Two-Faced.

Confession time.

I’m unkind. And more than a little.

I used to think I was pretty good at loving people, even sacrificing for them. Now, I think my entire perspective is skewed. It’s true, I’m an advocate for speaking life. Over the past few years, I’ve worked to retrain the way I think, with the hope of being more encouraging. And I think it’s working.

A couple months ago, my friend Britain pointed out that whenever I hear people spew cut-downs and make negative comments, I always flip their words and create encouragement. I never realized I did that until he pointed it out. Now, I catch myself doing it all the time – spinning perspective, trying to create life out of ashes.

The point is, most of the time, I try to see the best in people, and I try to see their hearts.

…Except when it comes to me.

I have this tendency to be unkind to myself.

To be sure, I eat, rest, and set aside timefor fellowship. But those things are easy. My stomach reminds me to eat, my body reminds me to sleep, and my heart looks forward to being with good friends.

My inner life, on the other hand, is incredibly high-maintenance in comparison.

Reminding myself to eat is way easier than reminding myself not to compare myself to other people. Sleeping comes more naturally than hoping, desiring, or dreaming. And I’d rather spend time encouraging other people, than encouraging myself.

I slipped into some negative thought patterns last year, and my self-esteem took a hit. It began in baby steps. I’d make a small mistake, and suddenly I had tunnel vision. I did nothing but blame myself. “If only I’d been [insert positive adjective here], things would have been different.”

Later, friends would pull away and I’d think, “Man. If I were truly special, they’d still want to be around me.” Or, “If I really matter, why don’t they miss me?”

Soon, “I guess I’m not a good enough friend,” would begin to run through my mind.

Then, I got a major perspective shift.

One day, not too long ago, I listened to a friend beat themselves up over a mistake. Arguably it was a small error, an accident, but they didn’t see it that way. The mistake consumed them, dictating the way they perceived themselves. A burdened look passed across their face. And then they whispered, “I hate myself.”

I felt like someone had punched me in my diaphragm. Hearing my friend say that literally caused me pain. And I had the thought, “God. This must literally break your heart.” Because as much as I love my friend, their Father loves them so much more. The amount of pain I felt was surely magnified by God’s good, infinite heart.

And that one moment sparked a change in me.

I’ll be the first to admit – and I believe this is true for all of us - there are days when I feel I have no great purpose or value. It’s just that my life is so small. It’s hard to think anything magnificent could come from something so ordinary.

But I have Jesus. And didn’t He die for me? Doesn’t that fact alone prove He thinks I’m “worth it?” And if He thinks so, really, who am I to tell Him He’s wrong? Now, I see that’s what I’ve been doing all along - telling Jesus He’s wrong about me. Because, while I don’t think I have ever hated myself, there are plenty of days when I’ve disliked myself, or – perhaps worse - merely tolerated myself.

Now I know that’s wrong of me, and even selfish. The world is so much bigger than my temper tantrums, self-deprecation, and wallowing. Gotye was onto something when they wrote, “You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness.” (You have that song stuck in your head now, don’t you? :P.) I’m done with this form of gluttony. To quote a poet: I’ll not carrion comfort, anymore.

Because, truly, every time I believe the lie that I’m worthless, I send Jesus Christ back to the grave.

I’m won't crucify Him again.

So… I may have slid down a muddy tunnel into insecurity. But, God’s grace is pulling me back out.

As much as I want to love myself for Jesus, there’s another motivating factor at work here, too. I want my friends to know they are loved. I want them to know they are appreciated, valued, and so very special. But I can’t do that, while continuing to tear myself down. Jesus said, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” - Matthew 22:39b [New International Version, emphasis mine]. It’s only after I love myself (in a healthy way) I can genuinely love my neighbor.

Or, as John Eldredge puts it, “How you handle your own heart is how you will handle theirs.” I want so desperately to handle the hearts of my friends with kindness, love, and tenderness. And to begin, I must offer myself this same unconditional grace.

James 3:9-11 reads, “With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring?” [NIV]

So, that’s it… I’m done. I’m leaving duplicity to Harvey Dent.

I refuse to edify others and cut myself down with the same breath - with the same heart. I refuse to curse myself with the same mouth I use to praise my Savior. There’s dishonesty in that, and I’m over it. I will be real, clumsy, true, and raw.

Will you join me?

Will you love yourself, in order to better love your friends?

But, above all…

Will you love yourself, for Him?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go leave myself a Post-It, reminding me I am loved.

(You are, too. Don’t forget.)


Without wax,

Sarah.