1 Peter 5:6-7 So be humble under God’s powerful hand. Then he will lift you up when the right time comes. Give all your worries to him, because he cares for you.
I hate making mistakes. It honestly triggers me. It’s like an allergic reaction mentally, my body rejects the mistake violently even if it’s part of who I am as a broken person. I work for a company that produces content for people who are studying to get into dental or optometry school, and it’s honestly a great job. I love the work I can do, but there’s times where I get my math wrong or misunderstand a concept and I feel so terrible about myself. I feel bad for the people I work with who have to check my work, the people who go through the question and get it wrong because of me, and it’s the weight of feeling like a failure is tattooed on my forehead.
My fear of failure isn’t because I have a tiger mom or dad, if anything my parents try to get me to relax. They are anti-cultural to the idea that success is king because Jesus is king. They want me to be safe and happy. I love them for that. So, I wanted to be a doctor of my own fruition. I wanted to serve people in the healthcare field, it was exciting and challenging. I love people, they are the heart of God’s kingdom, and regardless whether they are believers or not, they are each image bearers of God who deserve respect, care, and love.
So, when I make a mistake it isn’t just an extra 0 or misapplication of Newton’s Third Law, it is facing the idea that I’m failing myself, failing God’s promise, failing all these students and people I’m trying to help, and it makes me hate the dream I cried, prayed, and fought for. It is so nauseating to me that I considered quitting now, right after getting accepted into my dream optometry school because I am so fearful that this is just the start. If I can’t even get entry level physics right, how can I treat patients, how can I serve well, how can this be the calling for me? I’m just going to fail them too. Might as well quit while I’m ahead.
These are the burdens that ravage my heart and soul.
Do you know what I want? More than anything?
I want God to look at me, like He did when Jesus was being baptized (from Matthew 3:17), and say "This is my [Grace], whom I love; with [her] I am well pleased." I want God, so badly, to be pleased with me because I stand good enough for Him. I say I believe in the free gift of eternal life, and then I work so hard to earn it. I am dying to earn God’s approval of me when it’s already signed, sealed, and delivered (from Stevie Wonder). I say Jesus’ work is the only pride I have in life, and I bust my butt and then some whenever I take a step out of the imaginary line I draw for myself.
It is exhausting. It is so exhausting.
God, help me.
I think God let’s me run around like a dog chasing its own tail, spinning to this point of nausea, so I can come back to my senses and again and again: tell myself the gospel. It’s a recurring theme of my life. I fall. I fall so deep. I fall until the sensation of falling feels like standing still.
God, I come before You so not humble. The least humble. I think I’m awesome. Great. Fantastic. I can do it all. I’m Your girl. No hero needed. I’m good. I’m better than good. God, I come before You shaking in my own skin. No energy left in me to continue. I am sorry that this is the story of my life that I lift myself so high that each breath hurts, and I don’t remember how to get back down. God, I’m sorry that I’m so sucky. I’m honestly sorry that I am someone You love. Like You chose this? I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
I close my eyes. Lungs hurting. I need help. I need You to help me by breaking any idea that there’s any goodness that I own apart from You so that when I’m back on the ground, I climb up only on the foundation of Your goodness. I need to be broken so that when I finally reach the top there is no doubt in my mind, no credit for my own to claim, and full glory in the name of Jesus as the only way I was able to survive all this and come out stronger on the other side.
Comments
Post a Comment