Tuesday, November 12, 2013

i want to tell you

{via pinterest}
i want to tell you my story. but i'm scared.

i want to tell you that my parents tried, that they were wonderful people who heard a word and let it twist inside the wrong direction. i want to tell you that i still love them, and they still love me, even though i'm still healing from some of their raising choices. i want to tell you that they're changing too, and they're not the people they used to be anymore either, that they're beautiful people with His hand-print etched deeper than it ever was.

but i'm scared.

i want to tell you that i grew up in purity culture where modesty was more important than personhood, where my worth as a woman was measured by the length of my skirts and the height of my neckline. i want to tell you that i followed blindly because i was too scared to take my sunglasses off inside the Church.

but i'm scared.

i want to tell you that i courted my husband and we have so much regret from the way we were guided into love. i want to tell you that i look back and i think, why didn't i just kiss him a thousand times before i finally took a breath of courage, and why did the fear have to come so strong afterward? i think, why didn't i press that Joshua Harris book back onto the shelf and whisper, it's okay. i'm going to hold his hand and we're both going to chase the Lion instead of legalism...why didn't i?

but i'm scared.

i want to tell you that i found a way back into love surrounded by a tribe of women who helped peel the duct tape off my mouth that the well-meaning Church slipped over my lips when i wasn't looking. i want to tell you that i've sobbed my eyes out for the nearly twenty-one years lost in blindness before i dared to look straight into His eyes and whisper, i don't know You. but You know me. 
{via pinterest}

but i'm scared.

i want to tell you that i realized that i was a Jesus feminist when they placed my daughter into my arms and i looked at her face and thought, i can't let her endure what i did. i want to tell you that stepping out as a feminist was like my own personal closet with helpings of shame and grief that came alongside the breathing.

but i'm scared.

i want to tell you that i love you. i want to tell you that i love Jesus. i want to tell you that i see Him as a Lion because He isn't safe, and i can't do safe faith anymore. i want to tell You that i'm messy, and so is Jesus, and that's why i can lean on Him so fully, because i'm not afraid that me will rub off on Him. :: if anything, He's rubbing off on me. 

and like i've said, i'm scared.

but i think i'm going to tell you anyway. because He has made me a wild thing, a lioness renewed with the wings of an albatross at her back.

*deep breath* 

10 comments:

  1. Oh my gosh. YES!!! I love this. A lioness renewed. That is gorgeous Rachel.

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  2. Let us peel the duct tape off your mouth! I love that. I'll help you if you help me.

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  3. Wow, Rachel. This is inspiring. And you use of imagery—well done! I love this: " i want to tell you that i love Jesus. i want to tell you that i see Him as a Lion because He isn't safe, and i can't do safe faith anymore. i want to tell You that i'm messy, and so is Jesus, and that's why i can lean on Him so fully, because i'm not afraid that me will rub off on Him. :: if anything, He's rubbing off on me. " lovely. Just lovely.

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  4. YES!!! Peeling, and speaking and breathing into this with you. I LOVE you and am PROUD oh so proud of the bravery. With each new step, each old, tattered lie you strip off and refuse to believe anymore you are not alone. Because we are here with you, stripping off the old lies and the duct tape and the breathing in of Him and the dirt that's on His cloak.
    I love you.

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  5. My duct tape came off a little more tonight as well and I shocked some people. A lioness renewed - they've heard the purring for a while - now let them hear me roar.

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  6. Wow. This is visceral, and so familiar. Applauding your bravery.

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  7. Dear Rachael
    C.S. Lewis had a great way of describing our walk with Jesus in his book, Mere Christianity. He likened our relationship with Jesus like a dog with his master. As the dog walks with his master, he later learns and becomes much like the one who loves him so much. That living at the end of ourselves trusting only our Lord sometimes makes me scared, but the good kind of scared!
    Blessings XX
    Mia

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  8. So beautiful, the line about your daughter? Yes. It resonated so deeply.

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  9. Oh Rachael...your words are indeed dramatically elegant and powerful true. Thank you for speaking up and out about crazy, binding legalism and church ladies and men that sadly don't have a clue and it is always LOVE wild and unsafe that sets us free to tell our story and live on purpose and by doing that we draw all to HIM. LOVE THIS...thanks for being scared enough to SHARE!!

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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