It pushes and pulls, back and forth, a feeling of never being good enough and at the same time feeling fully confident and complete in Christ, a balance that can't seem to be found, teetering on a sharp blade, not enough weight on either end to pull it down.
And I do. I do feel fully confident in Christ. I know He has made me who I am, given me passions and goals for a reason. I know He has a plan and I'm pumped to live the life He wants for me. I'm excited to hopefully intern for Cru (formerly Campus Crusade for Christ) and IJM (International Justice Mission) after college. I'm beyond excited to adopt kids from around the world. I want to work with organizations that fight injustice, primarily human trafficking. I want to change lives, and most of all I want to tell people about Jesus, to share the Love that has changed my life. I know Jesus wants me to do these things, and I'm thrilled to be living and to continue living this life in Him.
But I'm still afraid.
I'm not afraid of death or not having enough money. I'm not afraid plans won't go my way. I am a bit afraid of heights, snakes, insects, spiders, and intense pain. Until recently, these would have been the "greatest fears" I identified when asked.
Sometimes when I write in my journal, words just come. As I write my thoughts, feelings I didn't even know I had are suddenly released and I discover emotions and thoughts I hadn't yet identified or surfaced. So as I was writing, I finally realized and recognized my greatest fear.
Failure.
Not just failing a test, people not liking me, wearing the wrong thing, or getting fired from a job. Ultimate failure.
For this to make sense, let me explain my deepest desire. When I die and go to Heaven, I so greatly want to hear, "well done, my good and faithful servant." It feels almost prideful, in a way, to even dare to hope for those words. How could I, sinful mess that I am, ever live a good and faithful enough life to merit these words? Only though the grace and mercy of Jesus, that's for sure. And while I do not expect to hear these words, I can most certainly strive for it, like one can strive for the perfection they will never fully obtain.
That being my greatest desire, my greatest fear is to get to Heaven and instead hear, "you failed. You didn't work hard enough. You didn't do everything the right way. I'm disappointed in you."
Disappointing God, that's my greatest fear.
I know I can never be perfect. I know I can never be sinless. I know I can never be "good enough" to "earn" my way into Heaven. I know God's love is a beautiful free gift that I can never do enough "good works" or be a "good little Christian" long enough to "deserve." I love that it's a free gift. I love that it is despite my failures and my sins and my faults. It is the most beautiful, whole, unmeasurable love imaginable.
But I'm still afraid of disappointing God.
I know He'll love me no matter what. But I want Him to be proud of me. I don't want to get to Heaven and hear that I read the signs wrong, I walked along the wrong part of the path, that even though I prayed and gave and loved and tried so hard to do His will, I didn't do enough, I didn't work hard enough, I failed.
Fear of failure and disappointing others has always been one of my greatest struggles. I just hate disappointing people. I don't want anyone to be upset with me. I work as hard as I possibly can and then keep working to get good grades, be a good leader, be a good sister, be a good friend. I don't want to disappoint. I set high expectations for myself and then try to reach even higher. I can, to an extent, control that. I can measure if I did well enough or worked hard enough with my grades, relationships, etc.
But I can't measure, I can't even know, if I'm doing well enough for God. I know what I feel called to do. I know what I am passionate about. I know I love Jesus and I know He loves me. I know there's nothing more I can do then give Him my whole life and follow His ways, repent of my sins, pray for strength, and give up my own will.
But I'm still afraid of disappointing Him.
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