It happened years ago, so poignant I remember where I was driving–turning east, a corner from my house when it hit me.
And it is enough.
Oh sure, there have been times it doesn’t feel like enough. Times I’ve stomped my childish size eleven and questioned. Times I’ve looked elsewhere for affirmation.
But this new paradigm, that HIS love was enough to survive–even thrive–on this planet, stayed with me. It carried me. Healed me.
And yet here I sit, years later, blogging about it to remind myself.
I need this truth.
A few nights ago, determined to get words onto a screen I typed a vulnerable post about my struggle to write. A friend’s comment grounded me, and I remembered my Audience of One.
Then Paul said, “You are not simply a writer. Not simply a mother. Not simply anything. Not even simply Paula. You are a unique, complex, multi-layered loved and loving individual. You need do nothing to carry on being that unique treasure. You are that unique treasure. You are surrounded by love . . . Always. When the writing flow flows, then the writing flow flows. You will always be you. You are always you.”
The first time I read over his words I didn’t get it. So I prayed. Read again more slowly. Asked God what tugged at my heart.
It was love.
Yes, much of my struggle to write has simply been empty nest grief and transitions. It was okay to give myself some space as I worked into this new season of my life. But beneath all that something else sneaked in, hampering my forward momentum.
Now that the schedule is opening so I can more fully pursue my dreams, the pressure has been subtly building, the pressure that said I must perform. And how.
When I NEED to perform, fear slips in that I can’t. Memories of disappointment and rejection hint at failure.
Paul’s words reminded me that I am me. Whether or not I write. Whether or not I perform. None of that affects the core.
Because of Love.
I am loved by the King of the universe.
Nothing can take that away.
Nothing can separate me from His love.
It is enough.
And strangely enough knowing this sets me free to be productive.
It’s a grand paradox. Letting go of the need to perform, stepping back onto the bedrock of love, I am secure enough that I embrace the desire to perform again. It is no longer threatening because it does not define me.
I am defined by love.
Love is my bedrock.
How about you? What defines you? Where is your bedrock?
Until next time,
Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture:
They kill us in cold blood because they hate you.
We’re sitting ducks; they pick us off one by one.
None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us. (Romans 8, The Message)