Performance . . . it's where I have always sought my self-worth. I
was praised if I behaved well or did a job well done. I was told I was
"sweet." It became what I strove after. To make my parents happy. To get
their attention. I had little else to cling to. I felt insignificant in
every way. I never felt like I was enough. When I first got attention
for talent in art, I clutched at it and forced myself to be good at
it. I made it my identity. It was all I had. Other than that, there was
nothing: I had no personality, I was uninteresting, quiet, shy,
worthless. But art . . . that suddenly gave me something. Other people
started projecting that identity on me as well.
I remember the day I sobbed in my bed because it was discovered that my brother was also artistic - and better than me. It was all I had, and now I had nothing. I was a nobody. I had no value, worth, or significance.
Always performance. Always what I could do. What I could give. I sought worth and love everywhere I could. I was never satisfied. I was never worthy. I was never enough through any performance I did. I always failed in some way. I was so afraid of failing, I would not play games, or I would purposely lose because I didn't want to try and fail. So I didn't try. I pretended to be incompetent. I believed that people thought I was, so I let them believe so by pretending to be so. I hated games. I still hate games. I hate competition.
Performance . . . it's where I have always sought my self-worth. But my performance does not define me. What I can do does not define me. What others think or say about me does not define me. How much ministry, how much work, how much I smile or socialize . . . being "only white," when all my friends are Asian - no, even this does not define me. None of these makes me worthless. None of them give me worth.
It's God who gives me worth. It's God who defines me. He created me for a purpose - a higher, more wonderful purpose than I could ever imagine. And in my brokenness, He saw me. And He loved me. Not for what I have done, or even what I could ever become. I can not be perfect, and He knows that. He loves me regardless. Unconditionally. He doesn't compare me to others, or tell me that I need to be more like someone else. He made me as me.
Performance? I still struggle with it. But He tells me to stop. To give it up. Trust Him and His grace, and know that HE is enough, because I am not.
I remember the day I sobbed in my bed because it was discovered that my brother was also artistic - and better than me. It was all I had, and now I had nothing. I was a nobody. I had no value, worth, or significance.
Always performance. Always what I could do. What I could give. I sought worth and love everywhere I could. I was never satisfied. I was never worthy. I was never enough through any performance I did. I always failed in some way. I was so afraid of failing, I would not play games, or I would purposely lose because I didn't want to try and fail. So I didn't try. I pretended to be incompetent. I believed that people thought I was, so I let them believe so by pretending to be so. I hated games. I still hate games. I hate competition.
Performance . . . it's where I have always sought my self-worth. But my performance does not define me. What I can do does not define me. What others think or say about me does not define me. How much ministry, how much work, how much I smile or socialize . . . being "only white," when all my friends are Asian - no, even this does not define me. None of these makes me worthless. None of them give me worth.
It's God who gives me worth. It's God who defines me. He created me for a purpose - a higher, more wonderful purpose than I could ever imagine. And in my brokenness, He saw me. And He loved me. Not for what I have done, or even what I could ever become. I can not be perfect, and He knows that. He loves me regardless. Unconditionally. He doesn't compare me to others, or tell me that I need to be more like someone else. He made me as me.
Performance? I still struggle with it. But He tells me to stop. To give it up. Trust Him and His grace, and know that HE is enough, because I am not.
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