I recently realized why--at least partially--I am so driven. I asked myself if I know God is enough, why do I hold myself to unreasonable standards and demand so much of everyone around me? Why do I stand at the front of the empty courtroom, vacated nearly 2000 years ago, demanding that someone come in and condemn me for the things I hold against myself? “I haven’t kept a clean house, I haven’t loved my husband as I should, I haven’t kept up with my devotionals, I haven’t checked in with my parents in awhile, I was rude today… Hello? Anyone out there in the hallway? Someone come in here and agree that I’m an awful person and do not have my act together. Please.” But no one is in the courtroom. The case was closed centuries before my birth after the Resurrection, but I rail against the silence until my throat is raw.
I thought that maybe this was because I was trying too hard to please other people, and this is partially true. But mainly I do it to please myself. I have high standards and I need to uphold them to make myself happy, otherwise I judge myself. Sure, I don’t like when I fall short from people’s expectations, but deep down it’s because I can’t handle their condemnation, I am not centered at my core. At the root of the issue, I realized that I have crippling self-doubt: I doubt my ability to handle hardships, I doubt my ability to be a good wife, I doubt my ability to love as I should, I just doubt everything about me. But once again, it’s a one-woman show. It’s only me in that courtroom, no passerby’s, no judge, no witnesses. Empty.
Eventually, I collapse on the floor, exhausted. I realize that the battle has always been against myself, and that I’ve been trying to appease my high demands and--in essence--worship myself. I’ve been sitting on the throne and trying to rule, but I’ve been trembling so much from the strain and anxiety that I can’t hold my head up to support the heavy, fake crown on my head.
But the courtroom doesn’t stay empty. Jesus enters, and finds me on the floor, and gently scoops me into his arms. I sob into his shoulder and blubber about not being enough and not finishing my to-do lists, and he chuckles softly and wipes my cheeks like a kind father.
“My daughter, only One Thing is needed. I am the One Thing. It’s always been just me and you, nothing and no one else matters. You are only accountable to me, and I see you as perfect, lovable, enough, strong, good, and kind, because I give you myself. Please, stop condemning yourself. It hurts me to see you do this, and I want more for you. There’s so many amazing things I have in your future, and I can’t wait for you to be part of them. Don’t let yourself get in the way. Please give me your crown.” He reaches out his hand for my heavy crown, and I reluctantly hand it over.
The crown was a burden, and I am able to hold my head up higher without it. I realize that I was practicing self-harm all these years as a cruel taskmaster, not physically but emotionally and psychologically. It was me this whole time; I was my enemy. I tried to blame outside factors too, and tried to fight everyone else (at least in my head, since I’m non confrontational), but it was all me. Because I was trying so hard to walk a tightrope of perfection, every breeze of disagreement or perceived judgement left me teetering and fearing the coming fall. I couldn’t handle not feeling enough, and everything felt like a threat. But it was only me; the simplicity of having one enemy is freeing. As I stop fighting myself, I’m able to forgive and love, myself and others. When I focus on just me and Jesus, everything else is simplified beautifully.
I am enough because he is more than enough, and I can handle it because he’s already handled it, because the Perfect One, the mighty Lion of Judah, lives in me and loves me. He is enough, and that’s all I need.
