Her

I imagine her life, all exciting and dynamic. New opportunities abound...she's sought after, brilliant, moving and shaking up the world that's waiting on her doorstep each day. She get's 500,000 blog hits, maybe more like a million! Everyday she gets up knowing her deep value and worth. She brings it again and again and not once does she falter. She is tenacious and never let's defeat get her down. She faces the giants, again and again.

She is an illusion.

She is made up in my mind.

She taunts me daily.

She steals my joy.

She, my somewhere-out-there blog savvy, family friendly, object of perfection.

If I could just get to where she is then ____________.

And I know I am not alone.

Whomever I've given that exalted place of having "arrived" becomes the object to which I measure myself.  I am drawn by her words, they are beautiful and eloquent and true. They are lovely.

But the slithery and stealth Seducer twists and tangles them, corrupting the beauty being offered and enslaving my soul. What have you done? Look what she's doing with her life...You will never be enough. Why try?

The words that are meant to offer l i f e--the beauty that has been hard won and birthed in the deep dark-- now get all jumbly and twisty within me, comparison has set in, corrupting and corroding the heart receptacle and I miss the offering. I miss the piece that is for me and now try to become her.

And in just a few nanoseconds, I subtly begin to tuck away the dream, the risk, the little step of faith, the creativity and rather comatose quietly resolve to do the life-sucking thing because Oh yea, I forgot, I'll never be enough. There's nothing really special in me that hasn't already been done a million times better than I ever could so why try? And here I am again, picking the safe bets, the measurable things, the path of least resistance.

She slithers away, for she is no longer needed. I've agreed. I've gone along. All is safe once again. I'm a little more anesthetized to my life and a bit more withdrawn from my purpose.

But....

I am beginning to dismantle her.

We are....

In little holy huddles here and there, we are beginning to dismantle her.

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We are starting to talk more about it: the toxicity of comparison. We're gathering in coffee shops, churches, over the phone or Skype, in conference rooms, in counseling offices.  

Our generation more than any other in history is bombarded by a woman who doesn't exist. We are living in a cyber-reality that every day offers us a little bit of l i f e but a whole lot of temptation.

How do I reap the benefit of the beauty being offered through blogs, Pinterest, magazines, and Instagram without desecrating my soul?

How do I engage culture and my present reality while not losing myself to something "out there" and miss what's "right here"?

How do I live the beauty of Christ's life within me, going forth through me, if I'm consumed with being someone else?

What if someone else's obedience is not my obedience and I'm spinning my wheels being her and not doing the risky, vulnerable work of learning what it means to be me?

a million little ways by emily p. freeman *

What if the hidden things are THE things?

What if offline is really what keeps our hearts online?

Is that enough?

Will. I. Let. That. Be. Enough.?

Will I believe, this day, I am enough. Period. End. Of. Story.


* A friend and I have started intentionally talking through some of these questions together. To jolt our conversation we are reading A Million Little Ways by Emily P. Freeman. Join us!