I am not good enough.
What am I even doing?
What prideful insanity has invaded my brain?
What possessed me to think I could?
There are so many better than me.
What is the purpose?
No wonder they rejected me. I would reject me, too.
God, really, how could You have planted this idea in my head?
This doesn't make sense.
Me? I can't even.
Just me, myself, and I on the couch last night with my two children watching The Voice while questioning why I ever thought I had the audacity to put my fingertips to a keyboard and attempt a writing career.
True story. And no, I'm not fishing for affirmation or constructive criticism. Just a little truth-telling on this Tuesday morning. You see, my hormones had stirred my emotions into a full blown cyclone. Much like Dorothy, I was on my way to being swept up in the funnel cloud—a target of flying debris/tittle-tattling lies, destined to be dumped out into the familiar pits of Hopeless and Confused.
Here's the good news, though. This Dorothy is no longer 14. This Dorothy is 43 and can call out my companions for what they are—biological, cyclical indicators of my current emotions. I take a deep, cleansing breath, say a prayer, grab my figurative megaphone, and demand they step away from the controls.
But these lies aren't only whispered when the whackadoos (I name them) threaten to steer my ship; no, these lies can threaten to knock me off my road at any point of any day—no matter where I am or what I am doing. Sometimes, they sneak up from behind, when I'm least expecting the attack. The struggle, my friends, is real.
Have you ever been rambling down the road of life, trip in a pothole, or stumble over a rock, only to notice upon regaining your footing and looking back up, the path is not recognizable?
When (noticed I wrote when, not if) this happens to me, I either immediately shake off my injuries, shine my light and find my way back on the right path or I stop—confusion and fear rendering me paralyzed in the darkness, wondering Who am I?, Why am I here?, and What am I doing?
I have spent years standing still or blindly clawing my way back onto a road not meant for me.
Allow this seasoned road-weary, battered fellow sojourner to impart some hacks you might not be aware of:
1) Know the terrain. The road—on this side of heaven—is shall we say, a bit bumpy? Understatement? Agreed. Y'all that's not changing. No matter how well you've planned, provided, and protected, the world is broken and your road will be affected by the seismic shock waves of sin. Cracks and crevices appear when you least expect it, causing the well-laid route to resemble an after scene from The Weather Channel. We are not Dorothy traveling the yellow brick road, nor are we saints rejoicing on the streets of gold. Not yet. Recognize the broken path and prepare accordingly.
2) Know your Companion. Never believe the lie of solo. If you have asked Christ to accompany you on this journey, He will be there. Remember, He is the light that illuminates the path.
3) Know your destination. Fix your eyes on Jesus, so when you fall, you aren't gazing at the ground; instead, you are focused on what matters—who is in front of you and Who awaits you.
4) Know your purpose. Be prepared to defend it. Battle-weary travelers can be lured off the path by promises of easy-fixes, feel-good fillers, and shifting shadows. Scripture isn't just an ancient book. It's a compass, a sword, and a shield all wrapped up in one.
I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” John 16:33
Amanda Williams is a forty-year old wife and mother of two who can still swing her pony tail and display just a tad of sass. She is also a Jesus loving girl who realizes she is nothing without the One who saved her. Amanda has two degrees specializing in serving students with special needs and is currently working in the field of Leadership Development. She is a Christian author, speaker, blogger, and publisher who loves serving beside her husband at her local place of worship, First Baptist Church of Ocala.