I recently told a small handful of good friends about my blog — with the sincere goal that I would have no expectations for their responses, or if they would even read it. This is not a performance for me to receive feedback. While I love hearing from friends in comments, how others receive my offering is not the point. A week after admitting to my blog, I am riddled with doubts. The voice in my head spews accusations. “No one is that interested in your stuff.” “You don’t even live the life you speak about in the blog.” “Your art is very elementary.” “Everyone has a house, decorations…” “People might disagree or be offended…they might reject you.”

ALL those statements have elements of truth in them. I am not all that special of gifted. I struggle to live to what I have already attained. I may get some things “wrong” or just write a boring blog that doesn’t touch another soul! These thoughts are all parts of what I like to call “the little picture,” and they often leave me confused and afraid.

But there is a big picture in life. The one where God is central and Truth reigns – often contrary to worldly wisdom. I do have a set of experiences and personality traits unique to me. I do bear the image of God, and have a responsibility to offer back who He made me to be. I love this quote: “Our gifts are not from God to us, but from God through us to the world.” Janice Elsheimer, The Creative Call.  I knew the truth in all those attacks when I first put my blog out in cyber space, but I knew a larger Truth too. I hope many people are touched, encouraged, or helped by something I offer, but if no one is, there is a BIGGER picture. I am still sharing myself in obedience to a gentle nudge. I am discovering who God created me to be in this season of life, and sharing my reflections along the way. He is glorified when I ignore my fears and risk offering my authentic self to the world.

But man, oh man — the voices in my head! Putting a blog out with no “advertisements” is only slightly less private than my 5 foot high stack of private journals or my guest closet full of paintings! Telling a few friends is a step. “Going public” on facebook or to extended family members would really stretch me! And it is my goal… but first, I must address my fears, confusion and  doubt and let them be overshadowed by the big picture. My hope is that my musings will touch a similar place of attack in your life — and we will both be more free to live as we are, sharing our gift with those we meet.

I have always written out long-hand my thoughts and eventually many of my prayers. I have journaled and often illustrated my experiences and feelings from trips, school, dating and plain, everyday life. I have doodled, painted, decorated, cooked – all in an attempt at creating art and beauty. But, there was more to it. Usually the outpouring was kept private. So why bother? Why not imagine, contemplate, and create only in my mind?

I do all these things because I love them. They are the essence of “me” spilling over. I can hardly help myself, and I feel most fully alive when I am engaged in my art — whether it is writing, painting, conversations, flowers, decorating…  The better question is why do I so often keep my art — myself — hidden? And why do you sometimes keep the essence of who you are hidden?

There’s a song I’ve known all my life that’s baffled me as an adult: “This Little Light of Mine.” When, with all the other Sunday school children,  I yelled “NO!” in the line “hide it under a bushel, no! I’m gonna let it shine”, I was uninhibited. I could not have hidden my light if I tried! I hadn’t learned that I can’t carry a tune, or even that it mattered. I was just me, living in the moment! My voice and enthusiasm were my offering of passion and love to a God I was just getting to know! Hiding had not been learned because I saw no need. It came naturally to dance like no one’s watching and live like everyone loves me! I lived with abandon and without an critics — un-phased by applause or critiques. Awesome!

Sometime in early elementary school, an awareness of the opinions of others was learned. Their praise made me feel more valuable,  important, and loved.  I wanted to crawl under a rock if they ever felt I was inadequate in any way. Inhibitions, hiding, and self protection crept into my life if not my vocabulary. My imagination and private world prospered! I learned to go public only when I knew I could excel!

I grew up and wondered what it really meant to let my light shine. I knew the child’s song was based on the familiar verse Matthew 5:16. “Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” I like verses 14-16 in The Message translation:  “Here’s another way to put it: You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We’re going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don’t think I’m going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I’m putting you on a light stand. Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.” Did that mean Bible thumping on the street corners? Starting an important ministry? Leading Bible studies? Sharing the Gospel at work? Giving as much as possible? All these are possibly part of it, yes, but not necessarily always and not the entirety of the big picture. It’s much simpler than that.

Letting my light shine is to live with faith in the Love, worth and security that God offers — to live in the BIG picture where He is central. Ephesians 2:10 says “we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works.” All I can offer is the person He made me to be — my deepest identity —  to Jesus in the presence of others! In as many ways as He suggests! What Jesus does or doesn’t do with my offerings in the lives of others is HIS business! It’s not up to me! What a freedom,  relief and joy! I only need to love Him, love others, listen as I seek Him and follow.

But now I have to press “publish” for you to read my thoughts. It’s still hard every time. Part of me is excited, another scared of judgement or worse yet, no one caring. I have victorious moments where I am lost in Him! It’s also part of my little world truth that often I live under a bushel where my light is ineffective. I am slow to live everyday in the realities of all God is teaching me. I am impatient with myself, until I remember that I am not the one transforming me! God will complete the work He is doing in me. Just because I can’t live perfectly the way I want to, doesn’t mean I don’t believe with all my heart what God is telling me is possible  — including that I am meant to share my imperfect life with others.

My present is all I have. I want to show up and say “YES!” to God with all the conviction and abandon I had as a child singing “NO!” I won’t hide my light!

When I graduated from college, I always assumed I’d go on to graduate school — either to business school or to seminary. I knew what career path an MBA might lead to, but I’m not sure I had ever heard of a Master of Divinity, and I didn’t want to be a “preacher.” They were just two possible disciplines for continued schooling, considered by a young woman searching for  a plan and a purpose.

Business School was a good choice, because academically I could do the work — and I felt a certain expectation from others that I use those gifts.  Why consider seminary? There was a much stronger pull that originated from deep within me. One to learn more about God. A haunting if you will, that there was so much more to faith than I knew. I wanted the integrated faith-life I read about in Norman Vincent Peale and others. I was quietly and desperately searching, but not at all sure for what.

In high school, I spent many nights with my friend Joni. I was keenly aware of “something” different in the lives of her parents, precious Jack and Sue. They were a fabulous example of a Godly couple. I’m not sure if they knew that all those many teens flowing in and out of their home were watching and learning so much from them.  I know I was. And many of us would attest to the positive impact they had on our future walk as Christians, well after we all moved away.

In Jack and Sue I saw a gentle and loving conviction to live out their faith. If you spent the night with them on Saturday, you went to church with them on Sunday!  They said prayers before meals that weren’t memorized, but conversational! I saw them praying together in the porch swing once, when no one else was around. God and faith were woven into their conversations and daily lives with us as naturally as the weather, our dating lives, and sports teams! They laughed with us and listened to us. They seemed to sincerely value and respect teenagers, and care for us as individuals. I knew they had something I wanted, though I couldn’t have named it at the time. Looking back, I thank God for the seeds of desire for HIM that Sue and Jack planted in my heart.

College graduation came, and on its shirt tails a wedding. I still planned to go to graduate school soon after. The MBA idea faded, and I looked into the only two seminaries in my new town. One did not have female students and the another believed the Bible was ‘fairytales’ to help us live better lives. Needless to say, I didn’t go to seminary. Still I felt the hole, the gap. As a young mother, I once considered the four of us moving for me to go to seminary. I was almost through the application process for online classes at Dallas Theological Seminary, when they realized I was in a divorce process, and wisely suggested I hold off until it was resolved. In all these explorations of seminary, I was very thoughtful — and not all that prayerful. It was all my idea for what God might want me to do for Him.

Finally, on Memorial Day of 2008, sitting on my front porch at Alligator Point with my Bible and journals, I felt God’s call to seminary! It was irrefutable and compelling unlike any time in my life. I knew I was supposed to go to Atlanta to RTS — that fall. I started planning; anything else would have been disobedient — of that I was certain. I started looking for schools for my Sophomore and Senior in high school to attend. I searched for a home in Atlanta and put my Tallahassee house on the market. I applied to RTS, stating in my application that I felt “called” to seminary, possibly to write? I wanted to know all there was to know about God and the Bible. To put to rest the confusion in my heart over denominational differences and  some of the mysteries that baffled me. I wanted God to change me and use me! I was willing to do whatever he wanted me to do… I wanted that something I felt was missing, despite all God had done in me.

Much went well initially, and I took it all as confirmation from God that I had heard Him correctly. In early August, my children and I moved to Atlanta. By early October we were all settled in school and had moved into our new home. I had been through a lot in both my marriage and my divorce. I had learned so much about God and myself. Truly, I had grown quite a bit.

Then in October of 2008, I began a new journey of suffering and growth. All the rest of the things that I had unwittingly been putting my faith in were stripped away. I was on quicksand and everything around me was unstable. The market crashed, and I had only passive income. I was a stranger in a new town. My mom and dad entered a new season of life and health, as my father was diagnosed with aphasia. My relationship with a boyfriend ended and with it an intense revisiting of years of painful rejection. My children all had serious illnesses. One hated Atlanta and both were struggling more than I ever anticipated. I was struggling and alone more than ever before. Was this really God’s plan?

Skipping all the details of how “life” as I knew it was stripped away, I found myself in an un-welcomed pattern. I would get the kids to school, then spend all day in my bedroom, reading, writing and praying. I would rally as best I could when they returned in the afternoon. I remember one day wishing God would just take me… because I couldn’t take the pain of this life anymore. That was my lowest point, and also a new level of brokenness and surrender that allowed the Holy Spirit to teach me and change me in deeper ways.

As only God could arrange it, I had the semester-long assignment in a class on devotional classics to read as much of one author as possible, and to write a paper and present their works to the class. I chose Henri Nouwen, and as I read, and wrote, and wept in my bedroom alone, I learned a little more about what it means to say I am His Beloved. Jesus met me in such loving and intimate ways, that I almost welcome the next dark, midnight hour in my life. His faithfulness touched me. His love penetrated me. I am His.

It was all His plan. I learned a little more about why I might have been called to Atlanta and to seminary. Notice, it was never a call to a formal church ministry.  I wanted to master the Bible. I wanted to know more about Him. Instead, as I called out to Him, when all I thought I could count on was gone, He answered and revealed more of Himself to me.

I realized that what I was looking for was not knowledge, but a deeper more intimate and ever-present relationship with my Lord. That’s what Jack and Sue had, that I had wanted way back in high school. I  had learned enough by then to know (in my mind) that my personal relationship with Jesus was the key, but it wasn’t my reality.  In my darkest hour, Jesus penetrated my heart. The path from my head to my heart can be a long and treacherous passing. He taught me that it was okay that all those years, I had been wanting to learn more about Him.  But what He wants is for me to engage more regularly and more deeply with Him. To seek Him and Him alone, above all else.

This is obvious to me now, as the concept would have been to me even at the time, but I am stubborn — slow to adapt. I am an experential learner, and my Creator knows it. He had many reasons for calling me to RTS and Atlanta. I believe my husband, Rob, is one of them. Stripping away false gods and worldly security is another. Many reasons I may never understand, but I do know this: He went there before me and was with me through it all. He loved me and provided for all I needed at each step. He taught me to seek Him first, even as I study His Word and learn more about Him. He brought me though the fire, a little more refined — and I want more and more of HIm. I’m still learning all that He already taught and continues to teach me. But there is no doubt, I encountered my Savior and did not and cannot remain unchanged.

The joke around seminaries is that they can be a cemetery for faith. During my time at RTS, ultimately, I didn’t seek a degree,  I took only Bible classes and eventually only audited those. It was important for me to stop “performing” in class and to acknowledge why I was there both to myself and to God. Now I am in Tallahassee again. The Atlanta chapter was four years brief! I am still searching and learning. I’m still impatient with myself and how slowly I am growing, but I know for Whom, through Whom, and by Whom all things will happen. I will Trust Him, and I am more fully alive!