You Have Nothing to Prove

Just over a month ago, I shared the news that I signed an important contract, becoming one of ten new (in)courage contributors. Today, my first post as a contributor goes live, and I’d love for you to read the excerpt below and then join me over at (in)courage for the full post — it’s linked at the bottom. I’ll be honest, it took hours upon hours to wrestle these words down. But I hope that to those who are striving, who need to hear the truth of where their worth and identity come from… I hope that this will be an encouragement, a reminder that we aren’t loved for what we do but for whose we are. We are the Already Enough people, and we have nothing to prove.

Somewhere along the way, I picked up the idea that bigger is always better.

I picked it up and carried it with me, spending more time than I’d care to admit reaching for rungs.

We climb ladders and hear applause. We build platforms and receive praise. We joke about doing “all the things,” we hope for hearts and likes, we care about pixelated numbers.

In between all the plates spinning and the struggling to say no, we stick on a badge that says Busy but underneath the layers, behind the drive to do more and be more, is a desire to be seen. To be known. To be loved right now, as is, for who we really are.

I’m using the word “we” here, but let’s be clear: I’m speaking from personal experience.

We are the Already Enough people, the ones who have nothing to prove.

In a culture that praises busyness and promotes more — always more — I’ve listened to the lie that small equals insignificant, unseen, not enough.

But then a handful of years ago, on a Monday night in Haiti, I stood outside under a canopy of stars, bare feet on the cracked pavement, head tilted back, mouth wide open in wonder. I felt impossibly small, and yet incredibly seen at the very same time. I didn’t know it could be both/and, not either/or.

Two years later, I wrote a book about living, loving, and learning in the in between seasons of life, in the waiting and the wondering. There are words printed on pages that tell the story of His faithfulness and goodness, even in the chapters I never would have chosen. Chapter 5 talks about being both small and seen, and as the book began arriving in mailboxes on release day, I quietly stood at my kitchen sink rinsing a colander full of strawberries, thinking back to that night under the stars.

I heard the words hanging in the air before I realized they came out of my own mouth: This feels right.

It was an ordinary, small, regular moment on an absolutely crazy day, but in the kindest of ways it reminded me of my place.

A few months later, I traveled to Israel. I could write one hundred posts, tell you a thousand stories of all the ways my time there turned what was black and white to living color.

In two weeks, I’ll board a plane and travel back to a place that brought the Bible to life right in front of my eyes. I’ll take pictures, fill up another journal with all the words, and likely over-Instagram Story the entire thing.

I’m not sure I’ll have words when we make it back to the wall, though.

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