Last night, I was in a terrible funk and a dark place and my mind was reeling with the hurts and pains and the internal hell I’ve been suffocating through since I returned from Haiti. With all the words screaming to get out but muffled by the pressure to maintain this image of perfection, I began to fantasize what I would say if I could just boldly speak and write the truth.
What would I say if I admitted, “I’m not okay?”
What would I say if I could tell the world what’s going on inside of me?
What would I say if I could boldly speak up about what happened to me?
What would I say that could reveal the truth about hearts of those that have hurt me so deeply yet continue to proclaim Jesus’ name as if He was okay with trampling hearts and ignoring the cries of the innocent?
My fantasized words began to flow with the memory of a face.
The face of an innocent.
The words that began to form in my mind were bitter and angry.
This precious child that was discarded and left to die is now a famous name amongst a certain community I was formerly associated with. His smile is plastered all over social media, and everyone who visits Haiti can’t wait to play with and hold him.
The fact that he is so loved doesn’t bother me. I [of all people] can understand how lovable he is. My heart aches for him every day. I miss him so much that some nights I just cry with heaving sobs as my empty arms cradle a cold pillow instead.
The part that makes me furious is the fact that this obsession with this little guy – this so-called “love” for him – didn’t begin until after a miracle happened in him.
No one scrambled to hold and love him before he cracked his first smile.
Where were all these people when he was dirty, with bugs crawling in his dirt-and-wax-caked ears, soaked in his own urine and feces…when he couldn’t hold down his food, heaving and choking with every bite, drenched in a clammy sweat, his body rigid with tension, screaming in frustration and battle for life?
Where were they then??
Who loved him THEN????
As these words surged through my mind and I felt my heart burn with passion, I heard what I only know to be truth in a moment of clarity.
GOD loved him then.
This truth struck and pierced my heart so deeply, I felt it burning hot, matching the tears that began to flow as I sobbed into a towel to attempt to muffle my cries.
You see… I am Frensky.
I am a mess.
I am dirty. I have been abused and forgotten. I have been painfully unloved.
The pain of such a vivid awareness of my sin combined with the cries of my soul protesting the abuse against me and the failures of those who were supposed to love and protect me have all tempted me to believe the lie that God doesn’t love me.
Sometimes it’s so hard to believe that He loves me.
What makes Frensky’s story so beautiful and magnetic is the work that God has done in him. The healing that took place. True, he’d still be an attractive, sweet little guy even if nothing bad had ever happened or he’d been born healthy to a loving mother… but his story and his life bring so much more glory to God because that wasn’t the case. Because once upon a time… he wasn’t okay.
So with that parting of the clouds for just a brief moment in time, I try to hold on to the truth that’s been revealed.
It’s okay that I’m not okay.
It’s okay that I’m not perfect.
I will never be.
I can surrender the pressure to be or speak or act a certain way and just admit, “I’m not okay.”
Because someday, when I can breathe again without the crushing weight of sins and abuse and abandonment on my chest… when the clouds have parted and I can clearly see that He does love me and did all along… when I no longer carry this burden I’ve felt my whole life to live up to this label and expectation of perfection… it will be obvious that what made me okay was not anything that I did.
It will be obvious that the only thing that EVER makes me okay is that Jesus was perfect for me.
So for now, as I trust that He’s healing and making me new, I will breathe a little easier, relax the tension in my neck, fall into His arms, and confess, “I’m not okay.”