Let the Truth Be Louder

“How do you forgive yourself?”

A few seconds passed. No one moved to answer. My mind was forming a response. Talking in front of a group is not an activity I relish, but I knew I was going to speak up this time. I didn’t have all the answers, but I had hope and my own experience to share. I raised my hand, crossed the room, and sat facing the woman who had spoken, our knees nearly touching.

Her eyes locked with mine for a brief moment, searching for answers. The weight of disappointment and rejection were visible in her posture. She was at the end of her rope. She was searching for a sliver of hope.

We were strangers, she and I. Two people among a few dozen sharing space at a personal development retreat that weekend. But when she asked her question, I recognized myself in her. We shared this cyclical battle.

“I can only tell you that I’ve struggled with this same question for a long time,” I said. “You know all those voices in your head? The ones that say you aren’t good enough, that you’ve messed up, that you’ve wasted your life? Those voices that tell you that you have nothing to offer? The voices that say this is how it will always be, that nothing will ever change?”

She nodded.

“Would you ever say those things to your friends?” I asked. “Would you abuse your friends with harmful words the way you beat yourself up?”

She shook her head slowly.

“No, you wouldn’t,” I agreed. “I wouldn’t either. When I realized that I needed to speak to myself as kindly as I speak to my friends, I became more compassionate with myself. I needed to talk to myself the way I would talk to a friend.”

Her eyes were locked on mine now as she hung on my words.

“Spend more time telling yourself things about yourself that are good, and right, and true than telling yourself lies,” I urged. “Remind yourself that you’ve had victories, too.”

I leaned in to hug her, then returned to my seat, silently praying for her as I went.

Maybe you, too, have wrestled with a failure in your past that clings to you. Perhaps you’ve tried to forget about it, tried to bury it, tried to shove it in a box in the back of your life’s closet. Maybe you feel ashamed, broken, wasted, washed-up, or unworthy. Maybe you’ve lost sight of the love, joy, peace, creativity, and value you bring to the world just by showing up as yourself.

Can I gently remind you that you are enough just as you are? You are more than the lies you tell yourself.

Your Creator’s gaze rests on you lovingly, even when you feel like you’ve disappointed him. When you don’t measure up to the world’s standards, his eyes still shine bright with pride that you are his daughter. He sees more than the times you’ve tripped and fallen.

He sees the absolute best version of you—the woman he created and redeemed you to be. And he is proud of you. Every time you choose to stand back up, he’s there to offer his hand. He never left. He’s just been waiting patiently for you to reach for him.

You don’t need to replay all the ways you’ve messed up. Instead, let him whisper reminders of how you have displayed his creativity by living fully as he intended. Let him bring the things you’ve done well to mind. Ask him to heal the wounds that the enemy has deeply etched into your identity.

When it comes to the things we allow our minds and hearts to dwell on, Philippians 4:8 tells us to think on things that are “just,” “pure,” “lovely,” and “commendable” (ESV, paraphrased). Another version of the verse puts it this way: “Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious – the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse” (The Message).

Consider the best, not the worst.

Ruminate on the beautiful, not the ugly.

Praise rather than curse.

Hold yourself tenderly, dear sister. Fill your mind with this truth: you are a beautiful reflection of our Father’s creativity, and as such, you are more than enough, just as you are.

And when you find yourself sitting with a sister whose head hangs in defeat, speak up. Help her remember the compelling, gracious, authentic, reputable truth of who she really is, who she was created to be. Shout the truth of your redeemed identities together.

Let the truth be louder than the lies.

Ticcoa Leister is a Texas transplant with Carolina roots. An introvert who survived her Worst Best Year on a 23,461-mile road-trip, she’s finally learning to live outside her comfort zone. Not only a writer, Ticcoa also enjoys launching books, browsing bookstores, cooking, binge-watching Friends again, and sitting by the water. Ticcoa hopes that by living her best life, she’ll inspire others to do the same. Connect with her at her website or on social media: Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

Photograph © Hian Oliveira, used with permission