My tongue is in my hand…

Enough

Posted on: February 9, 2008

I found a poem I wrote in 8th grade. It (along with every other poem I wrote in middle school) was fairly dramatic, but it hit on something, and it reminded me of something. Here’s the main line:
“Why can’t just being me be good enough for everyone?

I remembered that it was this feeling, this feeling of never being enough, of never being what everyone wanted or needed me to be, of never living up to my own expectations, of never feeling worthy because of what I lack, of being good at a lot and carrying so much potential, but never being enough.

It was this feeling that I laid on God’s doorstep with. It was this feeling that left me desperately needing God’s love and helplessly loving God back. Because I didn’t need to be anything better, anything more. Because God knew every flaw and every failure and loved me all the same, only needed me to lay there, right there and need him. And I was able to do that with a vengeance.

That’s what truly kick started the whole thing for me. The real faith. The one on one part. The part that I can’t deny. The part that makes any argument against it completely futile. I have within me, in the very core of me, this. It is, and that is enough. It is in me, so I am enough- regardless of what I, or anyone else thinks or says. That, is something to cling to.

Faith is a dirty, messy thing.

So much has happened in my faith since then, but I find that I am again feeling like I am not enough. That I am making C’s in every area of my life when I want to be A+. That I am failing, failing, failing, but discreetly. Just enough in every area so that if I just made these small improvements…

It’s been a long time since I’ve laid down with nothing, no need or request. A long time since I’ve laid at God’s feet, just to be. A long time I’ve been standing, kneeling, stomping, pleading, ranting, running, and jumping before God. I kind of forgot that what drew me to God in the first place was the reprieve, the acceptance, the out-of-this-world-peace that swells over, seeps in and settles, gently rooting itself. Fluid, but constant. Still waters, quiet pastures. Embracing. Releasing. The feeling that the whole world can crash and burn, my whole world can crash and burn and I will still be enough, I will still have enough.

That, is enough.

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