Salt and Grace

Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone. Colossians 4:6

A Case of (Mis)Taken Identity

Does this make me look fat?

The voice in my head says, “Yes.”

The voice in my head says,

“I am fat, and

I am soft, and

I am ugly.”

 

So it doesn’t really matter

What you say –

My mind is made up.

 

My mind is made up about

My floppy arms and my squishy belly,

My dimpled thighs that jiggle and wiggle like

Jelly.

And while we’re on the subject,

What happened to my neck?

What’s with the ruts in my face,

Freckles on my skin

Legs

Crawling with veins?

 

I’m a clay pot arguing with its Maker,

Telling The One who shaped me

He did it wrong!

 

I’ve lost my way,

Forgotten who I am,

Who I was created to be.

I’m Suffering

From a Case of Mis(Taken) Identity,

 

Covering up instead of stepping out,

Letting Fear rob me of my destiny,

Letting the world determine my worth.

 

The world perpetuates

The myth of better,

The myth of more.

Forcing its false dream upon us,

The talking box screams:

Keep up!

Don’t you want to be an Idol?

Don’t you want to be A Real Housewife?

 

We’re ensnared by snake oil salesman

Who promise a quick fix to whatever ails.

Surely you won’t die.

Take, eat,

You’ll be like God.

 

We nip and tuck our brokenness,

Photoshop, and chemically peel away our imperfections.

We numb, binge, purge, cut it off

And we call it

Courage.

 

Courage is

Beating our wings against the chrysalis

Until we become, until we fly.

But the world says, ‘Chill butterfly,

Life ain’t meant to be a struggle.

You do You Bro.’

 

The world is a liar.

 

We were knit together in our mother’s womb.

The Maker did not drop a stitch, yet

We cry.

Why?

Why did you make us this way?

Why not prettier, blonder, thinner,

Whiter, blacker, richer, smarter?

A little more here,

A little less there,

A little more…

In our derriere?

 

We’ve lost our way,

Forgotten who we are,

Who we were created to be.

All of us, Suffering

from a Case of Mis(Taken) Identity

 

The poor and needy search for water

Tongues parched from thirst,

Starving for acceptance.

Fearing the worst,

They crawl over the worn out welcome mat,

Take a seat in the pew,

And see white male privilege in the pulpit.

While the ladies in the church basement

With their felt boards and their felt hats

Are asking each other,

Does this make me look fat?

 

Church: you’ve lost your way,

Forgotten whose you are:

You are

People of THE Way,

People of THE Power,

Aliens, born not to be comfortable

In this skin because this world is not your home.

 

But you’ve sold out.

 

You’ve sold out to The Platform,

You’ve sold out to The Couch,

You’ve sold out

To the World’s definition of beauty,

To the World’s definition of success

To the World’s definition of truth.

 

It’s time to stop posing,

Time to stop comparing,

Stop rolling our eyes,

And Pointing our fingers,

Managing our image,

Afraid to love, afraid to accept

Building a moat instead of a bridge,

Showing up on Sunday to be fed

Toast and Tea,

Thank you,

Nothing too spicy for me.

 

Jesus didn’t come to draw a line

On a frosted cake,

He came to put an end to our fake.

He didn’t come to make bad people good,

He came to raise us from the dead,

To silence the voices in our head.

He came to pardon the prisoners,

Heal the heartbroken,

He came to show us the way,

To show us who we were created to be,

Jesus came, and lived, and died to give us our

Identity.

 

Let’s behave like we believe that, shall we?

Let’s raise our floppy arms in praise,

Worship like no one is watching,

Let’s swim in the river of grace,

In our bathing suits,

At the beach!

In front of people!

Let’s show off our necks and our scars and our wrinkles

Wear them like badges of honor,

The timeline of our story,

A map to our soul

 

Let’s stop listening to the talking heads and

Start talking to each other.

Let’s keep our face out of the mirror and

Be about the business that matters.

 

Show me the way,

Help me be who I was created to be,

Jesus, restore my identity.

 

Here is a link to me reading this.

 

 

Welcome To My War

In the darkness of your mother’s womb, a war broke out. The first battle was for your very life – would you make it out alive? Clearly, you did. The next battle was for your soul, which requires you to pick a side. Perhaps you have, perhaps you haven’t, perhaps you thought you did but some days you’re not sure, or perhaps you question if you picked the right side. Either way, the war continues and the final battle in which you must fight is the one for your destiny.

Welcome to my war.

It’s easy to feel brave doing quite dangerous things like scaling mountains or taming lions or taking more toddlers than you have hands for to a water park if these things are not your calling. Why? Because no one cares. And by no one, I mean the No One that says, “Who do you think you are?” And, “You can’t do it.” And, “You will drown toddlers today.”

But do something simple, something safe, like string a few words together on a blog, or give a speech, and suddenly you’re on a ship headed towards Normandy. You know what lies ahead. You’ve heard the stories, been on this trip before. You hear gunfire. What is that smell? Your hands begin to shake, the bile is rising…again you ask, what is that smell? Is it death? Suddenly Tom Hanks says, “See you on the beach.”

Those words, they are enough, for today, to get you out of the boat and onto the shore. They are enough for you to do what you were created to do:  run up the hill, guns blazing, giving the finger to the No One in your head.

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