Dear Younger Me

Dear Younger Me,

If we were to meet up for coffee to chat about your future, I know—I just know—you’d look at me through eyes tinted with green. Because there I’d be, living out the dreams just bursting in your heart—married to your first love, raising three beautiful children with him, and working a job that God seemed to have hand-picked just for you. You’ll be convinced that life is perfect. And for the most part, I’d agree with you. The Lord has blessed you immensely, and this life is so, so fun.

But I’d have to let you in on a little secret.

Your idyllic childhood?

It didn’t fully prepare you for some of the hurts you’ll encounter along the way and the lies you’ll need to combat.

Not that I would change a thing about your childhood because it was…well, idyllic! Full of love and laughter and warmth that fostered an environment for you to blossom into the young woman God designed you to be.

But the reality is, growing up comes with growing pains.

And while I’d be tempted to tell you what you should do to avoid that pain, the reality is that the pain has brought the most beautiful growth into your body, mind, soul, and spirit. So, without spoiling everything for you, here are the three things I’d tell you as we sat across from each other with our hands wrapped around steaming cups of white chocolate mocha (because some things never change!).  

Your worth is not defined by what you do.

So stop trying to do everything everywhere all at once. God has wired you to find an incredible amount of satisfaction in achieving—of checking things off your to-do list—especially in the company of other hard-working people. You love the sense of camaraderie found in working towards a common goal with a group of people.

But you also love the sense of importance that often trails behind those activities like a shadow.

And who wouldn’t? Your whole life you were rewarded for putting forth your best effort and producing something of value from those efforts. Beaming under the praise you received, you continued to rise to the occasion as the tasks grew in complexity, and people quickly learned that they could trust you to get the job done, no matter what that job was. You were entrusted to do big things, and you never shied away from a challenge because nothing felt off limits to you, and because you could never seem to get enough of that “crossing the finish line high” that comes with each new achievement, not to mention the applause others have been quick to shower you with after crossing each finish line.

It’s no wonder you ended up as a distance runner!

The problem is, you’ve struggled to incorporate one of the most important aspects of distance running into your achievement-driven lifestyle.

Rest.

And you’ve allowed the praise of others to become a dangerous idol in your life, seeking satisfaction in your inclusion of groups and teams doing great things in God’s name but that often distract you from what you need most.

God!

You’ll be confused when God starts saying “no” to your desire to do good things in His name with the people you want to partner with in doing them. You’ll watch with envy as they achieve what you wanted to achieve, and, secretly, believe you could do better. Lost and lonely, you’ll grapple for the sense of purpose that you feel was ripped away from you but God will keep shutting doors and removing distractions from your life until you’re forced to sit in silence with Him and your weary heart that has been running on empty for far too long can finally hear Him remind you that your sense of worth comes from the fact that you belong to Him, and He loves you. He’ll remind you over and over in so many small, beautiful ways that you don’t have to do anything to earn His love and that more than He wants you to do something for Him, He wants you. Your heart. Your time. You.

You’ll learn to be still in Him.

And when you do, His voice will be louder than you’ve ever heard before.

Follow the call of God’s voice in your life, not of your fellow servants

Contrary to what your elementary school teachers and guidance counselor told you about the amount of peer pressure you’d face to do drugs and alcohol during your teenage years, you’ll learn soon after becoming a mother that you will face more peer pressure when it comes to your parenting choices than you ever faced to do drugs and alcohol. And instead of looking to God or His Word for guidance on the way He wants you to raise your family, you’ll start looking at the way other Christian parents are raising their children. Insecure and absolutely convinced you’re somehow less holy when your choices look different than other parents’, you’ll begin to seek their approval in your decision-making, not God’s.

And suddenly you’ll find yourself balancing on a tight rope, seized with the fear that if you don’t take exactly the same steps as the person balancing perfectly up ahead of you, you’ll fall to the ground and take your whole family with you.

God will humble you before that happens, allowing a decision you made for the approval of man to completely blow up in your face. When the ash from that explosion finally settles around your feet, you’ll realize you never once consulted God through the process nor considered if what you were doing is what He was calling you to do. God will chuckle quietly as he gently cleans you up and sets you back on your feet, teaching you to seek His will for really the first time in your life even though you spent your whole life in the church hearing it preached from Bible-believing congregations. You’ll realize God didn’t set you on a tight rope that you’d fall off of if you take one wrong step but on a path with many different routes to choose from. And while you’ll still be tempted to follow after your fellow believers, you’ll eventually learn to fix your eyes upon Jesus and train yourself to listen to His voice, and His alone. You’ll still value the wisdom and example of other godly believers, but you’ll grow in the confidence that it’s okay for you to take a different path than them as long as you’re following after your Shepherd.

And you’ll find more joy on your unique journey alongside Him than you ever thought possible.

Community won’t just show up. You’ll need to build it.

After collecting friends for thirteen years simply because you stood next to them in line at school or because you were involved in the same extracurricular activities, you’ll find yourself at a loss for how to make friends as an adult. When friends don’t just show up like they always did before, you’ll begin to believe that there’s something wrong with you. That you’re too annoying and weird and needy and that those friends you did have during childhood were probably only tolerating you and didn’t really like you. Terrified of rejection, you’ll convince yourself you’re a loner who doesn’t really need friends.

But your heart will never believe it. Not for one minute. Try as you might to tamp down a growing desire for deep friendship, it will only continue to grow until you’re forced to address the hole in your heart.

And you’ll realize that if you want a community, you’ll need to build it.

It’ll take time, like any good construction project does. You’ll continue to battle the lie that no one really likes you for years to come. But then one day you’ll meet the people who, a few years down the road, somehow turned into your family. People you’ll raise your kids with, laugh with, cry with, and pray with. People you’ll wonder how you ever did life without and whom you hope you never have to.

People who’ll give you a tiny, delicious sample of what an eternity spent praising God in sweet fellowship with all His saints will taste like.

Oh, Younger Me. In many ways I envy you. You’re just getting started, and everything is new and fun and exciting.

But you’re also untouched by the hurts we’ll soon experience; your heart is still so innocently naive to just how harsh this world can be at times and not nearly as weighed down by the burdens we’ve chosen to place on our shoulders as we’ve walked along this path.

But I have to wonder—would Older Me feel the same way if we were sitting down for coffee together? What truths would she want to share with me from her vantage point a few more miles down the path we’re on? What would she be tempted to shield me from?

Whatever those things might be, I hope she, like I’m doing with you, won’t shield me from them.

Because as painful as some of these lessons have been, they have refined your heart in ways you didn’t realize you needed refining and drawn you closer to your Savior.

And that, dear Younger Me, is always, always worth it.