On Finding Yourself

"All the world's a stage
And men and women merely players..."
-Shakespeare, As You Like It


I have spent a lot of time working to find my true self, and while I was living in New York, my counselor even made it our overarching goal to "find my voice".

At the same time, I have spent a lot of time wishing I could be like other people, and being jealous of those who were

more outgoing
thinner
more "successful"
more popular
better at acting
better at singing
more satisfied
etc., etc.

than me.

And tonight I was sitting at a restaurant with a large group of people, surrounded by a crowd of talkers at a point in the day when the extroverted side of me was tired and the introvert was wanting to come out, and I realized that I was actually allowing myself to be okay with not necessarily fitting in. I actually had the mind-freeing thought, "Well, I have always wanted to be original!" And I was proud of me for thinking these thoughts. And very thankful to Jesus for the lessons he was been teaching me, proving that no experience is wasted. Thinking such wise, settled thoughts, I felt almost 30, a little more mature, and a lot more accepting of my true self.

And something so simple and yet so important occurred to me: The feeling I've had for years that I lost myself somewhere, and the way I have overworked myself trying with all my might to be as cool as other people and gain their acceptance, go hand in hand.

In deciding to try to be as ______ as (fill in the blank) the people around me, I was rejecting my true self over and over. I was devaluing her. No wonder I ended up feeling like the real me had died, or was held prisoner in some dungeon deep within me. And no wonder I have felt so much deep, inexplicable rage at times, all the while trying to keep it together on the surface so that people would still like me.

I have been like an actress who has been cast in the role that she was born for, for which she was specifically and lovingly and wisely crafted...only to wish she had been given a different part. The actress then spends all her energy not seeking the director's guidance on how to play her role with excellence or delighting in the joy of living out her destiny, but memorizing someone else's lines. In the process, she starts to feel aimless, as if she is missing what she was made for.

I'm starting to think that maybe I have been like that with God for a long time. I have heard a lot about trusting God, but not realized until now that I have not trusted him as an artist. No wonder I have been struggling so much to fully be the artist I know he has made me to be.

I haven't trusted that he designed me skillfully and masterfully, with the hand of an expert craftsman, which is in fact the astonishing and ill-deserved truth. (And by the way, you were made by that same master artist. Try thinking that the next time you look in the mirror.) I haven't trusted his shrewd eye as a casting director or his absolute wisdom and vision as a director. (And by the way, you were cast and are being directed by that same God.)

And he is so lovingly and so faithfully bringing his daughter back to myself, not so much by giving me something new, but by peeling away all the extra layers I had put around myself.

Oh my goodness! I just realized while writing that last line that that's how my counselor in New York described it. She drew a person with a heart that was the real me, and then drew layers around it, saying that inside those layers was a person who had worth and value.

Oh, Lord, you are truly a daddy who answers prayers and knows how to give GOOD gifts to your children.


All praise to the artist of artists, the director of directors,

THE KING OF KINGS.





Photo by Heidi Kristin Wager