I was not the best version of myself at all. There was still a lot to work on personally. And yet, there I was, living what I can only see now as a dream state. Part, but not all of, my dream even. Places I wanted to be, surrounded by the kindest people. In environments conducive towards igniting imagination and taking on great challenges.
It was other people’s dream states in fact. I was living other people’s dreams and taking it for granted. Because maybe I am right, maybe I was doing nothing I was meant to do which was leading me to destructive behaviors, which was killing me.
I was the worst version of myself.
Yet I was wanted and sought after.
Because now I am the best version of myself. I am the healthiest I have ever been. I am the closest to God’s heart I’ve ever been. I am more focused with incredibly productive daily rituals which allow me to be at my peak to take on all the projects in my life.
I’ve allowed my creative self to breathe life again. Fear is stripping itself not away but in lower quantities. Action steps are in place when I am confronted with fear. And I know now when my heart glows while doing something, TO DO MORE OF IT. Pretty simple but often neglected life-hack. But it is all coming together as I shed the roughest edges of myself. Putting on passions I’ve always had but just needed focused and refined.
I am the best version of myself.
Yet I am not wanted and overlooked.
Wait. But what if there was always only one Person who wanted me.
In Jesus, there is no paradox because no matter if I am out of place, no matter if I am not myself, no matter if the world wants me or no one wants me, Jesus wants exactly me. Exactly who I am.
Behold, another paradox
Emerged out of the depths:
“When you were dead,
You were in possession of all the
Tools to enhance life.
Now that you are alive,
You possess nothing at all,
Except life, life abundant.”
Things change for me in September. Always have.
I even changed from not being born to existing all of a sudden.
And there have been several rebirths of mine in other Septembers. Killed off. Born again. Killed off. Born again.
And in birth, I find there is more pain than in the death. There is always pain.
But afterwords, there is life. There is always life.
I think we misinterpret when we talk about reinventing ourselves.
Maybe I’m hinting at the misunderstanding of the object of our reinvention.
We can change circumstances, settings, even outward expressions. But to reinvent who we are? No, it’s not something we can do. And I’d highly advise against such an impossible task.
The reinvention we want? It doesn’t come when we switch our job or our spouse or our friends. It doesn’t come when we change our hairstyle or our wardrobe or the way we interact with others. Reinvention occurs not to turn us into some better version of ourselves.
It happens when we finally realize our identity.
To get to this change we must thoroughly filter stories we tell and internalize about ourselves. What we allow into our core is what we will believe.
Reinvention comes when we begin accepting affirmations others speak about us after years of bashful deflection. Change also starts when we shed tears about the pains which are realities deep inside us.
After proper filtering and sharing we find ourselves ‘reinventing’ the way we are because, day by day, we embrace who we are.
You don’t just remove the
Crow of the rooster in the morning,
The crisp biting air,
Nor the sense of freedom.
This is lodged in you,
As it should with any person
Who’s come to their senses,
As the senses call you back.
It was your ghost,
And it told you:
Before you died,
You were Loved.
So live your death out
Like you are Loved.
Nowhere places have set their best lures,
Persuading a perpetual chase after illusion.
Why conjure for emotions of yesterday,
Steeping inside the exact same spell?
From this, inadequacy overwhelms The Present,
The Right Now,
The Very Next Breath,
Even though The Present provides abundant Life.
Yesterday sits disgraced,
Mired thick with pursuit.
Your identity was lost,
But given back tenfold.
When you died (or slipped into coma),
You held onto too much of the Liar’s life.
The Suffering Servant King took notice,
And, for you, went lower still.
Tell your story, don’t tell someone else’s.
Don’t believe a story someone else gave you about yourself.
Live your story fully.