I despair no longer.

In November my friend Betsy and I co-led a vision retreat for the leadership of our church. We executed our best-laid plans, but we could have never anticipated the way that God would surprise us all with the gift of His presence and leading. 

Vision retreats are always exciting for someone like me who lives on her tiptoes for what God is doing next, but this one… it was so much more meaningful. It was sacred. 

Because this was the output… 

Rather than a formulaic strategy or a 5-year plan, this is what emerged: 

A commitment to knowing our Belovedness and to helping others know theirs. 

That might sound soft at the center and a lot less measurable than what we’re used to for outputs for this sort of thing, but if I could capture with words (I wish I could, but I’m certain I’ll fall short) the way that the Holy Spirit moved over our group as we wept at the power of what could change if we all knew, like deep down in our cores knew, just how beloved we are… well, then I could give you a glimpse of this revelation and the power of this commitment (far above and beyond any outputs I’ve ever grafted onto a strategic plan). 

You see, I have this tendency, and I don’t think I”m alone, to despair at my unfinishedness. My messiness… my tardiness… my sinfulness… my not-there-yet-ness, it grieves me and I carry it around like a burden, always aware of it, always working to soften its edges, always hoping to mask it or work so much that others won’t notice it…

And oh, the damage I cause in doing so. 

To myself- 

For whom the despair at my unfinishedness cages and oppresses me… leading to my striving, leading to internal dissonance, leading to a misunderstanding of grace that fractures my intimacy with the One who made me and calls me His own. 

To others- 

For whom my masking causes injury and harm, and who are are robbed of my full potential, as I crouch and shrink back, assured that my brokenness exceeds my blessing. Oh, the joy I steal in relationships and leadership as I despair at my unfinishedness. 

So we wept at that retreat, when one leader humble and intuitive, suggested that Belovedness might be the thing that could shift it all. As he spoke, the sword of the Spirit, pierced through the hearts of all of us present with revelation and conviction. 

Oh, this truly could be the thing that shifts it all. 

My pastor Rick Miller shared these words last week: 

“Self-rejection is the greatest enemy of the spiritual life because it contradicts the sacred voice that calls us ‘Beloved.’ Being the Beloved constitutes the core truth of our existence.” 

If I could take you on a journey with me of where that thought has brought me in the last week, then I would bring you through Matthew 13:33, 1 Corinthians 5:6-7, and Exodus 12:34. I would bring you through musings on unleavened dough, yeast, and hope rising, and I would share with you this poem: 

“Why do I leave here with this unleavened dough, 

Fleeing from another kind of Egypt, 

Fleeing from my unfinished self? 

No. This time my journey will be different; 

I am not fleeing. 

For the first time in my life 

I am not fleeing. 

I came with my unfinishedness 

Despairing of it, running from it, afraid of it. 

I leave with my unfinishedness, 

Believing in it, caring for it, embracing it. 

I am aware of this unleavened dough of my life. 

I lovingly embrace it

And I go slowly; I do not flee. 

I leave carefully, and aware

Tasting my unfinishedness as I go. 

It does not taste like despair, 

It tastes like hope. 

I feel its energy already. 

I tremble at my potential. 

It terrifies me still, 

But I will turn my back on it no longer.” 

Macrina Wiederkehr

I chose “present” for my 2022 word, if you’re into that kind of thing. I chose “present” to manifest my deep-seated desire to stop flinging myself and working myself so hard into the future (a future that I already self-confessed that I’m always on my tiptoes for). That tiptoe-ness isn’t a bad thing, of course, as long as my identity isn’t tied to it…. 

But oh, how often they become webbed. 

I lament that I flee my unfinishedness by running toward a future that requires that I sacrifice my present: my health, my family, my relationships, my intimacy with the One who calls me “Beloved.” 

Self-rejection has no home here any longer. I am carving out my roots right here in the present, trusting that the future that I stand on my tiptoes for will have greater, wider, deeper impact because I stand so squarely on knowing my Belovedness right here, right now, despairing not at my unfinishedness… but trusting in the Kneader who is still rising in me, I will hope. 

Belovedness is the legs to my hope. 

Let us stop fleeing in 2022. Let us come home, instead, to the awareness of the One who is here with us now, tasting all of our unfinishedness, and yet still speaking out “Beloved” over us.

Jesus’ moment of being spoken over as “Beloved” by his Father (Matthew 3:13-17), was the moment that shaped the rest of his ministry. His miracles, his teachings, his healings, his death and resurrection…. They all tasted henceforth and forever more of hope. 

Could it be so with us too? 

I pray so. 

May we taste of hope (not because of our finishedness, our maturity, our best-laid plans, or our strategic frameworks)…. But because of identities firmly rooted in our Belovedness.