covering up flaws and hiding behind masks

God is taking me on a new journey. A scary one. I have been arguing with Him for the past two hours, trying to find a way to talk my way out of it, but He is more stubborn than me and has made up His mind.

Let's chat.

The past week I have been struggling.

I have had a lot of insecure, "I feel gross", want to puke when I look in the mirror moments. Not good, I know. Its been awhile since I have struggled with this stuff, and it hasn't been fun.

I have never fully been able to accept myself for who God created me to be.

I hate my face without makeup.

In my opinion, it can be likened to that of a naked mole rat. Beautiful, right? Not so much.

My home sponsor, Jackie, probably told me 100 times, "Honey, there's nothing wrong with the way you look. You have everything going for you."

I would say "Thank you." and nod in agreement, but I never believed her.

What comes to my mind when I look in the mirror, more often than not, the word that comes to my mind is rarely anything close to "beautiful."

God tells me in His Word that I am...beautiful, fearfully and wonderfully made, all lovely, made in His image...but the thing is...I have never been able to believe that.

I'm being open, honest, vulnerable, real and raw with you right now, dear reader, whoever you are, in hopes that my journey and struggles can help you overcome yours.

The truth is that I love makeup. Ever since I was allowed to start wearing it (at 16)...I have been addicted. There is something about putting on some music in the morning, or whatever part of the day, and applying my "face"..as I call it...and making myself at least feel beautiful, fresh, and free.

It makes me feel confident and covers up my flaws and insecurities. I never leave the house without it. Not even when I'm going running or to the gym. Sad, I know.

Here's the funny thing.

Today I texted a good friend of mine and told her that I have gotten to the point where I no longer share my struggles with others because I don't want to put burdens on them or be a life-sucking friend. I want to give life, so I don't share my battles. I wear masks. I pretend everything is okay, even when its not. I feel, especially in a position of leadership, that I'm somehow not allowed to have struggles or weaknesses, and if I do...well I better not show it or let anybody know cause that would ruin my image.

What kind of horrible lies are those? Straight from the pit of hell is what they are.

Tonight was one of those nights where I so longed to sit at the kitchen table and spend hours talking heart matters and struggles with Sam and Jackie over a cup of coffee...My goodness, how I miss those times so much. 

I don't want to get to the place of wearing masks and covering up all the time again. I just got to the point a few months ago where I felt comfortable sharing my heart, weaknesses and all, with others. No more masks, no more walls, just me, and that's enough.

I have also received conviction from the Holy Spirit that I need to deal with my insecurities and self-hate before I step into more positions of leadership as a 2nd year in Highlands College. One role in particular which is going to be the most important. I will get to act as a D-Group leader and have a group of about 6 first year girls under me, discipling and pouring myself into them...and I DO NOT want to project an image of insecurity and worthlessness to them and make them think that it is okay to think this way about themselves, because it is not okay. I already love these girls more than words can say, even though I haven't met them (except for one precious girl, Jordan)... and I want the best for them. You do what your see, right? I want them to see confidence and security in their leader. I have to deal with my problems with this before I get there.

Tonight, I stumbled upon a blog via a post I saw on Twitter. I perused her blog and found her posts on a makeup fast that she is embarking on and in the early stages of. (www.melissajenna.com) Well, posted a link to a Facebook group she had created for women who wanted to join, partially join, or follow her journey with a fresh face for 40 days. I went on and felt the Holy Spirit whisper to my heart, "I want you to do this."

"WHAT?! No God, NO. Absolutely not. You.Are.Crazy. I'm not doing it. I did it once for a week when You basically forced me to, and that was long enough. 40? No. Not happening. Sorry."

That sounds a lot like what I told Him 6 years ago about me doing 24/7...and look where that got me. I'm in my second year now. Ha! He is even more stubborn about things than I am.

I argued Him for an hour. Gave Him every rational reason I could come up with.

1. "Aly is in town...I want to take pictures with her! Not without makeup, nope!" "Darling, Aly doesn't wear makeup. You know the talks you two have had about this subject. She would side with me." Dang it. 2. "I have PCOS. My ovaries won't allow me...my face freaks out when my hormones go crazy. What am I gonna do when my face is covered with acne?" "Trust me." Ugh. Fine. 3. "But. But. But....I have no reason not to submit."

The more I argued and debated the idea with Him, the stronger I felt the need to do it.

I made my decision, even though it kills me to do so, that I am going to go the next 40 days without makeup. No makeup up until the day I leave to move back to Alabama for my second year of Highlands College. I took my makeup off tonight for the last time until I leave.

Lord help me. I am petrified. Sick to my stomach? Yes. Definitely.

This is more than just a makeup addiction. This is me revealing my heart for other to see. Raw and real. This is me taking off the mask I have worn for so many years to hide who I really am. No more hiding. I won't hide who God created me to be any longer. I'm done. This is more than outer beauty, this is inner beauty. As I embark on my quest to discover and believe in the beauty God has given me, I seek to allow God to shape my heart into something more beautiful and lovely.

This will quite possibly be one of the most difficult journeys I have ever been asked to walk, but I know my Father will be with me every step of the way, every weak moment, when I fail, when I question my strength...His arms are right there for me to fall into. 

These verses will be my anthem for the next 40 days.

Psalm 139:13-14  "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made, your works are wonderful, I know that full well."

Song of Songs 4:7 "You are altogether beautiful, my darling, there is NO flaw in you." 

Romans 9:20 "But who are you, O man, to talk back to God? "Shall what is formed say to him who formed it, 'Why did you make me like this?'"

Song of Songs 2:2 “As the lily among the thorns, so is my love among the daughters.”

And this song has been, and will continue to be my anthem. "When I don't understand, I will choose You."

from the depths of my soul

I am a writer.

It is more than what I do.

It is who I am.

Last night I had a moment of weakness after receiving criticism on my writing in class.

I felt like a failure. I wanted to take my piece, tear it to shreds, and burn it. Then do it all over again.

I hated myself as a writer.

My thought was, "The only thing I'm good at is writing. If I can't write, I have nothing else going for me. What am I going to do with my life now?"

I texted my friend Kiara, a fellow writer.

"I feel like such a shitty writer. I'm done."

"Maybe I  need to stop investing myself emotionally in my writing and then I won't feel so awful about myself after I receive criticism."

She texted me back and said she hoped I could hear the scream of anguish against that idea from Alabama.

She asked me what writing was to me. I had never thought about it. Here's what I said:

Everything.

My heart on paper.

Its beauty expressed.

Its depth.

Its God's gift He's entrusted me with to write His words.

Its the deepest parts of my heart and soul.

Its life recorded and memories made.

Its a baby that each time I become pregnant with and let it grow and develop and carry, and its painful to give birth to, but in the end the result is priceless, beautiful and worth more than gold.

"You were made for this." She responded.

What she said next hit my heart.

"Why do you forget? What you've been given? And why would we take disregard a blessing by complaining? It is the air you've been give to breathe because it gives you more life than any atoms or molecules could. Jesus was a storyteller. God was a poet. You've been given the greatest gift. You get to tell of God's glory in the same fashion he did. Don't ever forget it."

That's what writing is. The gift I've been given.

I can be so critical on myself as a writer.

As a writer, I am so obsessed and captivated by all things beautiful.

I so long to capture and reflect that beauty, God's beauty, and when I feel like I'm not doing it justice...as writing is a baby I become impregnated with, those times are miscarriages and complications.

I suppose that is another aspect in which I have been created in His image.

I am a storyteller.

I am a creator of beauty and depth.

Its a high calling. Its a challenge, but its my challenge.

I was made for this.

I will not relent.

I will not give up in the times when birth is painful and seems impossible.

I am a writer.

It is more than what I do.

It is who I am.

all consuming fire: the waldo canyon fire.

Exactly one week ago, on Saturday, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw a tower of smoke that didn't look like a regular cloud. I said to my mom who was in my car with me, "Look at that cloud, do you think that could be a fire?" She couldn't see it and we dismissed the notion. My sister called ten minutes later and said "Did you see the fire?" There was a fire in the mountains by Waldo Canyon. Little did we know just how much destruction this fire would bring our city.

I immediately got on my Highland College page and asked everyone to be praying that they could contain and get this thing out fast.

The next few days we lived not in Colorado Springs, but in Smokeville, Colorado. The air was completely overtaken with smoke. It was the same feeling you get when you stand in front of a campfire, the smoke blowing in your face, the smell, burning in your eyes...except you couldn't get away from it.

The fire continued to grow and by Tuesday it was 5,500 acres and 0% contained.

3pm. Tuesday. The darkest day.

That was until about 5pm. The winds hit. 65 miles per hour. The fire went from just being on top of the mountain to jumping down into an area they had thought it would not cross, to begin moving down the mountain and into the city.

The fire quickly made its way down into the foothills, into communities, consuming everything in its path.

The previously calm news reporters became instantly unnerved and you could hear the tension in their voices.

The entire city. I cannot begin to explain to you the fear and panic that was in the air. Every single eye in the city was on that mountain, watching the fire come down, not knowing how far it would go or if we were safe.

There was no way to know what it was going to do, or where it was going to go.

I called about ten people from back home and my home sponsors, Sam and Jackie, trying to choke back the tears and fear that was trying to consume me.

I talked with Sam and Jackie, and prayed with them over the phone for my city, the firefighters and officials and the weather to calm down. I am so blessed by their relationship and the encouragement and peace they so often extend to me when my heart is in chaos.

I went down to the park down the street from my house with my sister, and along with about 30 other people with the same idea, watched this fire consume our horizon. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. The flames were massive. The entire skyline was on fire. Going down, quickly down the mountain. Every black plume of smoke that went up was another home that the fire was consuming. I was watching people's lives, work, and dreams being stolen right in front of my eyes. It was surreal.

My view. The orange is all fire.

I was watching my mountains and my city burn.

It was like Nero's Rome.

I could not believe what we were seeing.

Pieces of ash were falling from the sky. 20 miles from the mountains where the fire was burning. Burned up maps, pages of books, a page from a Bible, a piece of fruit that still had the sticker on it. Things that had to have come from people's homes.

A burned map of Rome.

It felt like a scene from one of those horrible, cheesy weather movies we all make fun of.

But it wasn't.

This was real. It was happening.

This was one of the most terrifying moments of my life. Fires can't be predicted or controlled, at least not completely. It is so scary how fast it can turn on you and enter a path of attack and destruction. All it takes is a tiny shift in the winds.

I thought I knew what God meant when He says "I am a consuming fire."

I had no idea. I know now.

Every day I find myself singing this chorus over my city:

"Let it rain. Let it rain. Open the floodgates of Heaven."

My city needs a miracle. The fire is 50% contained. It is predicted, if the weather cooperates, to be contained by July 16th. 32,000 people have been displaced from their homes. 349 homes were destroyed on Tuesday night alone. Two lives taken. Countless robberies since. We need a miracle. We need rain.

Pray for Colorado Springs and the entire state of Colorado, as we fight roughly 15 fires statewide.

This fire destroyed, but it did not end something. It started something new. Beauty will come out of these ashes. Isaiah 61.