What I Know to be True

I’ve been staring at this empty screen for nearly an hour. Frustrated for not being able to transfer my thoughts into keystrokes. One might think I have nothing to say, but I know that’s not true. No, I have too much to spill and too little space. And I’m struggling with finding the balance of what to share and what to leave behind.

Madeline L’Engle said sometimes when we have to speak suddenly, we come closer to the truth than when we have time to think. Time to write it out.

Everything about that frightens me as I generally become speechless in person. And deep down I wonder if that means I struggle with what I know as truth.

Friends, in the last week I’ve been knocked down, stripped bare, left with wounds gaping. And as I look at myself in this most raw, impressionable state, I can’t hide it: The Truth.

She met me at my most vulnerable. Completely clueless as to why I was placed in her charge. As she probed in the most tactful way she could muster, I couldn’t help but smile. Yes, that’s me. Always trying to make another comfortable. But my voice gave truth away. It shook and threatened to give out on me as I explained politely why I was there. She wrapped her hand around mine as she searched for words of comfort. And came up with what most do: “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, but don’t be sorry,” I assured her with a level voice that surprised even me. “Sorry implies regret and I have none. Yes, this hurts, but it doesn’t define me.”

We both held each other as we let those words sink in. Me needing them more than she. Words of truth I didn’t realize were within.

And bravery started creeping in because maybe I see more truth than I realize.

I’ve been asking myself what I’ve seen through this mask of pain. And friends, as I picture you within reach, speaking to your compassionate eyes, this is what I can tell you:

Truth is, I’m a mess. A big puddle of failure if we focus on what I can do alone. I’m indecisive albeit easy-going. Only driven when I’m feeling challenged. Nothing about me stands out in a crowd.

I hide well behind politeness but inside I’m a dirty, rotten sinner.  Begging desperately for redemption. Clinging to the hope of amazing grace.

Truth is, I’ve found it: Grace. It was offered to me in a plain wrapped package. Like it could have been gifted to anyone. I couldn’t see my name on it until I got close enough and accepted it as my own. I’ve tested it. Sometimes without realizing it. And it’s true: The mercy of grace is new every morning.

Truth is, I can’t live without Him. To call Him my Savior seems like an understatement. For He has done more than save me. He’s redeemed me. Claimed me for His own. Made me feel like I’m His everything. He’s all that’s beautiful within me. And I’m head over heels in love.

Truth is, nothing can take that away. No amount of pain or sorrow can steal what He’s offered me. Reminding me how hopeless I am without Him can’t change the fact I have hope with Him.

Truth is, the enemy has his work cut out for him if he thinks I’ll walk away from this scandalous love affair I’ve wrapped myself in. No. I’m not that easy.

Friends, in the last week I’ve been knocked down, stripped bare, left with wounds gaping. And as I look at myself in this most raw, impressionable state, I can’t hide it: The Truth.

I’m a child of The King.
My name’s been written in Glory.
And I’m well on my way Home.
I hope to see you there.

How about you, friend? What do you know to be true? I’d love to hear.

Thanks for sharing your time with me.

Simply striving,

Nikki

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