There is this idea that we are perpetually
rediscovering what is already true. In our spiritual walks, we are uncovering
the God who is already at work within us. Science discovers what exists already
but didn’t know or couldn’t name. Our experiences shape us... and yet who we
are shapes how we experience things. In this way, we go through life
rediscovering who we are.
In depression, so often we feel lost.
Questioning if this is all there is. Is this all I am? Is it enough - no - can
it be more - I don’t think so.
The lostness of ourselves is the fact that we
have lost the eyes to see us for who we are. I am on a quest to rediscover what
I have forgotten - the me that I already am - the me that will shape the one I
become - the me that has been refined through every storm. Michelangelo is
quoted that in his sculpting he simply removed what wasn’t the sculpture -
uncovering the art within. “The David” was always in the marble -
Michelangelo’s task was to uncover it. This is now my quest. To uncover what
already is. To reveal what has been made.
There are some real key issues that keep this
from happening. First, there is an idea that we have to come up with what the
sculpture looks like - and that we can do it wrong. This is fundamentally
incorrect, but also assigns a huge weight of never being enough, not looking
right, being afraid that we cannot undo the work already done. In this is idea,
the past has already spoiled the future and I need to spend the rest of my life
trying to buff out the stain and the scars. In this idea I am frozen, fearful
if I move to the right or the left, I am setting off a string of events that
forever rewrites the possible. And that my legacy is dependent on today’s work
- so I better not get it wrong.
Unconditional love (and grace) are at odds with
this concept, which is intellectually easy to see, but emotionally nearly
impossible to believe. Unconditional love accepts and loves the sculpture
beneath. The scars and stains are part of the final version that is already
cherished. In this, I have a choice. I can spend my life trying to earn love,
worrying about everything that is not enough. Or I can throw myself into the
idea that I was never enough but already chosen - and that means I’m not earning
love and I’m incapable of losing love.
Here’s the awful truth - I want to be chosen for
something I have done. I want to be able to point to the reason why I am
worthy. I want to be handed a trophy that proves my worth and polish it every
day. I see all my flaws, my tears, my shame. When my darkness stares me down,
don’t I need some bright and shiny proof that my good outweighs my bad? What if
one more dark thing tips the scales and I am no longer accepted. No longer
loved. The truth is laid bare for all to see - and the sculpture beneath is
judged as rubbish instead of art.
Even though I have a glimpse of grace, I choose
fear.
At the heart, I think I am smarter than God. I
see the true me and when He sees what I really am, He will change His mind. I
don’t accept myself as precious, knowing the truth of who I am, so how could
He. I wouldn’t choose me - and in a matter of time, He will realize His
mistake. This leaves one path out of the darkness - to believe what He sees is
the more real version of me than the one I can see. To believe He sees the
finished version and intentionally chose me - the me I haven’t seen yet. Grace
seems to good to be true.
But grace believes that God is greater than I
am. He is more loving that I am. He is more forgiving than I am. His goodness
is greater than my own. His patience is infinite. His truth is eternal.
Before I can rediscover anything about myself, I
need to rediscover God. I have to believe the truth of who He is before I can
accept the truth of myself. As God reveals Himself, I can rediscover the one He
made me to be. The one He chose. The one He loves.
