A Letter To My Younger Self: What My Faith Has Taught Me

Hello, 18 year old Sarah. 

I know we don't visit much, most memories are kept tucked safely away. Truth is, I'm both envious of you and embarrassed of you. Embarrassed of me.

Envious because you are so thin. I know you don't think it, but you are. So thin and so tan. And you have bounds of energy, often staying up all night. You bounce from social group to social group, albeit awkwardly. The world is in front of you and you have nothing but dreams.

But, you are embarrassing too. I don't like how arrogant and desperate for affection you are. Your (my) lack of tact and refusal to do anything that doesn't benefit you (me) in some way are most certainly annoying to everyone we meet. Your pathetic worship of any guy giving you attention is especially cringe-worthy.

I don't want to remember, because it's easier to pretend like I've changed. You know what I try not to know; that I am the same scared, insecure yet loud and obnoxious little girl I was 6, 8, 10, 15 years ago. 

Sure, now I'm married and no longer on the dating scene. I have a baby, and bartend at night. My circumstances are completely different. I don't cram for tests at IHOP all night and I don't spit out 10 page papers seconds before they are due. I don't roll out of bed and walk to class every day, and I certainly don't wear the same clothes anymore (mostly because post partum Sarah can't fit into them. Damn your skinny body). 

If we stood side by side, we would look very different. 

My downfall is wanting so badly NOT to be like you, that I delude myself into thinking I am different. Instead of looking straight at myself and dealing with what's right in front of me, I have been putting on layer after layer after layer of self-deception. 

I am scared of almost everything.
I want approval so badly.
I have to be right, all the time.
I think of myself first, always.

Just typing it makes me gag. I hate it. I hate me. Why am I like this? Yet I cling so closely to what I despise. I grieve with Paul "For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate."

I understand the gospel like you never did. I see the hugeness of God clearer, I understand the humanness of Jesus better, and I feel the presence of the Spirit stronger. I have heard God speak, seen Him provide, and watched Him change my own heart, relieving me of burdens. 

And yet, and still...

The war wages on. I forget about grace, I forget about mercy, I forget about rest. The Lord has done so much and yet I still feel like it is too little. I understand that He does all things for His glory, in His timing and yet I still cry "Why is it taking so long? Why am I still hurting? When will I be made new?"

But I am already made new, yet being made new. I am sanctified, yet being sanctified still. I am already, and not yet.

God, I'm a little sick of Your paradoxes. It feels like cheap tricks, designed to keep me hooked with the promise of new life just inches out of my grasp. Have You left me here to die? Do You really care? I just want to be done, Lord. My heart is groaning, bleeding, dying. I plod on simply on momentum and I am quickly running out of even that. 

You promised. You promised You would give me rest, if I would run to you. What if I can't run? Can You come get me, please? Can You get off Your throne, leave the grandeur of heaven, and make Yourself small enough to hold me?

I forget that You already did that. What I need so desperately right now, You already accomplished thousands of years ago. Dammit, You're good. You are so good. It's hard to believe in the midst of this constant battle within myself, with my eyes clouded by guilt or shame, that You really are good.

That is what my faith has taught me, 18 year old Sarah. It's taught me to look up, to gaze at God's face in the midst of the suffering, the pain, the struggle. Because when I gaze upon His glory, I find santuary. I find rest. I remember what He's done, and most importantly I see how that impacts me personally. So look up Sarah. Always look up.

The video is off of Dustin Kensrue's album The Water and The Blood. I highly suggest you drop everything and go buy it now. So full of scriptural truths, it got me through labor and many a dark place in the past year. Also, my husband and I were part of the gang vocals in the background on this song and that's FLIPPING COOL. 

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