Who Am I. It's somewhat ironic because I feel like I ask myself that question on a daily basis. Here I am, just like every other twenty-something year old, wondering about my purpose, about what I am created to do... who am I?

Tonight, as the song played, this line fell on my heart and settled there.
"You told me who I am,
I am yours."

It is so beautifully simple.

I belong to the Most High God. I am His daughter. I am His beloved. I am His created. I am His.
What else really matters?

When I focus on who I am (or rather, who I think I should be), I became entangled in pursuits and achievements and successes, all set by someone else's standard. I become discouraged, because I try so hard to be someone that it is not natural for me to be based on snippets of other people I admire (and fail.)

When I lock eyes with my heavenly Father, He unleashes the fullness of His dad love for me. He tells me I am beautiful. He tells me He is proud of me. He tells me He delights in me. He tells me that I am loved. My identity is breathed by the words of my heavenly dad... and when I accept these truths, I know who I am. I am not a modge-podge of people I admire... I am fearfully and wonderfully made, uniquely and intricately poured into by my Father in a way that no one else can replicate. I am freed to be as He created me to be.

Pastor Daniel Zopoula spoke on father`s day about the important role a father plays in us knowing who we are... and, in his awesome Daniel way, he used the Lion King to drive the message home.

"Anyone who listens to the word, but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at his face, goes away and forgets what He looks like"

James 1:23-24

We need our Father to remind us who we are, because we are so prone to forgetting!

"I already know Him, because I know you."

It is awesome that we, freed to love and dream and serve out of knowing we are loved, live lives that point to our Father. People can encounter the Father heart of God by us living out of the love we have received.
Dad's are such a big deal.

When I was growing up, people always told me I look like my dad. I never realized what a profound compliment that was. My heart's desire to embrace who I am in Christ, that other's may see my Father in me.

It's funny too, as I read through the Bible you often read "So and so, son of [insert fathers name here]" and that is how they are identified... they are introduced as sons, tied to the name of their Father. That is weighty!
Can you imagine the declaration we would be making if we did this with our heavenly father?
"Hi, I'm Jessica, daughter of God. Nice to meet you!"

I think that's what it might take for some of us to really start to embrace our identities as princes and princesses.

Daddy love is tender. If you see dad's with their kids, you see grown men turned to gush. Manly men who will drink imaginary tea with pinky out and wear nail polish and trade in their harley for a minivan because they love that much/

How much moreso God for us?
He told us who we are, in fact, He gave His only son to bring us all under His roof!
WE ARE HIS.