I began this on Monday: June 11, 2007 It's Monday. Another one. I have 64-ish more Mondays to go. Before we left for Iraq, the girls in my Bible study met together to discuss goals for the next 15 months of deployment. During the conversation Katherine, the leader, said the depth of our accountability depends on our openness – saying, not to be afraid to be open with one another, share everything with each other because that’s how we get to know each other on a real level, that’s how we get to become effective accountability partners. Within that group of ladies (and now the two ladies who are here with me! Yay for Christine and Adela) we are sisters, loving and accepting – but also loving and sharpening. That has been at the forefront of my mind every time I start to get close to someone here. When I talk with the girls (we meet for breakfast and then sometimes during the evenings) it’s easy to want to keep the “dirty” parts of my life hidden. But the Bible says, what is hidden now will be brought to light later. And so I’ve made a conscious effort to be honest, with all people – because what’s the use of pretending? I’m been doing bit of internal analysis recently - thanks to my present situation, assorted conversations and scraps of advice thrown to me in well-intentioned attempts to guide or encourage me – neither of which I requested or want from those too distant from me to know my personality. Strangely enough, it’s not the kind words that brought me to this self-investigation. Instead it has been the words, spoken and written, that have cut my heart and infuriated me that made me step back in surprise to stare in the mirror held before me. This recent study of my character combined with knowing how truth sets people free brings me to this blog today. So… here I am: I try really hard to be someone I’m not. “They” are right. I’m not good enough. I’m not loving or joyful or peaceful or patient. I’m not kind or good. I’m obviously not faithful -the story of my life has been written in scarlet. I lack self-control and gentleness. My heart is selfish above all things, cunning, deceptively wicked and forever wandering. I’m vain, even more so thanks to the overwhelming amount of attention given to any female in the military, and I am proud. I firmly believe I have the ability to get what I want if only I try hard enough, or know who to flirt with. I struggle with the intense desire to be wanted. It’s like a card that, if played correctly, wins my heart every time. And what’s worse, it’s a card that I want people to play correctly. I want to be loved, but I need to love – someone. And it gets me in trouble with men. I love quickly and give all of myself till I’ve forgotten my first true love in favor for the love of a man that isn’t intended to last. I don’t know who I am. There are days I wonder if I am as good as people think I am. Do I do things because they are the right thing to do or do I do things because I want people to think I’m a nice person? There are days when I wonder if my true character is a terrible person who will hurt anyone to get what I want. I wonder about my intentions, about how important it is for people to think I am good. But “They” are right. I will never be good enough. Not on my own. *I struggle now not to write out of anger or self-righteousness.* That is what Christianity is all about. Jesus did not come to save the perfect, but to heal the broken, the lost, the continual sinner, the one who doesn’t get it right, the slow learner. The unfaithful. Me. He came for me. Not to save me after I got to be more acceptable, but to love me as I am. But He loves me too much to let me stay where I am. The accuser is there constantly telling me the faults in my life are unforgivable. As if there were a hierarchy to sin. He convinces me to keep secrets. He tells me “no one will accept you.” He tells me “no one will love you if they knew who you were.” And so I hide, for the sake of my reputation, I hide. But I hide no longer. Here’s my pride. Here’s my name – my name that I so valued. The name I wanted to be pure, to be pristine. My name. I’m not that good girl I try so hard to be. I’m not the strong “uber” Christian I try to portray. I struggle and I struggle a lot. It’s not easy for me. However, I am allowed to leave the life I had. I am allowed to say “I was wrong” and to get back on my feet and start again, and “They” can’t turn to me and tell me I will NEVER be good enough because I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. I cannot change myself but Christ can, and I am His project. He works on my heart and my mind like a silversmith works on silver. A silversmith knows the silver is perfect when He can see his reflection in the metal. Jesus can’t see His reflection now… oh but one day.... one day He will. One day He will look at me and see Himself. Until then, when the accuser calls out my name and laughs at me, reminding me of all the times I’ve tried before and failed, when he tells me time and time again that I’ll never win - I must remember that my sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought – my sin, not a part of it, but the whole, has been nailed to the cross and I bear it no more. My life’s story isn’t written in scarlet. It’s written in crimson. | 
. But I’ve had some time to be afraid, to let it in and run it’s course and then to let the fear go. 
