As I pray for a deeper connection with God, I find His response to my desire oddly intertwined with a deeper connection to my “wounded” self.
God is showing me how to live with less of me. Honestly, though, it doesn’t always feel like there is more of God.
The pain of grief shows us the depth of our love for what we’ve lost. If it can teach us about love, surely it can teach us about God.
God was inviting me to serve Him in a way that I had never been called to serve before.
I often heard the phrase, “This is God’s will.” At times it brought comfort. But mostly, it brought me pain.
Perhaps from an early age, I learned that my parents felt good when I did things to make them proud, and it became a part of my identity.
After years of hiding some aspects of my life, “God I’ll follow you, but only this far,” God finally had me.
“Give my life away?!” I mused skeptically. I certainly don’t have my life in enough order to start giving it away.
It became instinctual to run away from uncomfortable situations even when the pain was unavoidable, unbearable, and not validated.
I fully realize how these thoughts come from a false reality, but they are so deeply ingrained within me.
I had every effort to become the well-mannered and studious son in hopes it would change things.
I have not known that I felt invisible until I felt seen.
God tenderly invites me to shed my cargo. I do so – slowly.
I came to see that while the other person may truly have issues to resolve, you also bring into your life what you believe about yourself.
What kept me away from God’s true love was my own resistance to myself and others.
I had this urge to work in a mission role for the Catholic Church, but I was not sold on the idea of selling everything to go live in another country.
I can be vulnerable to God because His love for me is agape, but self-love is icky, messy, and hard to do for me.
Have you ever prayed to God for something you desire with all your heart? Have you ever waited on God and it seems He is taking His time? I have.
When I was little, I was always compared to my younger sister. She was the smart, witty, and beautiful one, and I was just plain and ordinary.
Remember that God never stops forgiving; we just stop asking for forgiveness.