a painful risk

“...and the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” –Anaïs Nin

"She stood there, leafy camouflage fallen away and bare bark exposed, reaching her arms into the darkness, unafraid. A reminder of the easy grace that comes from not hiding and the simple paradox that strength comes from mounting no defenses."
-Megan Lane

I am finding myself somewhere in between these two states of being… somewhere in between the painful risk of refusing to hide and the relief that comes from letting down the walls.

One of the things I have really been striving to do this summer is to honestly claim who I am in the exact place in which I am without making excuses or apologies. The time I have spent in isolation has brought about a lot of new perspective, but it has also brought a lot of personal issues to the surface that have been compressed and stifled for a long time, and I cannot pretend that the process of addressing them is not a painful one.

I want to be honest about the ways in which I have changed this summer, and part of that honestly involves a mutual understanding that pain is an ever-present factor in my life. I believe in a God who not only cultivates my pain and uses it for purpose, but who purposefully has me walk through pain for a purpose. But I will be honest about the fact that it’s not fun; it’s hard, and it’s raw, and it’s brutal, and I hate it.

I am committing to honesty in my life, to refusing to put on the “everything is great” exterior, because I want people to see that pain is a part of my story, that my pain points to the face of the Lord, Jesus Christ, that my pain is the reason why I am who I am, and that the Lord has done amazing things in my life through pain.

Part of this honesty that I feel I am being called to involves addressing the pain it takes to embrace myself. I have reached a point where it hurts more to hide than it does to openly claim myself for exactly who I am; yet, it still hurts to claim myself. It is a rocky journey, one that (in my life) can feel very positive and productive one day yet can also feel terribly shattering the next. One of the things I am learning is that a productive day for me isn’t always a positive one. Sometimes, what is most productive for me on any given day might involve great sadness, anger, and depression coupled with the time it takes to process through these emotions. But you see, I am free. I am not in bondage any more to these emotions. I am free because I am allowing myself to feel when I need to feel. I am allowing myself to come to terms with my human need to process anger constructively, my need dwell in sadness at times, and my need to channel the murky confusion of depression. Simply allowing ALL my emotions a place to run their course is a huge step for me; ceasing to patronize myself for feeling negativity has been a huge breakthrough for me.

Yet, there is fear in my heart. It is easy to find freedom in being who I am when I have lived practically alone in isolation for three months… but going back to Wheaton, a campus where everyone feels the need to love Jesus and smile more than the person sitting next to them terrifies me. I don’t know if Wheaton wants all of me – if it wants my brutal emotional honesty or my refusal to hide for the sake of promoting a “better” image.

I guess it doesn’t matter…. because I am going back to school in 6 days, and there is no stopping that.