I used to write with some frequency. The more people who came to read my blog, especially those who I am friends with in physical space, the more I felt like I couldn’t be myself. I became careful, almost cautious of what I was sharing. Part of me felt like I had to put up a front, a mask if you will, to project an image I thought people wanted to read and see. I began to write less and less. Dropping any personal vulnerability and focusing more on general items. This alarmed me. Writing is my outlet, a window to an inner world of thoughts rarely spoken.

“How can we be loved if we are always in hiding?” – Donald Miller, Scary Close (p140)

I have always been insecure with who God made me to be. Perhaps this is a fault. I have issues accepting God’s grace and forgiveness, even though I know that they are real. I find it easier to mentally beat myself up than accept something I cannot grasp. Wrestling with faith is not easy but necessary.

This is where I am today. I want to write. Be myself. Embrace who Christ has created and called me to be. Not worrying what others think, what their perception is of me. I am created with a purpose and a unique voice. I am tired of the negative thinking. I am tired of fear. Today I want to be free.

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