Confession and Clinging.

It's been a little while since I've written a post. I have loved the authenticity of writing for Little City—it has forced me to be honest, and that is something I have come to value above anything else in my writing. For about a week, I had a post written out and open in my browser, as well as a handful of other topics I was considering writing about. But in the back of my head, I was remembering something from another Little City writer: writing requires you to be regularly reading Scripture so that you are grounded in the truth while you speak into the lives of others.

Well. I haven't been doing much of that lately.

And even though the post I had prepared was centered around a Bible verse, I kept asking myself is this true? I was waiting for the gaps to fill—quite frankly, for the moment when I would feel wise. But every time my eyes flitted over the browser tab, I felt increasingly broken. Incompetent.

I don't know why I decided to write to you today. I am not wise. I am not full. And not only have I ignored the only words that could begin to fill me, but I have spent time believing that surely I could cling to this faith because of who I am. I am stubborn and faithful and loyal to the core. I stand by my beliefs through thick and thin—and the majority of the last few months have been thin. I made decisions I didn't want to make, gave up things that mattered most to me, and seceded for the benefit of others, all because of what I believed God says to be true in His Word. Then I stopped reading the words that pulled me through in the first place. And I stopped remembering that I hold on to my faith because of who He is—a fact that a nearly-20-something kid in the midst of peak existential crisis years who's trying to figure out who she is should probably be incredibly encouraging.

I haven't been reading my Bible. That's what I'm here to say. Whether or not you got something out of it, I just felt like I had to tell you, whoever you are. It is important to be consistent to who you are, and that's why I write this. But God doesn't say it's your self-consistency that will pull you through—that much I am sure of. T. S. Eliot broke my heart when he wrote, "Neither fear nor courage saves us," but he was right. I hate writing that line—it says that there is no promise of safety within ourselves (a nightmare line for enneagram sixes, am I right?). But no amount of backbone or courage or determination I could muster up will hold me up through what is hard. Who you are will not save you. Who He is will. Even when we're not sure what that looks like, we have to cling to it.

"My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me" (Psalm 63:8). Things would look pretty bleak without Him, huh?

Feel free to shoot me a message sometime and ask me if I've been reading my Bible lately. In the meantime, I'll be taking protesting baby steps toward that shining goal of complete reliance on Him. It's a scary thing.

words and photo by Kailin Richardson