Who Told You That?

“Who told you that?” He placed his hands squarely on her shoulders and turned her around to face him.  “Who told you that?” He repeated just as emphatically but a little quieter and gentler the second time.

She stood, staring back into his clear blue-green eyes and for a moment, she saw herself as she was. And it stopped her up short, as did his question.

“I don’t know…” she whispered, tears threatening to spill over.

It’d been a rant actually. Starting with something she felt he felt she should be doing, something she felt she should be doing, and wasn’t. Then it was her fuzzy hair and plump cheeks, her additional 20 pounds. Her parenting mistakes and unavailability. How no one really wanted to know true her, she wasn’t really worthy of friendship anyway and certainly didn’t have time for one. Did he know she was irresponsible, always a few steps behind the crowd, not so intelligent anyway, and wasn’t everyone just talking terrible things about her? It was gross and it just kept on sliding out her lips, permeating the air, leaving a nasty stench behind it.  Truth is it’d been ongoing for weeks, months even, slipping in here and there, eating away and she hadn’t really seen it.

Her phone chimed.
“How’s your day going?”
Cue inner world download with fast flying fingers.
“Now stop that. Self pity and negative talk isn’t going to help. Look for the good and focus on the good.”
Ouch.

Her head rested in the nook of his arm; he’d put it there. The house quiet, littles sleeping, wood fire crackling away taking the cool damp out of the room, warming her toes, warming her heart. She felt her shoulders relax, her heart slow, the melting. His heartbeat, her comfort, and she starts to unravel some of the inner world, put words to the inner world, and he listens and then says, “Who told you that?”

She opened her book study, glorious autumn light streaming in the window, hot milky tea steaming out of her cup. The print blurred before her eyes. “Who told you that? To walk in truth with healthy bones, every ‘ Who told you that?’ needs tracing back to God in Scripture, and, if it’s incongruent, it needs tossing.”   Her heart starts to beat a little harder, pound a little louder as she reads the exercise “What do you truly believe about yourself? In the left-hand column express to God five beliefs that most impact your quality of life whether negatively or positively.” Then answer in the right hand column who told you that. (The Quest by Beth Moore)

It was time and she couldn’t deny it any longer. It was a time for a refresher, a renewal.  She knew her greatest healing had come in a time where she’d forced herself to dive into what He says about her, pushing out the well rehearsed words of negativity, self-deprecation and self-pity. She’d posted Bible verses all over her small apartment walls, demanding of herself that she read those words aloud before opening that door, that cupboard. It was her darkest time, but when the light began to shine it was so bright, so warm, so life-giving.

She knew better. But she could focus on what she should have known, what she should have done, or she could sit with her creator and dwell on his words and let the light filter in through the darkness again.

… I am God’s child…friend… adopted…forgiven…a child of the light. Free from disapproval… assured of his goodness… bound to his love… a perfecting work of the almighty… chosen…

He tells me.