Monday, September 21, 2015

To The Fatherless

To anyone who lacks a father figure, and to anyone who feels worthless... please read. I've poured my heart out in this post. I pray someone reads this and finds hope. To God be the glory! Thank you for reading!  

What if I told you that you are a work of art? You may be asking why I would call someone “art.” I took the liberty of looking up a definition of the word to get a clearer understanding. What I found was mesmerizing.

Art, noun; the creation of beautiful or significant things

You see, there is a big issue in today’s society. We don’t see ourselves as an “art form,” we see ourselves as trash. Filthy. Worthless. Empty. This blog post is aimed towards those who feel this way about themselves, or even if you know someone who does. This isn’t a post aimed to put you down, but I’m here to tell you how precious you are in God’s sight.

One of my favorite passages of scripture is something so small, and overlooked. I guarantee you’ve read it before.

Genesis 2:7 “Then the Lord God formed man of dust from the ground.”

How simple? But not really. The word “formed” here in Hebrew is used to describe how a potter fashions moist clay into a beautiful vase through an intricate process of shaping, squeezing, spinning and heating the clay.

Wow.

We reflect God’s power, His majesty, His image, His goodness, His creativity, and His love. We are to be cherished and admired.

I think a common misconception among people, especially young people, is that we don’t see ourselves as made for a purpose. We see ourselves as accidents; people with no value. I was one of those people before I fell in love with Jesus. The difference between not being in love with Jesus, and being completely in love with Him is this: purpose. In the world, you have no purpose without God. We’re just the “walking dead,” roaming the earth for absolutely no reason at all. (How depressing is that?) But, as a Christian, you have purpose, you’re planned. I find that to be so comforting, coming from someone who lived almost 18 years thinking she was a mistake. God saw that there was a need, somewhere, somehow, on this earth. So He envisioned a tall, blonde, silly girl with green eyes to fulfill that need. Whether that was to bring someone to Christ, to change a life, to write a blog to influence people, who knows. But I know that God made me, no, He designed me carefully, intricately, specifically for a purpose.

That means, when I look at myself in the mirror, I shouldn’t see that my hair is in all the wrong places, I have a little acne appearing on my chin, and that I’m gaining some weight. I should look in the mirror and feel adored. I should see that God designed me, He hand crafted me in ways I’m unable to comprehend.

We are regarded with rapturous love from a God who created the air you breathe, who created the eyes you’re using to read this. He looked into this earth and seen that it needed you.

God wants you. He loves you. Do you know how long I’ve searched for a love like this? For 15 years. I was baptized into Christ for the remission of my sins December 26, 2012. Ever since that day, my world was beautifully shattered into a million pieces. I am a new creature. I am dead to that girl who was scarred, tattered, and lost. I’ve found purpose. I’ve found real, ardent love.

I’ve looked for this love in so many different ways. Every thing I’ve came across has failed to the love I’ve found in my savior.

I’ll share something with you. I struggle with not having a dad. A little girl needs her father, as a protector, as a rock. I don’t have that.

This post is aimed to people who don't have a father. To those girls who cry when Father’s Day comes around, to the guys who seek for love in all the wrong places, look up. Your earthly “dad” may have left you, but if you’re covered with Christ, the Heavenly one hasn’t. What I find amazing is that he never will.

I cried Sunday morning.

I cried because I wanted a dad. I wanted someone to love me so much like other girls have. I look around and see young teenage girls hugging their fathers, sitting next to each other in church. He'll tickle her, and she'll look up to him adoringly and explode with laughter. 

It hurt me.

There was a song called “Nothing Without You” that we sang for worship that morning. I started to sing, although there was a pain in my chest. The lyrics are as follows.

“Take these hands and lift them up,
for I have not the strength to praise you near enough
for I have nothing
I have nothing without you.

Take my voice and pour it out
 and let it sing the songs of mercy I have found
for I have nothing
I have nothing without you.

Tears filled my eyes, but I kept singing... until I quietly sang:

And all my soul needs
Is all your love to cover me
So all the world will see
That I have nothing without you…”

I couldn't hold it back any longer. There was a pang in my chest and I buried my face into my hands and began to cry, uncontrollably. I cried for all the times I’ve felt unprotected, for all the times I’ve felt worthless, unneeded. My shoulders were shaking, mascara filled tears covered my knees and my hands. I cried with my whole body. There was so much pain, desire, and hurt in my heart that I’ve been holding in. But the realization that all I ever needed was God, hit me like a smack in the face.

All my soul needs, is for all His love to cover me.

Because I don’t have a father to embrace me and protect me, I have a fierce love for God. I have a ferocious need for Him, simply because He is my Dad. I know that sounds silly, He’s not very often referred to as a “dad.” But He’s mine. He protects me. He loves me. He created me. I owe my life to Him. I want to do everything to please Him. Just like a child would to their father, I do so to mine. He fills my holes marred from my parents. He fills the void that has taken over me. He made me realize that I’m not ugly and damaged, I’m lovely and priceless.

So if you’re reading this, and you feel worthless, or if you don’t have a father; whether he abandoned you like mine did, if he passed away, or if you don’t receive what you need from your earthly father--read these words. Hide them in your heart and don’t forget them. You’re loved more than you can ever imagine. You have a Father. Your search is over.


I have finally found my Father. I have finally found self worth. I hope you can, too.

Monday, September 14, 2015

My Story

What you’re about to read is a true story that happened to me when I was very young. It is a somewhat vivid description of my feelings, and I attempted to portray it here in attempt to maybe, just maybe, help someone else. Thank you for reading!


Once again, we were in the car. Palms sweaty, heart beating faster than the speed limit. There was nothing I dreaded more than this. I had to say goodbye to my mommy again, I had to go into a strange house with even stranger people, and feel this terrible pain in the pit of my stomach until she came back. All I wanted to do was be with her, to go wherever she said she was going to go. No matter where she went, as long as I was with her, I had security beneath her arms. This was the longest car ride of my life. She told me she had to leave me somewhere for a little while, with these people she claimed to know and were apparently more important than me. She said she’d be back to get me, she promised. She told me that there was a little girl across the street who would play with me while she was gone, as if a little stranger girl across the street could replace my mommy. The song on the radio was an upbeat, happy song. So contrary to what I was feeling inside. How could I be feeling so anxious and fearful when she was so calm and indifferent? I could almost predict when she was going to dump me off somewhere, without her saying a word, because it seemed as if this was so routine for her. I would beg her to take me with her, with every ounce of persuasion I could convey from the back seat. But she would just reassure me with the little girl across the street—who was never home—and toys that would be there. But it was never the same. 

As we were nearing the old dirt road, and the song was still playing, and I couldn’t get the lump out of my throat, and I knew the inevitability of my permanent and recurring loneliness, I reluctantly asked what time she would be back. The only response I got was “soon,” the single word that gave me so much false hope. I sighed, and choked an “okay.” Maybe if she knew how much I needed her she would take me with her. I begged her for assurance, that she would come back, I needed any sort of security in her response, something to take with me when she left. “I’ll be here at ‘thirteen-o’clock,’” she said, fake smiling at our little insider, while I was hoping and needing that to be soon.

I got out of the car, happy that I would have someone to keep me busy until she came back, reminded her to pick me up at “thirteen-o’clock,” and shut the door. I turned and felt assured that it would be soon, then remembering the promises she’s made before had been broken, I quickly turned around and started running as fast as my legs would carry. I saw the dust billowing around her car, resembling the hope that was leaving my body, screaming and crying, telling her I changed my mind, praying that she would see me in the rear-view mirror and turn around and rescue me. But, she didn’t. She left me. Again. I just stood there, tears streaming down my face, gasping for air.

I wish I could say she came back, that she lifted me up in her arms and told me she’d never leave me again... but, she didn't. 

I’ve spent my whole life chasing after that car, wondering if it will ever come back or thinking about what I could do to turn it around. Sometimes cars are meant to keep going, sometimes you’re forced to stand there and fix yourself, and sometimes you’re left alone to figure out how to move forward. Many people will reflect on their adversities and talk about how terrible their experience was, and although it may be, I was taught independence and determination. After all, hurt people hurt people. That hurt can flourish into something bigger than you are, bigger than that girl that was left standing on that dirt drive way, and bigger than the person driving away. Bad things happen to good people, but good people can choose what to do with it, how to learn from it. 

The girl you imagine standing in the drive way, that girl isn’t a part of me anymore. I am filled with a newfound hope and determination to move forward. Instead of running after something I thought I desperately needed, I turned around and found a new path to take. I no longer see this world as unilluminated and morbid, but hopeful and awakened. This experience has set a fire in my heart to serve and help people to the best of my ability, to put a light in someone’s eye, and inspire them to chase their passions and dreams, despite the example my mother set for me. I was once a helpless little girl, and now I have a profound hunger to help, to give so much love that I believed that was deprived from me. This restored hope I found, I found in Jesus. He took that illuminated little girl and transformed her into something beautiful. What once was broken, is now beautiful. Patched up. Renewed. Strengthened. That deep desire that was within me, and still is within me, to have a mother and father who love me, is now restored in Jesus Christ. He is my “Abba,” my rock, my redeemer, Savior and King. He lifted that little girl off the ground, into His loving arms and restored her withered heart. Although I’ve always felt second in my parents’ life, I’m first in Jesus’. I was first when He died a excruciating death to save my soul, so that I can now find eternal life with Him in heaven

Thank you, God, for saving me when no one else did.

About Christa

          Words are powerful. They're used to manipulate, to hurt, to comfort, to please, for comedy, and for expression. The list goes on. Just maybe my words written from the very depths of my heart, will be able to reach out and capture those who have immense hurt or I can act as a gateway to those who want to learn more about the Word of God. Maybe through my words someone can find hope. I don’t feel as if I’m a very “talented” person. I’m not exceptionally good at sports, I don’t play the guitar, the piano, and I wasn’t blessed with an angelic voice. But I do know that the passions I have can be reflected so that I can glorify Him. I have a passion for writing, I always have. Something hidden in words give me comfort, relieves hurt, and strings my messy thoughts together. Why not put that passion to use? The name “Broken and Beautiful” derives from my testimony of a damaged, broken girl who finds hope and purpose through Christ. If you would like to read my testimony, you’ll find it on my page.
Thank you for visiting my blog & enjoy. :-) 

Christa Mains 

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