Translucency

The world is violently crashing down into the pit of destruction yet I am in absolute denial; I don’t want to admit to the reality staring me straight in the face because my heart is consumed by beauty—only hoping what I see surrounding me isn't true. Today, I was reminded of what a minority I truly am; whole-hearted Christians are one of the rarest commodities in this decrepit world. God was right when He said those who follow Him will not be exempt from trials but in fact will be subjected to a lifetime of persecution; the world may not approve but we are not one—I am called to be separate, “letting my light shine before all men”. College is filled with an atmosphere of alcohol, tobacco and swearing, to name a few, yet I am to walk beyond these annihilating daggers, accepting the rejection and criticism as an encapsulated honor. ““You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom” (Matthew 5:10).  “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you.  If they persecuted me, they will persecute you” (John 15:18-20).

Gratefulness can disintegrate in the blink of an eye, only to be replaced with the disease of greed manifested from the seed of pride. The sinful nature within me has taken over as I have been fighting with God; the future He has called me to seems far beyond reach as well as utterly exhausting—honestly, all I have time to do is study yet I feel as if I know absolutely nothing. Miss Perfectionist has been rearing her ugly head as a 4.0 is no longer a reality despite countless hours of study as well as forsaking the essence of my identity.  As seemingly everyone is getting engaged, my selfish heart is filled with self-pity and a child-like dream of planning my very own wedding but then reality hits, reminding me of the numerous assignments due the next day. As much as I attempt to block out reality, the truth still remains that this battle is not mine to fight but the Lord’s; His plan has already been determined and it is far beyond beautiful, despite my overwhelming doubts. At times I want to run away—to make this nightmare disappear only to be replaced with unaltered selfishness; I know that the end will be worth it, as everyone tells me, but why can’t I believe it without a shadow of a doubt? I’m scared to death for clinical next semester because I am but a guinea pig—I have the least hours completed (I've only been in college slightly over a year, earning 39 credit hours), leaving me to choose from the leftovers. Everyone is in it for themselves and competition is brutal; the only option for clinical was the most despised professor and nearly every class I needed was taken—it’s discouraging to be cast aside, so to speak, leaving me feeling absolutely unlovely and unworthy.  “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed” (1 Peter 4:12–13). I wonder who truly has my well-being in mind after being taken advantage of countless times; who can I trust? I know that person is God alone, but a part of me hesitates because I don’t see the potential beauty—I only see the countless hours of tears, sweat and pain remaining.

God, to be faultlessly honest, at this moment I hate Your plan; I hate how time is nonexistent and homework only keeps piling up and knowledge nowhere to be found—confidence disintegrating along with it. I have absolutely no idea what I am doing and this territory is absolutely untouched and treacherous; I don’t know how much longer my feeble legs will sustain my wounded essence. I want to trust You but I’m afraid—afraid it won’t be worth it. I know this sounds ridiculous but I truly am terrified, feeling as if a Great White Shark is five inches from my face, with its mouth wide open and ready to effortlessly decapitate me. Give me patience to wait on You, even when the impatience of my soul takes over. I know that You love me, but why? I am a mess and wholly unworthy nonetheless unlovely; I have bruises and scars camouflaging my existence yet You see me as flawless—how can that be? God, the taunts and persecution of those surrounding me burns through my flesh and bone and a part of me wonders why it is worth it—please remind me of the promises You have made to my very own soul. Blind my eyes so that only You remain; wholly separate me from this eroding and decrepit world. Give me strength to be a witness everywhere I go—let me look like love far beyond earthly comprehension. Shield my heart from the hater of my soul. Give me unwavering faith. Fill me with knowledge when it seems to evaporate—I put my trust in You alone.

As I prepare for teaching Nursing class next week, doubts and lies flood my exceedingly vulnerable mind. Ironically, my topic is on Patient Safety which is at the exact opposite of the spectrum I embraced as a wounded child—safety was the absolute last of my worries. I am once again reminded of how far from comfort God has called me—a life embracing the opposite of all I’d once lived for. As I look in the mirror, a wounded and forsaken little girl stares back at me, fear consuming her eyes as she was convinced she’d never be safe—a girl who had to fend for herself in a world seeking to destroy her innocence. Once her innocence was heartlessly stolen from her fragile and delicate hands, this little girl remained consistently on edge—each touch sending daggers through her overlooked heart, convincing her she'd never be worthy of love. I see a girl hiding in the corner of her closet, with not but a glimpse of light, merely trying to escape from a reality of pain she seemed to be destined for. I hear the piercing screams radiating from the depths of her lifeless soul—screams she couldn't force out of her mouth. I see a young girl so consumed by shame of what was being done to her that it became the very core of her existence. I am reminded of her significant lack of trust because those she’d once trusted most failed to see her heart. I see a hideous scar running down my back—a scar which will always remain no matter how hard I try to hide it. I see this same little girl residing within these scars and picture her as everything she’d once depended on was ruthlessly stolen, including her very identity. I see a girl so inhumanly overlooked that it eventually became expected. When her heart was shattered into billions of pieces, she had to find the strength to move on without letting anyone even suspect anything was wrong. Pain was the one constant when the world surrounding came violently crashing down.