faith unfaded

Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ. Philippians 1:6

I know that the Lord began a work in me over fifty years ago. I loved the Lord as a young child and sought daily to please Him much as I’m doing now. But in between I’d often get off track.

That no longer bothers me; He’s cast my transgressions as far as the East is from the West. We are no longer focused on the former things, they have passed away. (2 Corinthians 5:17)

The problem is that some people have pigeonholed me in harder times of my life and made erroneous judgments about my character. For the most part, I no longer defend myself. Occasionally I will speak up, but it’s often a futile effort. Some people will never extend grace to me because they can’t extend grace to themselves.

A pragmatic realization is no balm for a wounded heart.

I see a glimmer of reconciliation, a spark of hope, only to find myself dismissed in their eyes and shunned by their actions. I wish I had tougher skin sometimes. I wish I could cut people off as easily as they disregard me sometimes. I wonder how Jesus did it.

I’m not cut out for this, I think, this selfless love that gives while being ridiculed and scorned. I want to scream that they don’t know me at all. Their narrow minds have issued a verdict without considering the evidence.

I am not the same person I once was.

But whether they see it or not is irrelevant. I know who I am in Christ.

Enough. Redeemed. Light. Wonderfully Made.

It took me over a year of telling myself those things daily before I began to believe them. I won’t allow someone’s negative perceptions of me to change how I believe God sees me. I won’t allow those who reject me to be a reflection of my worthiness.

I will allow myself the time to grieve my loss but not for long. We cannot follow Him if we put anyone (mother, father, child, ANYONE) over the Lord. (Luke 14:26)

Ultimately, what He thinks of me is the only thing that matters. And just like the song I sang as a child: He’s still working on me…