My 3-year-old is playing a game on my iPad, and his brothers have come to watch. "I'm good at this game!" he announces confidently. With barely a pause between, the next words out of his mouth are a question: "Am I good at this game?"
Lately he likes to assert what he knows or what he imagines to be true and follow it very quickly with the question, "Right?" ("I'm 3, right? That's a cat, right? It's a sunny day, right?") He is the youngest of three boys, and sometimes he sees what he can't yet do and what he doesn't yet know more than he sees all he can do and all he does know. Overall, he is a pretty confident little guy, but when he compares himself to others, he begins to doubt. (I'm working to help him outgrow that.)
I am like my 3-year-old.
My insecurity does not always come from comparing myself to others, although that is certainly a plausible culprit much of the time. My insecurity also has its roots in selfishness and pride. That's not easy to admit, much less publish on the World Wide Web, but I've had to face the simple truth: When I'm wrestling with insecurity, I am completely focused on myself, and I am usually pondering what people think of me and why they think it. That's right -- selfishness and pride. (And I'm working to outgrow those, but they are hanging on for dear life.)
This week I've been in a major battle with insecurity for a couple of reasons. I have been hearing and reading about the wild success many of my peers and friends are enjoying, and I have been wondering again why success has been somewhat elusive to me lately. In a totally unrelated matter, I've also been involved with some sort of miscommunication that has both puzzled and perplexed me and left me feeling dejected and rejected. I won't get any more specific than that, but I will say I have spent far too much time analyzing and dissecting actions, decisions, conversations, and others' perceptions about me.
What to do? The only thing I know to do: Run to Jesus, who knows me inside out, all my flaws and missteps, and calls me His own. I've tried hard to get my mind off myself, so my boys and I have done a lot of cranking up the praise music and dancing in the living room. I've spent extra time in the Word and prayer journaling. I've tried to stay away from the phone since my usual fix would be to call my mom or another trusted friend to whine about my problems. I am a big fan of Beth Moore, and although I haven't read her book by this name yet, I have repeated the phrase to myself often this week: "So long, insecurity." Isn't that a marvelous thought? That I can bid insecurity good-bye, that I have the power to do that? I should be finding my identity in Christ, losing myself in Him really, and there's no room for insecurity in Him. Maybe I haven't purchased the book yet because I'm still trying to wrap my head around the vast implications of the title alone!
Then I felt the Lord gently remind me last night that while I've been concerned about my business and my friendships, I have many friends who love me almost as unconditionally as He does, as well as family members who love and support me far more than I deserve. So this morning I made a list of my true friends, people I know I can count on no matter what, who will tell me what I need to hear and not always what I want to hear, who love me enough to work through problems together, and who would drop everything to be there for me if I really needed them. Even if we haven't seen each other in years, I know we could pick back up right where we left off, and if they live in my area but we don't get a chance to connect often, I know they understand and we will enjoy beautiful fellowship when we have time to get together.
I think that's when it hit me: My friends are better friends to me than I am to them. This wasn't a condemning thought that made me feel guilty. Rather, it was a humbling and enlightening revelation that I haven't been practicing the Golden Rule. Oh, sure, I do thoughtful things for my friends when the mood strikes me, and if they called me in an hour of need I would try my best to be there for them. But I saw with startling clarity that my friendships are too often established and maintained on my terms. So at 8:00 this morning, I did the only thing I knew to do and sent several friends on my list a quick text or e-mail to let them know that they matter to me, that I appreciate them, that I value them and their friendship. I just thought they needed to know right away that I love them.
My completed list does not include fair-weather friends, acquaintance-friends, long-lost friends, or friends who were in my life for a meaningful season but will most likely never contact me again or expect to hear from me either. I also didn't include family, although I do consider some of my immediate and extended family members to be among the best friends I'll ever have. This list just includes girlfriends, the kind I'd love to spend a day or weekend with, the ones with whom I feel comfortable and happy and whose presence I leave feeling refreshed and loved. There are plenty who have disagreed with me or with whom I've had some type of confrontation or misunderstanding, but we have cared about each other enough to be honest and work to repair what was broken. I do have a few friends on the list who I haven't known very long but hope to develop a deeper friendship with, but overall these friends have stood the test of time.
There are 22 names on my list.
The God of the universe loved me so much that He went to the greatest possible lengths, enduring unthinkable suffering, just to give me a way to enter into relationship with Him. As if that weren't enough, He blessed me with loving parents, an amazing husband (who came with some pretty awesome in-laws), and three miraculous and precious gifts who call me "Mommy." Then, out of sheer generosity and what I imagine might have been gleeful delight, He sprinkled more than 20 outrageously wonderful girlfriends along my life's path. I would be thankful to have even just one of them -- but 22! How can words express gratitude for such abundance?
I'm not sure, but I think I can start with these words: "So long, insecurity."
What a beautiful Savior, glorious life, and future full of endless hope and possibility. Shame on me for giving into selfishness, pride, and critical self-analysis when I have a world of people around me who need me to give my best, be the person God created me to be, love deeply and lavishly, and shake off all that my flesh and the devil might say or do to thwart God's plans for my life. "There is therefore no condemnation;" dwelling on all I've done wrong (just this week!) will get me nowhere. Dwelling on Jesus and going wherever He takes me will be my calling, my fulfillment, and my greatest accomplishment. Insecurity will have to sit this one out.
So long . . .