I’ve been given many names, yet not known who I am.
Those who loved me named me pinhead. A-word. B-word. C-word.
Others, who loved me differently, better, gave me names too; Friend. Gift. Treasure. Lifeline.
And there were many names in between.
So which words about me were true?
Who was I really?
Choosing Which Words to Believe
I remember distinctly the day I chose to believe the good words others spoke over me; an inner power was activated when I chose those words, when I claimed them as mine and let them become part of me.
Those who loved me named me pinhead. A-word. B-word. C-word.
Others, who loved me differently, better, gave me names too; Friend. Gift. Treasure. Lifeline.
And there were many names in between.
So which words about me were true?
Who was I really?
Choosing Which Words to Believe
I remember distinctly the day I chose to believe the good words others spoke over me; an inner power was activated when I chose those words, when I claimed them as mine and let them become part of me.
I had braved attending my first ever ladies retreat through our church. Until then, friendship had been a risky business I’d avoided. I’d been hurt too many times to trust people anymore. But, having grown weary of the isolation avoidance caused, I stepped warily into the friendship fray, meeting in a lakeside cabin with a bunch of women from church.
In one of the first sessions, the icebreaker exercise directed us to each strap a paper plate to our backs, dangling there from a string around our necks. It looked absurd, hanging there like a toddler’s circular cape, but there we were. Then each of us was equipped with a colored marker, and we milled about the room writing on each other’s plates something positive about its wearer.
That evening, privately in my room, I read what friends and strangers had to say about me; how did they see me? Who was I to them? I swallowed the worry about how insincere or bland the words might be, and read the plate. In bright splashes of color and fonts, kind and happy words were scrawled at all angles, defining me as someone encouraging. Pretty. Kind. Funny. My eyes misted over with gratitude, and I made a life-altering decision; I chose to believe the words on the plate.
I kept that plate for years and, on the occasions life’s loneliness would press in on me, threatening to snuff me out like a candle,
I would pull out that plate and absorb the words again. Remembering. Believing. Pushing back the darkness with those words of light.
A Marriage Story About Words
I think marriages come pre-packaged with at least one zombie – that one pesky disagreement or sore spot that keeps reappearing no matter how many times you’ve talked that thing to death. You know what I’m talking about. For us, one such issue was my feeling unloved and needing reassurance on that old familiar question too many men think too many women ask: “Why do you love me?” “What is it about me that you love?” You know, that one.
The problem wasn’t my husband’s lack of articulation or a lack of love. He does love me. The problem was largely that, because of where I’d come from, I was wholly uncertain of my footing in any relationship, and needed to constantly feel for the foundation, confirming it was in fact still there, and that I was, in fact, not about to fall off of it.
So, wanting not to continue torturing him with this difficult question, yet knowing I needed that constant check-in, I asked him to write me a letter.
“Just write down a list of things you love about me,” I suggested one day, “I need to know. And then, when I feel like I need to ask again, I can just go back to the letter.” It would help us both.
He agreed to write the letter. It was painful for him to do, but he did it. He etched out a numbered list (I think coinciding with my age), which I then logged as evidence and claimed as truth.
In the years afterward, whenever I’d feel insecurity creeping up the back of my neck again, and the fear of rejection would rake its icy claws across my heart, I would not go to him for reassurance. I would first sit alone with the letter, read it, and remember that his love is real. I would consciously decide to believe it and it would help me rediscover the foundation was, in fact, still there and not crumbling. This allowed me to choose once again to believe it.
Then, reassured, I could sit beside him on the couch, watch a show together, and instead of secretly wondering if he still loved me, could focus and enjoy the show because it was safe to do so. I was loved and I believed it, which gave me the freedom to just be.
That was also years ago, and I still have that letter. It’s a precious possession to us both.
>> I feel a side note is appropriate here: I’m not advocating denial or saying the power of positive thinking is what helps a person feel better in an unhealthy relationship. I hope the reader understands I don’t mean this rehearsing of positive words is a helpful tool in a damaged, unhealthy relationship. This is a tool I use in tandem with a relationship of health. I match past evidence (the letter) with current evidence (ongoing acts and words of love that are the natural outgrowth of the truths in the letter, thereby authenticating the written words) and together, they show me the truth. One without the other is living in a state of denial or wishing, neither of which I’m talking about here.
The Power to Choose
On the days I sat on my bed, empty and aching, choosing to believe the life-giving words of others instead of the self-loathing words piling up in my mind, I learned something critical: I get to choose.
I get to choose which words I believe and identify with.
And so do you.
We each have filthy lies whispering in our minds, echoing from the past, all of them pretending they’re truth, and all of them trying to erode our souls.
But we all have access to truth, too, and the evidence that points to it.
Sometimes it’s just the tiniest shaft of light in the darkness, but it’s there. One moment in life where someone was kind or when God’s voice could be heard through all the chaos. One single thing we can be grateful to God for providing. Even in the darkest moments, there is ALWAYS at least one. I’d argue there are more, but I’m not in that dark place right now, so it’s easier to say.
The Love Letter Jesus Left You
In these practices of holding words in my hands and consciously choosing to believe and become them, I learned a great deal about connecting with God in real, current relationship.
I used to see only the words of condemnation and death as my promises. I reserved only the bad words for myself. After all, they seemed to agree with what I’d been told up to that point.
With this new stream of life words shining in however, the clouds were beginning to break; I started reading the Bible with eyes that were willing to see the truth, and with a heart that was willing to accept its words of life for me. Even me.
I began to sit with those words of life, as strange and not-for-me as they seemed, and made a life-altering decision; I chose to believe them.
As I read of David, a “man after God’s own heart”, a man who God said pleased Him, I saw someone like me; someone who had immense emotions and dared to share them with God – the manic highs and the epic despair. That was allowed? God could handle that? Hmm!
In David I saw a man who failed and sinned and made terrible choices. Who let temptation get the best of him. Yet this was one who God loved and accepted and gave favor? Perhaps there was hope for me after all!
It was in David I saw a closeness with God – this brotherly, best-friend affection they had for each other – and for the first time I believed not just that it was a possible thing to experience, but that I, Kim Rempel, of nowhere Manitoba, could experience it too. Me. For real. Every day.
So I sat with those words, holding them in my hands, and absorbed them as hungrily as I had the words on the plate and in my husband’s letter. I devoured them. Let them become part of me. Soon, they began changing me. Where I previously felt God’s overbearing disdain, I realized his smiling delight. Where I used to feel pressure to get it perfect lest a lightening bolt find me, I now felt the tender grace of a parent helping a toddler to walk. Daddy doesn’t kick the baby. He smiles and says, “Oops, try again.”
But without having read His words and choosing to believe them, I would have missed that piece. I would have continued letting my own fears and misunderstandings define me (and God) and would have missed out on the richness of relationship.
Jesus left us a love-letter; a detailed story of what He loves about us, why He made us, and what wonderful purpose we have because of that. If we sit with it, willing to see in it the truth of who he is and who he says we are, those truths can change us. Those truths can identify us and give us a new, true name.
What are the words rolling around in your mind, trying to define you?
More importantly, how true are they?
A Challenge to Grow in Truth:
Part 1:
David was, what I refer to as spiritually bipolar, which is something I deeply appreciate. His epic highs and despairing lows wrestled through in his conversations with God are, to me, greatly encouraging. Read the Psalms or, better yet, the historic biography of David in the Old Testament, and see what God’s close relationship does for him. Then, when you see the life in it, choose to believe it can be yours too.
Part 2:
Don’t let it stay between you and the paper. Just as in the example of my husband’s love letter, it’s not enough to just read the thing; I am fulfilled not in the letter, but in our doing life together. It’s the same with Jesus; it’s not a ‘you-and-his-letter-only’ thing; a real, vibrant relationship with God happens in tandem with a healthy relationship with his family, the church. Connect with other believers and grow in healthy relationship there in tandem with sitting down with God’s love letter and choosing to believe it.
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Also, if you're looking for a short, easy read (for the lake? road trip?)
This. You'll probably like this.
It's a story of someone else caught between two names, two identities, clawing for freedom from the dungeon we each find ourselves in from time to time...
Plus it's thrilling and might take your breath away just a teensy bit ;)
Only $4.99 on Amazon (or $10 for the paperback)
From Amazon Reviewers >> "Gripping" "Spellbound" "I highly recommend"
