There’s a personal little thing in my walk with God that I know He calls me to. One small aspect of my journey that I think much of my calling hinges on. For me, that thing is transparency, He wants me to be see-through. When I’m speaking, writing or sharing in any way, all my communicating He seems to push toward revealing the good, the bad and the ugly. Sometimes people are really moved by the inside track to my heart and sometimes they kind of stare at me and back away slowly. As daboyz say, TMI (too much information). But I’m called to transparency.
I’m not the first individual with a personal instruction sheet. Samson was instructed to never cut his hair. There is no specific record of whether he had highlights.
John the Baptist ate locust and wild honey. And wore some kind of camel hair cloak with a leather belt. Kudos on the kicky accessorizing John.
Frankly, I’m glad I am not Samson or John the Baptist.
I’m just Sara, Plain and Transparent.
It’s kind of funny actually, especially in my writing; people will read some new revelation about the bumpy road I’m traveling and write back with sympathy and compassion. They are sweetly trying to comfort me through the darkness. I love them for it but they mistake my openness for desperation. I’m no more distressed by life than the next person, I just publish my flaws. Sometimes with italics and bold print. When I figure out how to add photos, there will be no stopping the sharing!
I like the transparent part of me. I crack myself up. I challenge myself. I dare myself to share the thing the devil says I should be ashamed of. I am addicted to the rush of putting my stuff right out there and taking it away from the enemy. You can’t hold it over my head if I’ve already spoken it out loud and given praise to God for it all. Ha! Take that you stupid devil!
For some reason God did not deem it appropriate to make me a great singer, which I think is a shame because I know every lyric to every song ever written. He didn’t make me rich, also something I could’ve definitely made great use of. He didn’t call me to the mission field in South America (thank you Jesus). I’m not the female Billy Graham. Not figure skating for the Lord in the Winter Olympics. Not giving Oprah a run for her money. There is an infinite list of the things I am not. But I am transparent.
You wanna know what I’ve messed up? Pull up a chair. Wanna know what I’m scared of? Struggling with? Bad habits? How many stuffed cabbage rolls I can eat in a sitting? (I’m guessing around 6). How much I weigh? How much money I make? What irritates me about the Mr.? What God teaches me through daboyz? Ask away!
I’m willing to be transparent. I get a rush from it. Because it’s what I’m wired to be. It’s how the Creator made me. What I’m called to. What I do because He said so. It’s what breaks down my pride and reminds me who is really pumping the oxygen into my lungs. Reminds me why I’m still married after almost 20 years and not looking at year 13 as a single mom. Why my once damaged heart is still beating. Why I haven’t succumbed to bankruptcy, depression or over-eating. I’ve been denied the right to look at myself through rose-colored glasses. I don’t look good in pink anyway.
I’m not telling you to get transparent with me. The world can only deal with so many of us. I’m challenging you to figure out what your thing is. What does God call you to? What can you embrace about your DNA that will give you a spiritual headrush and give hell a headache at the same time? What’s your speciality? The Mr. plays a pretty bass, sings from his gut, never gets mad. My mom nurtures like nobody’s business and we have threatened to bury her with a soup ladle in her hand. My dad puts on a family soiree better than Martha Stewart. My oldest son is wise and quiet and my younger son is a flat out crazy servant.
And I’m transparent with a big mouth.
What are you wired for? Not sure? Grab a handful of wild locust and think about it. Something will come to you.
Psalm 139:13 (New International Version)
13 For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb
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