Loved? Really?

“Where’s my key?!” I let go from N squad’s warm welcomes to Launch and looked around at everyone. Their necks were adorned with key necklaces, engraved with a personal word for the upcoming year. 

Our squad mentor, Stephanie Jansen, handed me a small drawstring bag that contained my necklace, and my friends gathered around in anticipation to see what this prophetic word would be. I undid the string, and pulled the key from the bag.

“Loved,” I announced to the group, staring at the key.

My immediate reaction held two separate emotions: a profound smack, and a tad of confusion.

The confusion stemmed from the theory that the word written in the key would be “burn,” and well, obviously, it was not. It seemed as if “burn” had been the word God kept speaking to me before my departure: that I would be refined in the fire and passion would befall me, and that my shame, guilts, dread and everything not from above would melt away. It had built up an excitement for brokenness and an eagerness for myself to be stripped away in the fire. To learn how to burn for the Lord and to experience the fire of refinement were my personal missions for the year. It had been so impressed into my heart that when I received a key that said something different, I began to wonder what in the world “burn” had to do with anything. 

Second: the impact and profoundness “loved” held.

“Does that word mean anything to you?” someone asked as we stood there. 

“Yeah,” I said, looking up from the necklace. “Yeah, it does.” 

It made way more sense, actually. So much so that I feel like writing a completely new blog series for this small key (there’s a lot), while simultaneously finding myself question if I should even write this blog and post it to begin with.

But here we are. So let’s dive in. 

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Before we get started, let’s make some things known:

Number one: The word “love” makes me go “ew” and roll my eyes dismissively. Maybe it’s because of the pressure that we place on love and the perversion that society associates with it, but I don’t enjoy the fact that “loved” was my word. It’s like when you were little and liking pink made you girly and you didn’t want to be girly so you didn’t like the color pink. You can mature from that thinking, but there’s still the fact that bubble gum pink has never and will never be a favorite color of yours. Love was always gross as a child and apparently I have yet to fully mature from that thinking. 

Number two: I have been working on this blog for weeks. By now, my teams know that this is something I’ve worked relentlessly on, and way too many people have been asking me what I’ve learned on The Race so far. “I’m working on a blog right now that will explain everything,” I’ve been saying. I’ve created several drafts and written over fifteen pages of words attempting to encapsulate the learning process of this key. I’ve tried writing different blogs, but I keep coming back to this one. And I’ve done it, squad. You’re reading the final draft. It’s here. Special thanks to all of you for encouraging me. 🙂

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To preface this key for you all, allow me to share with you a piece of my journal from 2021. At the end of every year, I take an entire day to write about my year, comparing it with the previous one, calling myself higher into the next year and mercilessly evaluating the present. This year, as I sat in my annual spot, I scribbled desperately with tears welling up in my eyes:

“I accept what you said. I haven’t denied much of what has come to my attention because I know it’s true. I own it. But just because I realize what I’m doing wrong does NOT mean that I have to stick around for you to see me change. What of you? Where is your depth? Your faith? Your sins. Your joy? Who is your church? Your foundation of replenishment? Your very present help in time of trouble? Your God. Where is He? It’s not me, so stop it. Leave me alone.”

(I feel like this paragraph doesn’t quite capture the violence of my mindset, but this was the mildest and most respectful blip, so I’ll leave it at that. Anything else and I would be seeking to cause strife and we ain’t about that life.)

I surprised myself as I watched my vision become blurry from the hot emotions I was experiencing. I was angry. I was pissed. I stared intensely at the paper before me, chalk full of words that I didn’t realize I had in me.

I was angry. Not mad. Not just irritated. Angry. Pissed, infuriated, violent. I could feel the fiery glare of my eyes burning holes into the pages as I thought about yelling these words at people. I was tired of having their desperation for me keep me stagnant. I was finished with hearing people’s constant correction of my behavior. I was sick and tired of being their god. Their god that, despite their constant correction in hopes that I would change into what they needed, remained faulty and apathetic. I was exhausted from hearing what I needed to do differently. I knew the posture that my heart had during the year was not right. I didn’t need anyone to tell me– I already knew what I was doing wrong. I had been so perfect for so long and the moment I slipped from my pedestal I was shot with arrows of judgment. I looked up at the place I was held so highly, the place I had sat for so long, and realized that the climb back up led to a seat so uncomfortable and stingy I would rather remain low and contemplate why I had arrows in my back from the people that said they loved me. 

So I walked into the Race, desperate for Love. Not love. I was tired of managing relationships that weren’t fulfilling. I was apathetic towards trying to strive to please others when I knew they searched for something greater than I could give. God calls us to love, and I was failing miserably. Exhaustion ran freely in all of my friends and I. Our own exhaustion projected onto each other and it showed. No one felt loved. No one felt seen. No one felt heard. I looked towards the Race in desperation for a clean start, surrounded by people that would supposedly love me with the Greater Love. People that would hear of my faults, and eventually experience them, yet continue to fill me with life. A new life, a fresh start, a clean beginning… it all sounded like what I was needing. 

I didn’t believe it, though. Could there be such a stark turnaround from the way I was before stepping through AIM’s doors? Could these unhealthy traits I had developed disappear as I was met with new faces? Would I just become… better? People had said, “I hope you come back better.” “I hope you come back learning how to love me better.” “I hope that when you’re done with the Race you can be better at relationships.” I didn’t need to be “better,” though. I needed to be new. 

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So there I was, standing in AIM’s building, surrounded by these friendly new faces, all looking on at my word. 

And I get “loved.”

I snorted. Hah. Funny. 

Something that seemed so fickle to me, and yet it promised that I would finally understand its meaning. 

A word that promised to reinflate me with life. A word that was destined to include severity in the journey of learning its value. A word that wished me well in the long run, yet a word that had tarnished in my mind. A word that, as powerful as it once was, no longer gave my heart any pull. In the words of C.S. Lewis, I had put my heart in its casket, and it had turned unbroken, impenetrable and irredeemable. “Loved” was a worthless term.

…it still kinda is, really. 

I mean, what, did you think that I would know fully what my key meant two months in? Silly. How nice would that be though, dude!? Years of feeling unlovable all redeemed by two months in the jungle spent hacking away at trees with a machete? Nice, sure, but unrealistic, unfortunately. I wish this blog post had a happy ending to it. If that’s what you were looking for, I apologize that I didn’t forewarn you before you began reading. (You’ve made it this far, however, so I’d just keep going, hehe.)  What I can do, though, is tell you what this key has done in these past two months. And so I shall.

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#1: I have learned that this “loved” thing was primarily directed at my relationship with God, and secondarily aimed at my relationships with people. I had hypothesized that due to all of the misconstrued notions I held of people that “loved” was going to be a direct reconciliation of something regarding horizontal, human love, but I was mistaken. I have to learn how to maintain a healthy relationship with Christ before I could even start to truly love those around me. To disconnect from His lifeline would hinder the flow of love between other relationships (this I know from experience). In order to love others well, I would have to draw from the Fountain of Love, where I would never become thirsty. Others’ love couldn’t quench my thirst, and it definitely didn’t taste as refreshing as the purity Christ offered. I was encouraged, then, because the people around me this year were also people who were theoretically seeking this same lifeline, therefore I could trust that if I were to love the people around me this year, it would be restorative and safe because they would be filled with the fullness of Christ… or, at least, we’re all aiming for that. 

I’m learning this as you read, mind you. The first step is self-awareness, though, so at least I can say I’m aware of what I need to do. 

#2: Because I realize my need for the Lord’s Love, I have begun to seek it relentlessly. 

This is where the word “burn” comes in. 

The brokenness stage. 

In these past two months, I have found myself receiving exactly what I asked for: refinement. I’ve learned that in order to be refined, you must remain in the fire. You must endure the flames. You cannot leave the heat and tend to your wounds– you must stay. And so I did. In the midst of darkness I spotted a light, far enough for the flame to come from a match, and I remained on course to feel its heat. And instead of arriving and undergoing what I thought would feel like a blazing blue fire under my feet and  its flames above my head, I felt nothing. The flame vanished. It was void where I remained. The Spirit’s heat was gone.

I was… forsaken. 

Left to the darkness. I cried like David did, lamenting the Lord’s lack in my life. I pleaded for deliverance from an unavoidable and overwhelming hopelessness. I gripped at nothing but my own hands; I heard nothing but my own despair.

Skip to several days later. 

‘They say that God promises to never leave me or forsake me. They say that God says He will be with me. I want to know what God says, not what they say for Him.’

So I searched. I searched to see if what they said was true.

Did God love me? Did He say He would never leave me or forsake me? Did He reach His hand out and I was too late to take it? I had to know. So I’ve joined David in the Psalms, side by side as we kneel weeping before the Lord, “how long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” And yet, despite the powerful doubt clouding my vision, we conclude, singing, “wait for the Lord. Be strong, and let your heart take courage.”

My faith was something that could not be shaken. Even when I thought the doubt was worth following, my faith was unwavering. Just faith enough the size of this grape seed I’m currently staring at, but that was more than enough. The match struck a light once more, and like a moth I’ve found myself trying with everything to reach the light.

#3: God is perfect.

This sounds like a “no duh” kinda statement. “Of course He’s perfect, He’s God.” 

Well, yeah. But have you ever known it? Have you ever looked up at the sky and seen His face and known that the Bible is true? Have you felt the rest that He promises? Have you experienced His loving embrace after not having it for so long? Have you ever cried and had Him wipe your tears with His words? Maybe? Yes? No? Any way you answer, I can safely say I’ve been in the same boat as you.

These past couple weeks, I’ve realized that my faith is unwavering because my God is unwavering. My doubts of Him do not change who He is. My questions and frustrations do not mold Him into something else. My sins do not taint His perfection. His creation does not define Him. He is. 

Yahweh.

And to be loved by that– by a King who deems me a princess, dresses me in pink, and adorns me with love… It sounds like everything I ever hated, and yet… some part of me wants it. Some part of me recognizes that being Loved by Christ could be really frickin’ cool. And so I’m chasing it. Princess life and pink don’t sound too thrilling, but I know there are ways that the Lord will love me that I’ll have to learn how to accept, embrace and reciprocate. And if this Love is really as great as I’ve heard and seen… surely the pink won’t matter, right?