(Contributed by Osheta Moore. Read more about our writers here.)
Keep me safe, my God,
for in you I take refuge.
5 LORD, you alone are my portion and my cup;
you make my lot secure.
6 The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely I have a delightful inheritance.
Last November, God open a door for my husband to pastor at a church that meets in Downtown LA. We were recovering from a “failed” church plant in Boston and praying about what’s next when a friend my husband met at a church planter’s conference encouraged him to submit his application for an associate pastor position at his church. At first, we were so unsure. But after we visited the church for a combined interview, we knew New City Church of Los Angeles was the place for our family. They offered him the job a week later. He accepted and we sent him ahead of our family to start his new position. Six weeks later, he came back to Boston, to help up load up the moving van we embarked on a three week road-trip we affectionately called, “From Boston to LA”.
Although this was a good move for us, we’re in that thrilling (and frankly) scary season of transitioning to a new community.
For one thing, new friends have to be made and I find myself struggling with that more often than not. Everyone seems so put together and thin and tan and well dressed here in SoCal.
There’s one mom I know whose teens actually do daily devos ON THEIR OWN. In the morning. And here I am paying my 12 year old an allowance to read his “One Minute” Bible. Failure.
Never have I been more tempted to play the comparison game before.
When I brush up against these super moms, I have the same terrifying thought every time, “Oh I hope they like me. I should (insert some absurd standard to prove that I’m good enough like dressing better or posting an amazing picture on Instagram)...maybe I’ll impress them.” A people pleaser to the bone, I’m prone to find my identity in what other people think of me. Yet, every time I start to compare myself, my looks, my marriage, my home, my mothering to another women, I feel ashamed. Shouldn’t I, a pastor’s wife, know better than to compare? Haven’t I been a Christian long enough to know that Jesus and Jesus alone is all I need?
Shame is an incredible instigator, but it’s a terrible motivator.
I love what Dr. Brene Brown says about shame.
“Shame is the intensely painful feeling that we are unworthy of love and belonging.”
The Psalm above paints a completely different picture of God, one who gives us good things, one to whom we belong to, and one who desires to keep us safe even from our own insecurities. .
Once I began to draw my sense of worth from God, I began to experience gratefulness and acceptance of who I am, right this moment. I began learning to love the woman, wife, and mom I am, not the one I wish I were.
I have to daily choose to draw my sense of worth and identity from God. He made me, knows my quirks, know my sins, and still desires to draw near to me. He is the everlasting God. Never to be consumed, never to fall apart, never to tire of my need for Him, and never to change in His perfect love for me. When I compare this to what the world has to offer, I can’t help but echo the psalmist in Psalm 142, “I cry to you, O LORD; I say, "You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living."
Photo Credit: Zsuzsa
Originally Published 2/17/2016
