weaponizing success

Growing up, I had a lot of "friend" problems.

Particularly in first and second grade, I was bullied pretty badly. Nothing physical, but I was incredibly affected by the cattiness of other girls, being left out, and just general unkindness.

When I was little, all I wanted to do was something BIG-- I still have my diary from when I first learned how to spell, and I made lists of all of the great things I wanted to do. When it was welcomed, my personality was big. I wanted to be a dancer singer actor artist writer famous person.

When I think back sometimes to that first grade me, it's almost as though I'm thinking of a sister or a daughter, and not me. I think about the words that were spoken, and how I cried and cried before my mom would drop me off for school-- and I would imagine, all the time, when I was on TV when I got famous (inevitably), and I would name the names of the girls who were mean to me...and I would tell them that I forgave them.

I'm not sure how much of this fantasy was me wanting to expose people who acted unkindly, and how much was me wanting to forgive...probably depended on the day of the week.

Regardless-- weaponizing success. Let's talk about it.

What is driving your desire for success? Do you feel like you need to prove something? Is it to reclaim something?

Or, is it simply because you are good, powerful, worthy, endlessly capable, and loved by the King?

We have got to check ourselves so that we are not moving out of a place of seeking attention or to prove something. We don't need to play the role of the confident woman who acts aloof and wears high heels and doesn't give a crap. Because guess what?

If that's how you act, then you’re still under the control of your ex. You’re under control of the girls or boys who bullied you in first grade. You’re under the control of a parent who never stewarded your worth.

And you know what?

I’m so, so sorry that you were not always treated with the dignity that you are owed. You are good. I'm sorry that you were not told that you have a place that you don't have to fight for. I'm sorry that you were not told that you were seen, known, and loved from the beginning. I'm sorry that you were in the relationship where you were not served selflessly.

Christine Caine has this great line about how she was abused for fourteen years of her life...and then free for over thirty (at the time of the talk). She says she could be stuck in bondage, or propelled in the freedom. She could be stuck in those fourteen years of what happened, or testify to the freedom and growth of everything after. The abuse or pain or whatever doesn't have to be forgotten; but it shouldn't get to take center stage.

I don't want my life to declare the works of the enemy. I want my life to declare the works of King Jesus.

I’m all about using our hurt as a platform for glory. There’s redemption and restoration in every single area of woundedness. But do it for freedom. Do it for the more you have, do it for the more that’s coming for you. Not to strive, not to prove--

You have nothing to prove anymore. You don’t have to disprove any lie that’s ever been told about you; it’s already been disproved on the cross, where Jesus infinitely declared your worth with blood and nails. 

I get it. Sometimes, even now, I think about things that happened fifteen years ago, and I see how I was unjustly treated, and it’s this I AM WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR, YOU COULDN’T HOLD ME BACK attitude.

But that, more often than not, comes from a place of bitterness, and propels me into striving.

I’ve experienced a significant amount of rejection and being excluded in my life, and there are a few people in particular who have really hurt me...and, being totally real-- part of me sometimes hopes they look at my Instagram or something every once and while, and see how happy and good and fun I am, and maybe even feel badly about how they treated me.

That’s a human desire, but the instant I let my brain settle there, or start to act on those desires in some way, I’m not walking in freedom. I’m not walking in forgiveness. Which means I’m still in captivity.

Here’s the deal: maybe your “old self” doesn’t need your hard ass vengence. 

Maybe your old self? Actually just needs you to go sit and feel. Go sit and maybe cry.

Go back to the little girl who was told she didn’t have a place on the playground, or was played by the “good guy” who was a year older than her. 

Grieve what’s been lost, greive what maybe was never there. Stay soft and stay feeling. And keep going. 

My senior year of college, I was super frustrated because I applied for a number of positions at my school I didn’t get, despite my qualifications. I was hurt and confused, and my brain was running at a million miles an hour trying to figure out what was wrong with me and not be bitter at the people who made the decisions.

I remember one day, it all just hit me: these were the rejections fifty and sixty-year-olds still carry. Like Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite, they’re always talking about the game they should have won, and how it was everyone else’s fault they didn’t.

And I refuse to carry the pain of rejection in my life, in my heart. I refuse to take it into my marriage and I refuse to let it influence the way I love my children.

I realized I needed to stop letting these thoughts of inadequacy and bitterness swirl, but to take them to the King, and move on.

To walk in that kind of healing doesn’t require suppression; it requires letting the hurt all come out, letting it sit right in front of you. Don’t say, “What was wrong with you?” to yourself, don’t beat yourself up. Even as you acknowledge what may have been your fault, you don’t need to justify someone’s mistreatment of you.

Just feel it.

And then see where Jesus was in it. See where He was on the swingset, or next to you when you never got the text back. Claim the truth He was speaking over you in the moment, the truth you might have missed:

You are good.

I have good plans for you.

You’re not alone.

There is more.

Just wait, my love.

I’m not leaving.

I don’t care who knows my name, or sees what I do. I don’t need a closure moment, because I don’t chase closure; I simply surrender to the Savior who heals. I don’t need to prove to a bunch of girls from first grade I’m worthy--

What I do need, though, is to claim my worth for one girl from first grade.

Me.

I’m telling you-- go back and claim your worth. Wherever you denied it. Wherever it was stolen or not uphelded. Don’t minimize it, like it was this thing that didn’t matter. Don’t live in it, like your whole identity is in how you were mistreated. Simplify it: you are worthy, and you’ve always been, and there’s nothing to prove.

Be at peace. And keep kicking butt. Your Father has been fighting your battles all along; lay those weapons down and be at peace.