Make Your Mess Your Message

Recently, I was doing some blog reading and I came across the phrase “make your mess your message” and it stopped me in my tracks. So much of what I have been compelled to write on this blog has been about my walk with Christ and how that has carried me through a season of loss that resulted in losing five close family members in a two year time frame. Although my faith and my trust in God has never been stronger, let me just say that this journey of mine has been messy.

When I first began to carve out this little corner of the internet for myself, I didn’t necessarily go into it with the mindset of using it as platform for sharing my walk with Christ. At the time, my relationship with God looked a lot different than it does as I sit here typing this. I believed in God and believed in his promises, but I didn’t know Him the way that I know Him now. I knew God in the way that I know of the Eiffel Tower or Grand Canyon. I’ve heard about them, I’ve read stories about them, but I have never been to either place and I don’t know about them on a personal level.

For me, none of it truly hit home to me until I actually saw God moving in my life and saw His promises coming to life. Losing five close family members over the course of two years completely wrecked me. Death is a part of life, yes, but I was not prepared for it to come so suddenly and so quickly to five of the most important people to me and my family. Prior to this season, I had no idea that this space would eventually serve as a platform to share my story because I didn’t think that I had a story to share. I didn’t think that I had a place in the sea of other blogs, all with women much more capable and eloquent than I, to minister to others.

But oh, do we have a story to share, my friends. No matter how big or how small you may feel, your story matters. Because you matter to God and he has written the most amazing stories for all of us. There are days where I am so filled with gratitude and joy over what God has done in me and my family that I wish I could just take a megaphone out to the world and shout it from a rooftop. I don’t pretend to know why God writes our stories the way that he does, but I like to think that he wrote mine so that I could finally find my voice among the crowd. I had been a writer on the internet for years, but no pop culture article could ever matter as much as someone who is sharing their heart, all for the glory and honor of God.

The stories don’t have to be pretty and they don’t have to be perfect. The stories don’t need to be wrapped up in shiny things and presented to the world on a silver platter. My story is a mess. It isn’t pretty, it certainly isn’t perfect, and some days I feel like I am presenting it to you on a paper plate rather than a platter. But that’s okay. My mess has become the message of God’s love and hope, and I cannot keep it to myself.

“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, “Your God reigns!” // Isaiah 52:7

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