It's been a long, few years since I have regularly written. Instagram has posed as my holding cell for my deep thoughts, but in so many ways, Instagram has helped shorten my attention span and added to my satisfaction of lesser things. These past few years, it's been a mixed bag of emotions and too many events to recount; yet through it all, I know that God has sovereignly worked each minute detail for my ultimate good: irrational anger, a pastor husband pursuing a PhD, 5 kids in less than 5 years, homeschooling, debilitating anxiety, a cross-country move. All working for my good, all for his glory. I cling to that.
A dear friend and mentor told me yesterday to remember God's goodness, to remember what God is doing in my life, remember what he has done in my life. She asked me the hard, uncomfortable questions you'd rather not be asked so you can continue in complacency. Then she said I should do what it is that I love to do...that brings God the most glory.
So what is that for me?
The question sort of stumped me. Before Jesus redeemed every part of me, I misplaced my identity in all the things, albeit good things: relationships, running, academics, physical appearance. There was no shortage of the molds I could fit and the cast of worth I created. Yet even on this side of salvation, I still find myself tempted to grasp at that which does not fulfill. A chronic case of misplaced identity. And so restarting this blog after what feels like an eternity of back and forth, on and off feels passably scary.
It is intimidating not because I can't do it, but because I fear falling into the black hole of worshipping a lesser god. In this case, the approval of man and inspiring words. Oh the depths of my sinfulness know no bounds. I know I could be, as culture preaches, "anything I want to be," but I deeply just want to be faithful in whatever it is I do.
I have worn many hats that have brought me immense pleasure, but ultimately ended with a self-serving worship and vainglorious uses. But all those titles I can remember, and sometimes look back on with sadness, are nothing. Worthless. Unfulfilling. Inferior. They fail me, they leave me condemned, they turn on me and leave me more empty than when I picked them up. They are not my identity.
But that is what is nerve wracking about resurrecting this space-- there remains the potential to descend into the dark abyss of sin. Placing my hope in, my treasure in writing. O Lord help me, for I am weak.
But if I do what I love, if I do what others have confirmed are my giftings, then I writing is where I will spend more time during this season of my life. Alongside baking delectable breads and devouring books like candy, writing is where I love to sit. I can look back and see the thread of writing woven into my earliest memories. From my emotive and poetic high school days of filling numerous journals with my broken heart (journals that I still have) to filling blogs with endless monologues as a new Christian, writing has been a constant outlet that has been used to shape who I am today.
So if you are reading this because you somehow signed up to get "new post notifications" when I started this particular blog like 10-ish years ago, hello and hi again. But this restart of my blog will remain relatively quiet as I attempt to kill the approval of man. Whether 829 people or no people ever read what I write, I will write simply because I love to write. Faithful in the little things.
Here's to wearing the only title, the only hat that is embedded into my very self and can never be removed, the banner that will wave forever. I am Renee, the redeemed.
** Also, I have grown so much in the last few years, and with that, I know that much of what I have previously written I can no longer standby. That's a bit embarrassing, but humility is a good thing to wear I have heard. I will be going back through my writing and either deleting entirely or editing those articles. Writing is a humbling hobby that grows as you do.
