Monday, October 7, 2013

permission to drink {page three}

two years ago, i wrote this post. i didn't know how much this post would affect me. i didn't know how much it would linger, even in the years that followed.

i don't think i realized just how little permission i was giving myself in my own femininity and my own faith. the more i write, the more i tell my own story, the more i discover secret links of the chain that was holding me down. this post was another inch of the door, another chapter of my story that i was letting into the open.

:: i was learning to let my story breathe. i was learning how to have faith. 

but there was still that guilt. there was this whispering little tug at the back of my mind, pulling me away from the freedom and reminding me just how much more comfortable the darkness much safer i felt when no one could see me.

i was like the kitten that hides under a couch, the tip of her tail poking out, but absolutely sure that no one can see her. she was invisible, and that was okay. 

but i never had permission to be unseen. isn't that funny? i didn't have permission to tell my story, and it felt safer when i wasn't seen, but then, i was an extrovert. being seen came with the territory. tucking myself away wasn't okay, it wasn't part of the plan for me. was it? i grew up in the church, and that was my faith, and that was my way, and i didn't ask questions because i was just supposed to know. right?

the other day, i told someone about this book i was reading, thrashing about with God, and she gasped. it was obviously unintentional, soft and completely without drama, but it was there. she looked at me and said, oh, is that okay? to do, to read, for you, i mean?

and then they came, the inaudible words, soft and bitter, clawing at my confidence.. is it okay? are you sure you know what you're doing? what does He think of this? you're too wild. what would they think if they could see you like this?

i'm learning for it to be okay. i wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. and she smiled and made a few more little comments before she found a reason to slip away into the crowd. and then i realized :: it's okay. i'm okay. He sees, He knows.
i gripped the book a little tighter and smiled, maybe more of a grimace, but i managed to turn up the corners of my mouth and choke out,

it's okay.

the more i tell my story, the more pieces of me i let out, the more i feel like i'm being poured out as almost a literal drink offering on the ground. and it's exhausting. i see all these things happening around me and i feel pulled in a thousand directions. but who's doing the pulling?

there's no handbook laid out for exactly what the qualifications are to be "good enough." except there is, and everyone else seems to know every single word. and here i am, sitting at my computer, with my hair in a messy ponytail and feeling so much wild-er than is considered "appropriate."

but He isn't safe. He's good, oh, so good. and i have a Lion at my back to roar bravery when i'm the stammering clumsy mess who can't make my story come out right. it's pressing myself against the banks of the river and lowering my mouth to the water. unsure, but drinking deep, because He has swallowed up much and i am thirsty.

i have permission to drink.


  1. "it's pressing myself against the banks of the river and lowering my mouth to the water. unsure, but drinking deep, because He has swallowed up much and i am thirsty." Oh YES! Beautiful words!

  2. You are such a gifted writer..makes me want to keep reading!

  3. Yes, you have the words and your heart is full and you have the story and the gift. You are using those talent to God's glory and that is what matter the most.

  4. We convince ourself darkness is comfortable because we are often afraid of the light. But one we have thrashed, and made it through, and drink in His light we see the darkness for what it always was. Dark.

  5. Dear Rachel
    This is my favorite of all your posts that I have read this past few months! Oh, yes, dear one, we only need to submit ourselves to the Lion of Judah, and resist this liar whispering evil lies in our minds, and then he flees with his tail and his lies between his legs!
    Blessings XX

  6. Oh my friend - Just beautiful! Letting your story breathe...something we all need to do, if we are honest with ourselves. I am learning that in my series that it is not just about that we are overcoming the darkness, but that our steps towards victory, are the pathways we make for someone else. Thanks for clearly the brush for us all, as you share your words so honestly and beautifully! Thanks for UNITING your heart with us! ~ Jen


I look at you and see all the ways a soul can bruise, and I wish I could sink my hands into your flesh and light lanterns along your spine so you know there's nothing but light when I see you. :: Shinji Moon