I met somebody who I’ve followed on instagram for the past two years. We met for breakfast at my favourite coffee shop and we talked life. We talked about our dreams and our fears. The stories we keep hidden and our favourite Instagramers. We talked about the tidbits of wisdom that we have gathered over the years.
I have been at this for two long years now and I feel like I am finally finding my voice. I am finally finding this voice that I feel has been trapped inside of me for so long. Someone I look up to in the blogging world once said to me “keep showing up.” There is something incredibly powerful about those three words. Keep showing up. I want to show up. Everyday. To this blog. To my friends. To my life. I’m human and I know i’ll mess up, I won’t always be present but I’m going to try. I’m going to show up.
She looked at me and said I was bold.
I immediately began to list the reasons I am not bold.
I’m an introvert.
I’m not bold.
I get scared of talking with people.
I’m not bold.
I let those lies wash over me instead of the Father’s voice. I let the world’s voice in instead of Jesus’s voice.
This morning, I was sent a spoken word about being bold. I’ve decided. I’m reclaiming my identity as a daughter of the king. I am reclaiming my identity as one who is loved. I am reclaiming my identity as bold. I am reclaiming my identity as one who is being pursued by the Father.
Being bold is scary. It’s nerve racking and it’s not what culture says to do. You will stand out when you begin to be bold.
But did Jesus ever just blend in with the crowds? Did he ever hide because he was scared of what people might think? He started raising the dead. He started healing the sick. He started the movement, the love movement. People began to believe because Jesus was bold. He loved with passion and he taught with grace.
For me, this blog is a way of being bold. I pour out my heart, the messiness of it all and I press publish. It’s my way of reaching out. Of reaching out to those who need to be met with His Love.
Jesus met me in Mexico. I knew Jesus, but know I know Jesus. He met me there. He looked past the brokenness. Past the shame. And he loved me. He loves me. He changed my life, and he’s ready to change yours. I can’t remember if I ever shared this on my blog, but I did share it on my instagram. It’s something I wrote in Social work class because I couldn’t get it off my mind. Real life.
I call it invited.
He holds out his hand, I stand there broken and shamed. My hands are not clean, to even think about taking his. I know I’ve been seen, my brokenness and despair. He molds me. Holds me. My dirtiness and sin. He looks past that and into my eyes. He removes the chains, the walls I’ve put up. I love you. I love you. I love you. He repeats over and over. It’s all I can do, from running away. To take the chance and grasp his hand. I take the chance, dirty into clean. He doesn’t look at the dirt stained hands, but rather into my tear rained eyes. I love you. He repeats over and over. My whole body is trembling. He is removing the ties. I look into his eyes, I can’t look away. I see the pain he has endured, but also the love he has. And I know. I know that I have been given an invitation. I have been invited.
So here ya go. Jesus is more full of love then anybody that you will ever meet and he is so ready to pour it out all over us.
Thanks for reading, it’s been rad.
Bear hugs + His blessings,