One of my favorite inspirational bloggers, Danielle Laporte, has taken to writing a weekly series entitled 'The Burning Question,' where she asks herself and others, questions that perhaps hold keys to why we hold up our blessings in life. This week, the question is: What Boat Do You Need To Burn?
This question has actually been circling around in my world lately. In a sermon by Bishop T.D. Jakes, he details the fact that as human beings, we tend to cling to certain people, places, or things that we go back to in order to feel comforted--especially during times of challenge: our boats. The very thing that the Lord will ask you to do, the very thing that will be the most fulfilling thing in the world to do, will make you feel uncomfortable. Of course, as humans, we cling to comfort, like cheesy mac in your favorite bowl on a free Saturday. But some boats, stop up creativity like corked wine, and instead of cultivating depth, it only serves as a numbing agent. Something to stop us from living that exciting, exhilarating life.
My Boat: Apologizing. Apologizing for my tendencies that I don't want anyone else to see. Apologizing for not being like you, or her, or that cool guy with the awesome jacket. Apologizing that I don't like the same books, or music, or that I don't seem to be as put together or fashionable. Apologizing that I don't know how to do eleventy-seven things at once, and that I like to savor each sentence slowly. My nervousness around various groups of people, especially guys I want to impress, or women I want to take me seriously. Apologizing. And insecurities. I clung to these frenemies for so long, because in my mind, to apologize is to be polite to those around me. It is my excuse to remain sorry for myself, to indulge in senseless, thoughtless, masochistic jabs at myself. This in turn, harvests insecurity, which then makes me both encourage the blessing in other people, and feel challenged because I wish I could have those blessings, but I don't. Really?
So, to both Apologizing and Insecurity, I say, 'Sayonara, sweetie.' I pierce a hole on the bottom of the little tug boat, tie the monochromatic sail to a tree with treasures proving how much I've overcome through God, and I watch it sink beneath the murky surface.
What Boat (s) do you need to burn? Check out Danielle's post, and if you answer The Burning Question on your blog, tack it to the linky tool!