Unwanted

This post will get a little personal.

I have spent much of my life feeling "un". Unwanted. Unloved. Unimportant.

It probably started with middle child syndrome. I was neither the cherished firstborn nor the adored baby of the family. They wanted a boy, not another girl, but got me instead. I have a complicated (non-)relationship with my mother. Always have.

I grew up in the purity culture. A culture which put a lot of pressure on young women not only to keep themselves pure, but to keep the easy-to-stumble boys around them pure, too. Purity culture was a dangerous crossing of Bible verses on purity and the toxic patriarchy of the church. Yet another way to control and subdue women.

This led me to having a fear of boys, who were certainly out to "steal my innocence", and of relationships in general. I was a mouse, a wallflower, hiding for a long time. I had horrible social anxiety all through high school and college. Talking about myself made me tremble with nerves. Speaking in front of others made me shake so hard my teeth would chatter. It took a long time - and therapy - to get through that.

When I finally got my first boyfriend in college at 21, it was to a fellow student who was studying to be a youth pastor. He treated me like an afterthought. Like I wasn't worth much unless I was supporting him or flattering him. My second boyfriend ghosted me before ghosting was even a thing. And the third one had inner demons (psychological, not spiritual) that plagued him so badly he would zone out a lot of the time we were together, something I later learned was called, "disassociation". 

None of these experiences helped me feel wanted, loved, or important. If anything, they made things worse. I felt more "un". Unseen. Unheard. Unrecognized.

I've always been a little weird. A little off-kilter. I am uncomfortable in social situations where I have no defined role. I don't like crowds. I don't like small talk. I can be intense about topics that interest me.

I crave meaningful conversations. Real connections. Deep, intimate relationships.

But I struggle with the groundwork necessary to build such relationships.

Oftentimes, I find myself more comfortable diving into a book than meeting someone for coffee. I would prefer to write a speech than give it (though I have, ironically, become a sought-after trainer... for some reason, training puts me in a different mode where I can put aside the social concerns).

I think there is still a large part of me, even now in my 40s, when I know myself more than I ever have before, when I have a bigger, broader view of the world, ... even now, I fear I am not worth someone else's time. I fear I have nothing to offer. I'm not interesting enough, pretty enough, polished enough, good enough, ... I'm not enough.

It is not a stretch to say these feelings of unworthiness bleed into the way I see God. The way I see my relationship with God. Or, the way I understand my purpose before God.

Sometimes I think God wants to use me for great things.

Other times I think, who am I, that God would want to use me? I am no one. I am nothing special.

Life experiences validate these fears. People and opportunities and jobs and programs that have let me go, dismissed me, ignored my viewpoint or opinion, or turned their backs on me. Every time I think, this is it, this is my time... it slips away. Even when I write, throwing my words out into the universe, I can't help but feel that they come back void. 

No one is listening. What is the point?

I feel like maybe I am after all, just an afterthought.

There's a book I read some years ago by Brennan Manning called, "The Ragamuffin Gospel". The quirky name refers to the fact that God has a weird way of choosing people. He doesn't choose the ones we would expect Him to. He doesn't choose the most talented or the best looking or the most popular. He doesn't go after the one with the most education or one who's the most religious or the one everyone likes. He chooses ragamuffins - people who are ragged, disreputable, and beat up by life.

Here's a quote from the book:

“What makes authentic disciples is not visions, ecstasies, biblical mastery of chapter and verse, or spectacular success in the ministry, but a capacity for faithfulness. Buffeted by the fickle winds of failure, battered by their own unruly emotions, and bruised by rejection and ridicule, authentic disciples may have stumbled and frequently fallen, endured lapses and relapses, gotten handcuffed to the fleshpots and wandered into a far county. Yet, they kept coming back to Jesus."

This passage resonates with me. I have battled the fickle winds of failure. I have been battered by my own unruly emotions. I have certainly been bruised by rejection and ridicule.

I have stumbled and frequently fallen. I have endured lapses and relapses. I have wandered away.

BUT.

But I keep coming back to Jesus. 

It's like Simon Peter said when challenged by Jesus, will you leave me too? "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life." (Jn 6:68)

There is no one else. Nothing else. 

Only Jesus.

And if I am to believe* what He says in His Word, I am not an afterthought to Him.

In God's eyes, I AM wanted. I AM loved. I AM important.

Sometimes that's hard to accept.

Other times, it seems too easy.

If God loves me, wants me, accepts me, then God can use me. 

I may be a ragamuffin. I may be socially awkward. I may not be perfect. 

But I am willing.

I am able.

Here I am, Lord. Send me.

*Reminds me of these words from Lauren Daigle's song, "You Say":

You say I am loved when I can't feel a thing
You say I am strong when I think I am weak
And you say I am held when I am falling short
And when I don't belong, oh You say I am Yours
And I believe
Oh, I believe
What You say of me
I believe