This post isn’t about the cutesy title. It’s all about me. We need places where we can be authentic. If nothing else, I have been real in front of you.
Every day I struggle with who I am. And there are some days I don’t care if you get it or not. I can’t let your process hinder mine. I know I am selfish when I say that. Honestly, when I think about what to share with you here, I get hindered.
Just because it’s true it doesn’t always have to be said, but that doesn’t stop the recorder in my mind to absorb what I want to say to you. I am nothing but authentic when it comes to what I write.
Authenticity breeds connectivity. I saw it from the plane as we took off on Saturday morning. There were lives lined up in the form of houses, on the Nicaraguan landing strip. Lined straight, lined in a row, row after row of color.
The color of the Nicaraguan people was nothing but authentic. And they showed it. And they didn’t care who was watching. They didn’t care who was noticing, they didn’t care who saw, they didn’t care that it was beautiful or compelling. They didn’t know that it would speak to me from afar, from the row of 22D from the lens of my life peering into theirs.
They didn’t know the mark of their lives that left a mark on mine. I’ve been changed by a simple mission trip to witness a colorful people simply living. That day, Saturday, was the day I stopped living like chopped liver. This day is the day I get to live life in my color.
Something unhinged in me when I saw their colors brightly beaming from a 8″ x 8″ window into their lives. It’s easy to look into many lives and tell you how to fix them. From my lens it’s easy to see your brightly colored life that you project. But my question I ask silently is are you authentic?
Everyday I struggle with the same questions I ask of you. Am I authentic?
Since I started looking inward, I have found a lot of myself in the answer. I once realized that if you really knew me, you wouldn’t like me. I once realized that if I told my struggles, you would not see the real me. I once realized that I had to pen the perfect post. I once realized that if I was honest with you that we couldn’t find any common ground.
I know today those are lies. I am finally finished with that story. It’s not that I have NOT been real with you, or not authentic. I have. But it’s time to show you the real color of my life from the inside out. A writer often struggles with her niche in this world. I realized my blandness in seeing the vibrancy of a colorful people. They didn’t care about living a bold and colorful life nor did they know I was noticing their color.
They still showed the color of their lives in a way that I could connect with. And their lives have contributed color to mine.
I am a writer, a freak about Jesus, one veteran of faith, and a lover of God. My colorful story looks different every day. It takes me to many places in my mind and with my feet. My pen is always ready to record what He shows me, even if you never see it. And its my story to show the color of God authentically in front of you.
When I record my faith journey I am living the colorful story of God in my life. It’s time to step up and show you my struggles instead of hoarding them like you don’t care. The fact that I care is reason enough to be authentic and bring you along in this journey of faith.
We all have the chopped liver stuff inside we don’t want others to see. Many of you know that, but you don’t let others see the real inside of you, because you are afraid that people won’t like you if you admit that stuff openly. So how much does that eat away at you?
I’m not living like chopped liver anymore. Join me in being real here.
Thank you for reading today. Together, we’re better. It’s time to own my colorful authenticity. It’s time to let my color out and wave my hands like I just don’t care. In a way that you might take notice.