Why am I afraid to simply tell my story, to share the truth of my life?
A friend asked me last night, "What has writing your blog been like?" and I tried to find an answer - like it was a quiz show question. Stumbled around it, talking about how I do it, and why I decided to do it, not really responding to her question because when she asked it, there was nothing there as a direct response.
This morning the answer comes to me. "What has writing the blog been like?" It's like... breathing. Ridiculously easy. I just sit down, and write the words that come to me. No stress. No deep pondering. Just ... a breath, and then I write.
So, why do I say I am afraid to write fully my truth? Because it's God stuff. Jesus stuff. My life path since writing Painting Lily.
I'm afraid to share it because I am afraid people might think me odd. "Oh, you've turned into one of those people." I might lose followers. I envision my seven hundred name email newsletter list dropping in half overnight, because people run away when you start mentioning Jesus Christ in a newsletter.
But if it has brought a whole new level of joy and meaning into my life, why wouldn't I share it?
I want my life to be living witness to my faith. I want to be light shining into people's lives, not as something coming form a place of ego in my head, but from Christ's love in my heart, guiding every single thing that I say and do.
I want to stop being timid with my words. To speak my truth. My real truth.
Painting Lily was definitely written as fiction. But yes, Lily and I share a lot of common experiences. A lot of which I am not proud, but I can't go back and change. I wrote the book out of my own struggle to make sense of those chapters of my life. I couldn't forgive myself.
Then I learned I didn't have to.
What I did need to do was to get on my knees, confess the truth to my heavenly Father (or heavenly parent, if you prefer) - who already knew every single sin I committed - to confess it, and ask for forgiveness.
A forgiveness I received one year ago, on September 20, 2015, when I went down in the waters of Nantucket Sound, received God's forgiveness in baptism, emerged anew, washed clean of my past sins, able to move forward and start again in new life.
I think that's why it is referred to as being born again. Because it gives us a fresh start on life, new life in Christ.
Such a joyous, amazing experience. So why am I afraid to write about it? It's only words on paper, after all.
They are my words. My truth of my own experience. If someone chooses to judge me because my path is different than theirs, or I am not theologically correct to their own experience or tradition, then so be it. I'm not attempting to be scholar, or theological. And this isn't a quiz show. It's not a test question or a final exam on which I am trying to get the A+ (how long does it take to shed that mentality?!).
I hear a voice tell me "Lighten up, Mimi. Just be, Mimi. The genuine, authentic, real deal." Take off my mask. Come out. Tell my story. The real one.
Because in the sharing of it, if just one single person is moved, or inspired, or comes to their own moment(s) of saving grace, forgiveness, and joy, than it is all worth it.
Ephesians 4: 29 (NLT) - "Let everything you say be good and helpful, so that your words will be an encouragement to those who hear them."
I love you all.
P.S. - Haven't shared a musical entry with you in a while. Here's one of my new favorites. I need you now.