After my last post, I had a few requests for a Part 2.  To give a grand reveal for what I said “well crap… but yes” to.  I hesitated because it feels so insignificant.  A big, scary deal to me, yes, but a really tiny deal in the grand scheme of things.

But then, a few days ago, a dear friend of mine texted me these sweet little words:

“What’s your deal?  Why’d you write such a cryptic blog??”

I happen to know this particular friend quite well.  And when you know friends well, there’s no guesswork in deciphering the underlying tone of their texts. This one happened to read as “ohmygosh Catherine, you have become That Cryptic-Facebook-Status-Posting-Girl so you better stop asap or else.”

Because I don’t want to know what the “or else” entails, let me just put it out there: I said yes to speaking.  At a thing.  A parenting thing.  A thing about rest and parenting and ohforthelove, (a) I don’t speak at things and (b) can there be any topic on earth that I struggle with more?

God really has a sense of humor.

So, that’s it.

But not really.  Because there’s also this thing happening in the mess of my heart.  As I’ve stepped out in faith, waving God down with my “Oh hey, God!  I’m right here!  Send me!  Use me!”- as I have recently taken small step after step of obedience in different arenas- the voices keep getting louder:

You’re not good enough.

They’re all laughing at you.

Who are you to talk about faith?  You’ve got so far to go.

She’s more capable than you.

You’re just a poser.

You’re not smart enough.  Eloquent enough.  Godly enough.

You’re crazy.  Your passion is too much.  This is all too big and hard for you.

You’re inadequate.

Just last night, I spouted these off to Matt, one after another.  (After decades of hearing these voices and believing these voices, reciting them back comes pretty easily, you know.)  And then, tears dripping down my cheeks, I got angry.  “I just hate this,” I said.  “I KNOW these are all lies.  Lies straight from the devil himself.  I know the truth, but I keep believing the lies!  Why??”

I believe there is nothing more the “father of lies” (John 8:44) wants than to incapacitate us with falsehood.  To convince us that we have no business doing God’s work.  That God can’t use our sinful selves.  Our broken stories.

I guess it comes down to this- I have a choice.

Option 1: I can believe the father of lies.  The one who says “you’re not enough, so stop trying.”

Or, there’s Option 2: I can look to the One who makes the audacious statement, “I am the way and the truth and the life” (John 14:6).  And if I believe that- really believe that He embodies all truth- then I also have to buy into His promise that His power “is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).  I have to ditch the lies, stop navel-gazing at my own inadequacies, and “fix [my] eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2).

I choose option 2.  I choose to believe truth.  I choose to believe that, no matter how vulnerable and out of control I feel as I step out in obedience, at least I’m stepping alongside a God who intimately knows my hesitations and misgivings.  Who knows better than the best that it’s true- I really AM NOT enough.  Not enough apart from Him at least.  I choose to trust that God can take my humble offering of an imperfect life and sometimes-shaky faith and can use it.  That he can use even me.