Evidence

Some days it feels like we are doomed to fail—constantly at battle with the powerful personal voices in our head—one reminding us of our worthlessness . . . and one gently whispering truth.

The louder one—most of the time—seems to overpower the soft. The tenderness, we begin to perceive as weakness. So we walk around—sometimes for decades—believing we will fail. We start to live as if those bold lies in our mind are really who we are. The soft voice—that once told us our truths—feels distant and far away. The carefree life of long ago . . . faded. The child, who once didn’t care what anyone thought . . . is replaced by a lonely soul, seeking for proof.

Every day we search frantically for evidence—of our worth—but most days we fail. Because our expectations of what “love” and “respect” and “success” should be are never met. Even when we achieve a goal, we want more. Our desire for perfection in ourselves is projected onto everyone who crosses our path. Their mistakes become evidence of their worthlessness—their tenderness . . . weak. Even when someone comes and does everything right, we use it as evidence that they must be fake or too good to be true, or stupid for spending time with a person who is so fractured. 

So we keep searching for evidence, all the while never finding it. But we want it. Evidence that we are loveable just the way we are. Evidence that someone cares. Evidence of a higher power—an eternal love that we know we are promised, but can’t seem to find. We search for evidence of a world who will see us—a relationship that will cure our pain, a friend to coax us along . . . to tell us the words that will help us to keep moving forward—a soul mate that we can live life for. Someone who helps us remember who we are . . . because we have seen all the evidence, and there is no way we are going to possibly be able to find it on our own. 

We use “signs” as evidence that the planets are aligning despite our imperfections—and again with proof that no one will ever truly care about us. We are a walking contradiction. We use other people’s mean words as evidence that we shouldn’t let anyone in—proof to justify our own cruelty. We use another’s hate as evidence that there is no one who we can trust. 

The voice grows louder, and soon it is all we can hear. Every word spoken around us, and every action taken by another person becomes evidence of how stupid, fat, ugly, dumb, lazy, selfish, alone, and pathetic we really are. But we don’t allow ourselves to see it that way. Instead we lash out with proof that we have been wronged—never taking accountability for our actions, words, or fears. Always blaming another person for not being enough. 

So we try to hide all the things we have learned to hate about our perceived self. Making us live a fake life, one where we can hardly remember our truths. We hope we can accomplish some of our goals before anyone figures out the “truth” of our worthlessness, and realizes that we only achieved them by accident . . . mere coincidence. We are too broken to let anyone in, but too prideful to admit we are hurting. So we yell. We hide. We push people away. Not because we want to be alone . . . but because we truly believe we are not worthy—of success, of happiness, of love. So it becomes easier to just be . . . because at least all we have to battle is the voices. With no one close to us, we assume we won’t have as many chances of hearing or seeing evidence of the fears we already assume we are—worthless. 

We begin to hate other people for not showing us how to find what we thought they could—ourselves. We fight for more time, more affection, more love . . . but we don’t know how to give it. We want someone to just love us the way we are, but we don’t even know how to love the person we see staring back at us in the mirror. We blame them for their lack of love . . . because we wished we could find it inside. We give them the job of fixing our fears without any way of ever accomplishing it. 

We hear people talk of grace . . . and wish it could apply to us too. But that voice chimes in and says, “Oh no . . . not you. Grace is only for those perfect people you see at church, His love is for people who have earned it. Jesus has given up on you. You have made too many mistakes. You have gone too far. I need you to remember: you are not enough.”

So we hang our head down and wait for the day we can become less broken and more perfect . . . so God will remember us. And every time we feel forgotten by Him, we hold in our hands more evidence of our worthlessness.

Evidence. I want you to ask yourself this one question: What am I still waiting for?

Our search for evidence will drive us. It will send us down dark windy roads seeking proof, fearing truth. It drives us to sit in courtrooms for months to hear the truths we hope will heal our broken hearts. It drives marriages, and divorces, affairs and abuse. It drives anger and fear. It drives us crazy. 

So if you are one of those souls—I have been many times—seeking for someone or something to come and complete you . . . I need you for this moment to stop. That battle in your mind between dark and light, truth and lies . . . causing chaos and contention, and fear—is a lot simpler than we think. 

There are no grey voices. They are either dark or light. The ones that cause chaos are not divine. The ones that bring peace and love and acceptance of yourself and other people . . . those are the still small voices from God. 

Ask Him for the truth. The truth is: You are enough. You are worthy. You are smart. You are real. You can succeed at love, at life, and happiness. And you are worthy of it. You are kind, and deep down you have a warrior spirit that wants to help you remember those truths you were born to live. The battle of your thoughts is just one of the many fights you are going to face . . . but you will not do them alone. He didn’t forget you . . . and He never will.

Keep winning. Live life like it was all on purpose . . . because either way you are stuck here, might as well make the most of every moment. Let other people in—they need you . . . and quite frankly, you need them. It is ok to cry. It is ok to laugh—even if you know what it is like to lose. You deserve joy. It will come in little flickers of moments, sometimes through the pain. Choose the right, even when it feels impossible. Choose the light—He is the only way. He is the only One who can teach your heart to remember . . . YOU ARE ENOUGH. 

(My presentation at A Reason to Stand Nampa, Idaho June 3rd, 2017)

If you get to the end and wish you could see it here is the: Twins song