I want to write this blog more like a journal entry, as lately I’ve been donning masks of pride and insecurity. I pray whatever I write brings Him glory and draws you, reader, closer to Him.
I first became cognizant of my constant striving for approval and accolades from others in high school, when it became obvious through my battle with anxiety and depression that I had built my self-confidence, security, purpose, and identity on the shifting sand of being seen as the “perfect little Christian girl” who had everything together and was available at all hours of day and night to rescue others in their distresses. I’d put my faith in Jesus at age four, then proceeded to strive to be worthy of His sacrifice and to seek a flawless reputation in the eyes of others.
When I had a very mixed up and shallow understanding of the Gospel and grace, God in His mercy brought me to my first realization of my own need through that initial battle with depression in high school. When that battle was won over those particular symptoms of my misunderstanding of God and myself, I believed the war was over and that I was good now-- I was more compassionate to myself and others and could begin living without the burden of perfectionism.
But the war wasn’t over. Depression and anxiety came back even stronger mid-college, this time triggered by traumatic events and physical illness. I was drawn closer to Him than I’d ever been, there in my deepest need and utter helplessness. Recovery after that battle was a long journey and another story of God’s gracious mercy and tender love.
Now here I am in Mexico City, a college graduate with two semester-long mission experiences and a year of remote ministry during COVID under my belt, and still ever tending to build my hope on the approval of others, on my performance, and on the praise of my own good works accomplished in my own strength.
I think the most recent battle began with the insecurity I felt being put in a position of leadership as a facilitator for the summer Avance program of 11 young people who joined us in June. I had just gone through culture shock and homesickness, and when they arrived was still living in sheer terror of taking public transportation by myself, yet expected to help train and orient these “newbies” to life in Mexico City. Instead of recognizing my need, my lack of trust in the Father for even my own safety and well-being, and turning to Him for refuge, strength, and guidance, I dressed myself for battle against my insecurity with the mask of performing as a perfect, helpful, wonderful, delightful, fun, encouraging, supportive, knowledgeable, always kind, always available, always calm, cool, and collected “friendly neighborhood facilitator” (as one of our staff named us) for the new participants.
Needless to say, this was a recipe for burnout. I was constantly exhausted in every possible way and felt that no amount of sleep, sabbaths, or better rhythms of time in the Word helped. The first weekend of July our team went on a retreat to a gorgeous retreat home just south of Mexico City. Most of the time was free for rest, recreation, and reflection, but there was just one fifteen-minute talk on the Prodigal Son and his brother, whose hearts were both disconnected from their Father’s (Luke 15:11-32). We had times of worship and an opportunity to pray with a Spirit-filled fellow missionary woman. I was convicted-- my heart had been so disconnected from my Father’s. I realized, and by God’s grace through the realization turned from self-reliance and striving and took off the mask. I rested, journaled and confessed, visited with others, prayed, slept a lot, ate, and swam-- and I felt joy again. The Father reconnected my heart to His.
Arriving home from the retreat I got the worst migraine I’ve had in years and the first I’ve ever had with nausea. I learned this is a typical response to release of tension after a time of intense stress. I felt so sick and awful, frustrated and exhausted, it seemed like all that had occurred that weekend was in vain-- I was back where I’d started. But that wasn’t true. The Lord has reminded me continually that I can do nothing apart from Him (John 15:4-5) and that I am giving no gift to those I’m serving if I am inauthentic-- they need Jesus’ sufficiency, not mine. I feel like I can go on now, like I can actually rest.
The war is not over; it’s an ongoing journey. It's a war against my flesh’s prideful desire for praise and independence. I have the tendency to turn even dependence on God into a task, something to do right in order to “arrive” and have things sorted. But the real goal of living in dependence and need for Christ is not correctness, sound doctrine or becoming a model Christian, as I so readily perceive it. The true fruit is intimacy and friendship with Him, living as His daughter. If I arrived now, what need would I have for Christ and the Gospel in my daily life? What glory would it bring Him? What joy in my salvation? So I rejoice and give thanks for this battle won and pray to be reminded of my vulnerability to slipping back into dependence on the shifting foundation of independence. The war is far from over, but the winning is resting in Him.
Do this work in me, Father, through your Spirit, because of Jesus, who has made me right and acceptable before You through His perfect work!
But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 3:7-14, ESV