18 months.

it took me 18 months to finally learn this lesson. more like 18 years, really. before i tell you about it, i must warn you that this is not an intellectual piece. it's a faith piece. feel free to read it in whichever lens you choose, but you'll make the most of it if you read it as what it's intended to be - a testimony of God's glory. it's a rather long read, but one i never want the internet to forget.

i would have said it started when a close friend died, but the truth is it had always been there since i was a child. my friend's death merely exacerbated the fact. "what issue?," i hear you ask. self-hate. unforgiveness. anger. i was overly critical of myself. i remember 5th grade. we were being tested on some study materials, and i was graded a "mere" 28 points out of a possible 30. i thought the world had ended. i bawled my eyes out. experiences like that stay with you because as a child, they're what you tend to build your entire identity on early-on.

i believed i had to do exceptional things to be "worthy", "deserving", "loved." whatever i thought that meant. it stuck with me. it stuck with me until adulthood.

i received the life of Christ and, even the indwelling and infilling of the Holy Spirit. but something was wrong, fundamentally, with the vessel. the vessel still carried a lot of anger and self-hate. it was subtle, but it was there. and it affected everything. it affected my relationship with God, with myself, with people. it affected my relationship with money. it affected my relationship with failure and success. everything. i was convinced that if i was not doing the most incredible things, and doing them very well, i was not really worth much. damn.

the beautiful thing about God is that while we were yet sinners, He loved us to the point of laying His life down for us (Romans 5:8). so, of course, He kept trying to break down that wall, mend that vessel. but i ran. for everytime He tried, i ran. i wouldn't let Him break this 'thigh.' [see story of Jacob wrestling with God: Genesis 32] i let Him in everything else, but that much. i did not even realize just how bad it had gotten, until i noticed i found performing easier than being true. i would say the right words i believed people wanted to hear. i would act the right way - smile when the situation called for it. i did not know vulnerability. i just knew performance. and, it was easy for me to perform because i intellectualized a lot. an irony, though? i walked in the power of God. of course i did. He's not a wicked father. but boy, was it frustrating. (i saw of video of Instagram - some kids were trying to hoop a basketball into the net, and they failed. horribly. but their parents still cheered them on. and the caption read, "this is how God sees us when we're 'trying our best.'" funny stuff.)

so, i experienced successes, or my definition of successes anyways. life was good. until i was met with a "failure." it shook me to my deepest cores. i was consumed with anger and hate for the person that failed. "you're meant to be better than this. you're meant to be the standard for excellence. you're meant to be enough. you're meant to save the world already." not silly ambitions, but perverted ones. noble ambitions, but the source was murky. (just remembered Zuko from ATLA. still a better show than The Office. you know yourself.)

i failed to the point of more self-loathing. i believed the only way i could be better was to be that way. i was then met with my friend's death. the part of me that believed my entire existence served one purpose - being sacrificed - had just experienced a tough blow. i had just lost someone i promised his father i would protect. i had just lost a brother. "if you couldn't even solve this problem; been there for him; made sure he didn't die, what then is the point of your person?" i never really mourned him for the first few months. i just distracted myself from the fact. i couldn't forgive myself for so many things. well, that was when God started to teach me.

i withdrew from people, hoping to fix myself and get better, so no one sees me "fail." little did i know my healing and growth was with the people i didn't want to see me as a failure. life, very quickly, became a game of distractions. work, football, the gym, running, movies. whatever to distract from the hate that kept swelling over in my being for myself. i wasn't fixing anything. it kept getting worse. God kept trying to help me with this particular thing, but i kept running away. i kept turning Him down. "take everything, Lord, but leave this one."

i came to a place where i lost my wonder. i only wanted to take on ventures i knew i was 100% guaranteed not to fail. subconsciously, i found myself here. i just stopped trying. i prayed, but i didn't saturate myself with the word of God. when i finally came to the end of myself, God began to teach me through His word. i thought i understood love, but i merely intellectualized the concept. i sought help, but i intellectualized that too. so, God taught me His love again. He taught me just how intimately and passionately He loves. (i think i'm good with words, but i don't think God's love is one words truly capture. it has to be experienced to be understood. and even at that, it still doesn't do it enough justice.) there's a Russian word - Ненаглядная. it's a word that describes someone (usually a child) so beautiful or precious that you can never look at them enough. that's how God sees us.

that's how God sees me. some time before now, i was reminded of that same love. that long before i was born or gained a semblance of consciousness, He knew me. (Jeremiah 1:5) before i got the chance to be deserving of love; of grace, it was given freely. with much intentionality, He calls me His masterpiece. (Eph 2:10, NLT) i like to think of this way - the world considers the Mona Lisa an artful masterpiece. it took Da Vinci some 16 years to complete that painting. every diligent brush stroke, hue, intricacy of detail. 16 years. and then, there's me. the King of the universe calls me His masterpiece. that's...intense. if Da Vinci's masterpiece didn't need to do much to deserve His love and attention for 16 years then it's safe to say letting go and letting God love me is a good bet, no? i mean, the Bible literally tells us that we're undeserving of this love, but He loves us anyways, and spares not an ounce of passion. (Romans 5:8, Ephesians 2:4-5, 1 John 4:19)

i mean, i knew these things, right? at least, i believed i understood God's love. but, boy. and the beautiful thing is, it's so deep (Ephesians 3:17-19) that a few years from now, i know i'll discover yet another depth to it, multiple-fold. i digress a bit.

the Holy Spirit made sure to give me assurances of this love too. He taught me through the same relationships i despised because i believed i would fail them. He taught me in the silent of the night. He taught me in His word. He taught me through my friends, my family. every tear, every laugh. every gulp, every tensed look. brick by brick. He healed my heart, man. He healed my mind. He healed me.it's freeing.

if you read to this point, whoever you are, whenever you do, this is me telling you - Ненаглядная. faith is a journey, and that journey begins with a realization, FIRST, that you can't help yourself. "But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, He quickened us together with Christ, (by grace ye are saved;) and hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus..." (Ephesians 2:5-6) For the believer, you can't help yourself "be better." you might be better off re-evaluating and letting Him just work. for the person yet to be saved, you cannot save yourself. believe those words. you can't. it starts and ends with God, and the finished work of Christ. another time, i might just talk about how we mirror the nature of God.

i will share this testimony again, albeit to a larger audience, and i will be a bit more articulate to share a few more details. in the meantime, this will do. i forgave you, kid, and i will keep giving you grace. you, too, are deserving of it. we keep dying to self.