Finding God in the Broken Places

Recently, I've found myself floundering once again with the all-consuming questions related to self-identity and self-worth.  “Who am I?” and “What is my purpose?” were questions I thought I had very rational answers to, but suddenly the words I would use to respond became simple rhetoric; meaningless.

Who am I?

I am not who I thought I was.  Am I more or am I less?  Or am I just something “other”, as if I am simply stepping sideways?

There is a danger in spoon-fed answers and spoon-fed responses.  When someone else tells you who you are, and you accept their words as Truth, then what becomes of you when their Truth becomes a lie?

People will inherently disappoint you.  They will betray you, hurt you, anger you…they will create within you every negative emotion possible, if you allow yourself to live in relationship with them.  The alternative is to live within yourself, not sharing, not loving, and not truly living.  Opening yourself up to every single type of emotional pain imaginable doesn’t sound very attractive, does it?  But it also allows you to be open to every positive emotion available; love, passion, forgiveness, empathy, compassion, grace…

Living in full, deep relationships with people puts you on the precipice of the see-saw.  You fly the highest, but your rear end gets dirty when you bump the ground.

I haven’t been able to journal or write for several weeks, as I have struggled over these questions.  For some reason, I chose to look at my blog today, and my eyes glanced over at my “bio”… 

Who am I?

I am a fragile clay jar: pressed, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; hunted, but never abandoned; knocked down, but not destroyed.

My words; borrowed from the Bible.  This is me.  I am not somebody else’s paper doll, to be molded according to their wishes and desires.  I am a unique creation, with inherent value, and I belong to nobody but God. 

I’m a fragile clay jar.  Handle with care.