“Naked and Exposed”

One of the most vulnerable positions a person can be in is standing naked in front of someone. There’s no hiding or masking even the slightest flaw.

This semester has been a wrestle for me. God has been doing some deep mining in my heart since November,
and it only intensified as time went on. I’ve experienced a lot of freedom, but also a lot of vulnerability, lamenting,
confronting and confessing sin (like shame, lies about my worth, and being unkind to myself). The results have
been so good, but also so hard. When those thoughts and behaviors are what feel “normal,” “right,” or “just the
way things are/have always been” it can feel like a literal breaking, ripping, tearing, and dying to confront them.

And it often felt as though nothing would ever change. Like the roots of these false beliefs were so deeply ingrained
and intertwined with the deepest parts of my soul I didn’t even know where to start. Hope was a small, frail, and
distant thing. My faith was tested and challenged in ways I had never experienced before. I had never doubted
God in this way before. I began to contemplate and challenge everything I believed (not in a disrespectful way,
but sincerely and desperately seeking the truth and some solid ground to stand on).

Is God really good?

Why do I go to church and tithe?

Is this something that is really filling me up and encouraging me, or am I doing it out of fear, religion, and
to appease people around me? Where was my heart in all of this?

Is God punishing me for not going to church or tithing? Is that why I feel so much pain and inner conflict?

Has His patience finally run out and He’s decided to just cut His losses and move on to someone else?
I’m going to go to heaven, but He sees me as useless on earth.

Many will read this (and rightly) identify some demonic influences, and I would even have identified and agreed
with you, but the thing is...they were coming from inside. From the deepest, most forgotten, and hidden places of
my soul. The place where Thomas lived. I didn’t want to feel this way, but I was so tired of fighting and denying
that what I really felt inside. So I took hold of one, mustard seed faith thought, and went with it:

If God is who He really is--a good Father who loves His children, is patient and kind, wants to talk to me,
and all the other wonderful things in the Bible--then He is more than strong enough to handle my questions
and my messiness.

And praise God for that mustard seed.

One, continuous, relentless impression whispered in my mind: rest. Go limp. Just stop. Stop striving, performing,
and trying to prove something. Rest. Receive. Let go. Through letting Him fight for me, I’ve been able to admit,
surrender, accept, and find rest in the realities that:

1. I’m not perfect (and no one has been expecting me to be but myself).

2. I don’t have to do anything to earn or be worthy of love, forgiveness, and blessings.

3. I represent Jesus just fine as myself.

4. I am inherently enough, valuable, and delighted in by Him, others, and the kingdom just being me.

I knew these before (at least theologically and/or cerebrally), but getting them deeper than just head knowledge to
a place of truly believing them in my heart has been a whole different (ongoing) process.

We often don’t realize the hold thoughts and beliefs can have on our lives until we try changing them.

It’s been really hard. A lot of them were really deep, seemingly ancient, wounds, lies, and beliefs that I’ve been living
with for years; in some cases without even knowing it. There’s a reason they are described as “strongholds.” These
suckers are well fortified and entrenched. Designed for a fight. To not be moved.

Through Christ, we are offered life. Life in abundance to be exact, and I’m beginning to understand that while this is
100% true, it doesn’t necessarily mean right away or all the time. The timeline is eternal.

Salvation happens in an instant. Sanctification happens over a lifetime.

We’re just not there yet. Trials, tests, and temptations happen. My mind wants growth to be fixed, like checking a
box once and for all, but it’s not. It fluctuates. It’s a journey of progressively moving away from brokenness toward
freedom and wholeness; to a state of being where the things of the past have less and less power, control, and
influence over us. It’s a process that is refining, requiring patience, perseverance, and trusting God. It’s terrifying
and absolutely liberating all at once. It’s a process; a process that we cannot sustain on our own. Sure, I can push
and push and grind and work my hardest to do all the right things, and I’ll make some headway for a few weeks until
I reach my capacity. Something comes that I wasn’t expecting happens; something bigger than me, and I start to feel
the weight of striving. The pressure pushes down and depresses. I begin to slip and the reality of my iniquity begins
to come into startling clarity, so I push harder, scrambling for a foothold on the slippery slope that is religion.

But I can’t. I cannot do it. But He can.

Jesus was able to do what we couldn’t, so that we could have access to life and power we don’t deserve. We do get
to participate, but our primary contribution is surrender. Surrendering to Him, laying down any expectations or agenda
of what we think it will look like, coming like a child, and submitting to what (and how) He wants to complete the work.
He’s the Healer; the Good Doctor; the Great Physician. He knows the correct way to triage our shattered broken hearts.
He sees every part and knows that the behaviors we are wrestling with are only a symptom of a deeper issue. Heal the
issue, and the behavior will go with it.

How funny (and by “funny” I mean ridiculously frustrating) it can be to know a thing (head knowledge, theology, theory,
whatever), but not execute, perform, or even completely believe it? I have not been kind in extending grace to myself
in moments of failure. Without even knowing it, I hold myself to unrealistic and cripplingly high standards, expecting
perfection and being mercilessly critical for not measuring up.

But, our Father doesn’t sit up in heaven and expect us to be perfect. He gets down with us in the muck and mire and
lavishes love, grace, patience, and understanding in our weakness and failings. It’s scandalous, reckless, humbling,
and a unnerving love.

I confess that I oscillate between awe and feeling incredibly exposed and embarrassed when I experience this extravagant
love. It’s difficult for me to accept something I don’t feel I’ve earned or contributed to, but that’s just how God is. That’s how
Jesus works: we are each offered a gift that we do not (and cannot) earn or deserve without strings, hidden agenda, or
calculated manipulations. It’s a gift offered daily, sometimes moment-by-moment, and I’m learning that accepting it is also
a recurring practice.

The essence of the Gospel is that God wanted His kids back. He wanted them to experience Him without barriers again.
That’s it. He wanted(s) us. Naked, broken, imperfect people with all of our quirks, sin, and parts nobody knows about or
sees but us. Jesus weighed the cost of what it would take to purchase your eternal life back and gladly paid it without
hesitation. He loves you, He loves you, He loves you. Period.

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“Up From the Ashes”

Urban Rescue

“I Am No victim”

Kristene Dimarco