What to Do When You don’t Feel Like You Fit

Audio recording of this post — click below & a farm girl will read it for you, cheering you on, while you keep on, keeping on.

What to Do When You don’t Feel Like You Fit: BlogCast from the farm

When the gorgeous woman on stage with the microphone hikes up the side of her shirt to show all 10,000 of us how her white side spills thick over the elasticized waist of her pants…

and I want to know what Jesus thinks of women.

The singer holds her milk white thigh right there and she’s vulnerable thin to the front row and to those at the back of Section K and I look down at my feet.

And that’s what she says:

I’ve been rejected all of my life because of my size.

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She’s standing on a stage and she’s holding out her bare roll of skin, a bearing of the soul, holding out her cellulite and begging us to look her in the eye and why am I looking away?

And there are 10,000 women sitting under this domed roof holding out their hearts like empty cups.

They’re here right next to me — all these women rejected for the size of their pants, the size of their house, the size of their family, the size of their work.

Women brushed off because they live too large or they live too small, because there is more of them than people know what to do with, because they can’t or don’t or won’t fit into someone else’s little box.

Women who can’t make their faith just fit thin into these skinny lines of dry bullet points, but let their God-life roll over into their outed closets and messy stories, women who don’t only fit into these categories — mommy blogger, size small, housewife, single career woman, mother, retiree — because they are women made in the image of God and they are more than only this.

I look around at all these women, scarred and banged up and brave and still standing, and the singer is standing there a bit bare and all I can hear is their song.

All I can hear is the whole uncontainable song of women and I see how their lives break the refrain and the whole place reverberates with a truth that rolls over, rolls like thunder.

Our God is the God of Hagar. Ours is the God who sees and for the women forgotten and for the women unwanted and the women left behind — there is water in the wilderness and He is our well and all is well.

Ours is the Savior who told women stories and this was serious theology, stories messy and large and in full color life, about a woman with a broom and He says she is the hero who lives good doctrine, the woman in her house seeking and finding the certain kingdom of God.

Ours is the Savior who sings of us, of the woman who won’t walk away from the unjust judge, from the call, from the plea, the women who never give up, who just keep on keeping on, and He says she is honored and His, the woman who just keeps going and giving and believing in grace.

And God Incarnate, Son of Man in the flesh, He makes one of His daughters the cameo of real theology and right praxis, a sister, this woman, this widow, who walks into the temple, and gives the very smallest of coins, 1/5th of a penny, and God Incarnate praises the woman who did what she could in the small and the sacrificed, and He said it was everything and He deems it large and this is who we are.

We are the women who want the thing God wants more than we are afraid of it, the women who know when the love of Christ motivates, the more fearless of everything we become, the women who know real joy is not found in having the best of everything but in trusting that God’s making the best of everything.

We are the women who make our lives about the cause of Christ, not the applause of men, live to express the Gospel, not to impress the Jones’, live not to make our absence felt, but to make Christ’s presence known.

We are the women who know it’s not about us and all about Glory.  

We are the women, the generation of Esthers, the #GenEsthers, who unloose the hair, the women who do the lavish unlikely, the women who bow at the bare feet of God and touch pure holiness and we are rent by grace and we break and we fit and we spill with this shocking love.

I’ve been rejected for my size — but Jesus, Jesus takes all of me.”

The singer on the stage, she says this, her eyes welling, her skin bare right there in her hands.

Then she raises her hands and she sings —

because the brave always keep singing on their own song —

unconditional acceptance always being the one size that fits all.

 

 

 Related: Dear Women & Daughters: When You’re Tired of Media Voices Telling You What Beauty & Love Are

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