"Love—the true kind of love, the kind of love that overflows inside of us because of who God is and who we are and who He has born us anew to be—ought to pervade every piece of our life."
Friday, August 16, 2013
I have to fight to believe truth. I know the truth with my head.
In theory I know that I am loved and for the most part people like me. I can make a difference and life is worth living well. In theory I know that it's alright to make mistakes because I am human and that there is grace that surrounds me for such times. But most of the time my heart doesn't buy it.
Sometimes I believe this truth with every fiber of my being, I can feel the life humming within me but without fail I will come tumbling down and landing in a heap right on top of the pile of my fears.
I feel as though I am forgotten and cast aside, I read rejection and disdain in the eyes of all the characters on the scene, and feel as though no matter how small the offence: if I deviate from perfection I will be hung out to dry. Despair makes me I feel as small as I am and as though my life will never even make the smallest of ripples in this ocean of time.
This is why I write, this is why I read, and bathe my soul in beautiful music. Words are the flaming sword that I use to battle these demons of insecurity and perfectionism that have plagued me for as long as I can remember. Because somehow when I name these nightmares and fears they weaken a little bit, their grip loosens for a moment and I am able to slip free and finally go skipping out into the sunshine with laughter slipping from my lips and for a moment I don't care what you people think about me at all because I am myself and I am Ming and if you don't like me it's okay because I am loved.