“Why do I never feel like I belong? Or I feel like I belong in all the wrong places.
Reason and emotion do not always come as a package deal in my mind, especially at night. I find it difficult to connect the two when every doubt in my mind come compulsively over and over, not filling a void but reassuring me that one still exists, reminding me that I have a front that I wish were closer to my reality. When secrets and sorrow are too close it becomes a smother poultice, a false remedy, soothing because it lulls me back to a place where I feel isolated from others, from God. I am labeled: whore, addict, thief, liar, hypocrite. And these are all only from myself, only what my human mind uses to keep me feeling desperately alone.”
You were bought at a price. – 1 Corinthians 7:23
But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect. No, I worked harder than all of them–yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me. – 1 Corinthians 15:10
Christ has paid the ultimate price to add me into his family. He gave more than 12 goats, more than money, more than letting me marry his cousin. He went to God and after a brief discussion they agreed that he would die in my place so that when the time comes I will be with him forever. Jesus Christ decided to do that for me. Now I am called daughter, beloved, and new by his blood.
This is the reason I get up in the morning, because I have the hope and faith that Christ has big plans for me that don’t include sitting in my room and thinking about sweeping the floor, but it’s so very hard to remember sometimes. I find my mind wandering to the wrong side of danger all the time, and it’s hard to harness. It’s easy to remember the worst things I’ve done and to feel compelled to explain to others why I’m not actually fit to be around them, that I’ve been tainted by the sick things of the world and that I still have to struggle with some of the things that don’t want to be left in the past.
When I feel I don’t belong I should not dwell on the pit my mind creates but find the Living Word in my hear, recall what he has said about love and salvation. And that is so hard for someone like me. I feel every part of me is a bit off, too much of something, too little of something, no place I call home, too much guilt. But Christ didn’t die for anyone who was already perfect. He died for all so that through his blood, by dropping my sham of a life and placing it at his feet he can create a new life for me, a whore, addict, liar, thief, hypocrite. There is no hope but for what he promised to do with my sad little life.
I have decided that there must be some reason, some purpose, for each and every part of my life and experiences. I think of the story from Luke 7, of the woman who washed Christ’s feet with her tear and poured perfume on his feet. When he spoke of her he said “I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven–for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little.” I don’t know if I did it to myself or if it took me a period of indulging my sinful self to understand these things, but I hope more than I can articulate that my understanding of how much is forgiven of me will help me to minister to those that feel they have too much sin to be forgiven. I hope that my feelings of not belonging anywhere or only in the wrong places will give me the ability to find myself in places others wouldn’t feel comfortable. Perhaps I will be able to show those who others can’t quite reach that I know what it’s like, I understand how it hurts. And someday I will be able to create a place where I know I belong, have a real home of my own, that I can use to show God’s love and kindness just by opening the door and welcoming others in.