I am tired of apologizing for who I am. Sorry, I am not sorry.
I was not made to live up to someone else’s expectations, stretching myself to reach the bar that has been set high by an idealistic world. I was not made to meet another’s needs, expectations or wants. I was not made to be less, or made to be more or made to be stuffed into a mold. I am not here to satisfy another’s void or created to look a certain way. I am not a standard to measure up to, or measure against. I am not another statistic. I wasn’t made to feel sorry for, or to improve. I wasn’t made to look at or lust after or compete with. I was not made to victimize or accommodate. I am not made to make another comfortable or to be comfortable.
I was made with intension, and yet I have been living as though I haven’t. I have been living in bondage, apologizing when friends, family, loved ones were disappointed with who I am. I apologized and and then proceeded to feel sorry for who I am.
My Creator cries when my heart agrees and apologizes for who I am. He did not create me to cater to another. No, He made me with the utmost attention to detail. His heart breaks when I look in the mirror and the labels hang off of me like a discarded name-tag. I push them on with each agreement, making them stick, somehow believing they will help me identify myself. He whispers to me “Erin, you, are fearfully and wonderfully made, praise me for how you were made.” Am I? So quickly I reject. I reject myself and refuse to praise, I reject His creation.
I live as though I ought to be fearful because I was made.
Fearfully. Maybe. I fearfully agree with the comments of others. Fearfully agree that I am “too much”, “too intense”, “too deep”. Fearful that my deep concern and care for others overwhelms and pushes people away. Fearful that my light-heartedness and playfulness is dismissed as immature. I fear my laughter is too loud and my comments will offend. I fear. I fear that the intensional creation I am is too much, but not enough. That I am discardable commodity and defined by what I can give, who I am or where I have been. I fear that my value is measurable and a quantity that disappoints. I fear rejection.
I fear my own creation.
But this is not what He meant when He said fearfully.
Wonderfully. My Creator says wonderfully. My deep compassion for others and need for authentic connection was intensional. It is not.too.much. My intensity and willingness to ask tough uncomfortable questions was not an accident. The way my brain thinks about things, contemplates and longs to understand was not a manufactures error. It was with His delight that I would long to know and seek answers. My silliness and need for laughter brings Him joy. He smiles at my outbursts of laughter and childlike humor. He created my intense emotions and deep desire to be known. He created my desire to know others, console, encourage and delight in their gifts.
I live between the tension of the fearfully and wonderfully. In a confused tension of worldly fear and reverent awe of His workmanship. As I strip off the name tags, I can see His marvelous works in Me behind what I thought defined me.
I gaze upon the masterpiece that He sees, unobstructed by lies.
Fearfully is meant to cause reverence to the One who crafted me. To fall down in awe at the ways he created me. Not because of something I have done but because of the very work of His hands.
So I am not sorry for how I was made. I was made with deep intension and total purpose. Though others may not see it as such, I will not apologize. I refuse to live my life for the pleasure of humanity. Instead I will fix my eyes on Him, and praise His name. For I am in awe of how fearfully and wonderfully made I really am.
“I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well.” Psalm 139: 14