"Missions is what you do when everyone hates you" and other lies from the pit of hell.

Satan has been whispering in my ear again. This is the real reason you're leaving. No one likes you. The few who pretend to are just nice people having pity on you. Get out of here before you screw up their perfect lives. And say that you're doing it for God. That'll show 'em.

The horror that grips my soul at this thought brings tears to my eyes even now as I consider it. Why do I even consider it? Why does it stick so much?

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"You're beautiful," he said to me tonight on an uncomfortable bench in the evening heat.

Why can't I buy it? It's so simple. Why do I have to make it complex?

A good friend called me recently to thank me for some help and to say, "You are beautiful. And don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." Yeah, sure. These cynical thoughts come naturally to me.

What's funny is that I can't even convince myself that those statements are remotely true. Some women would think, Ah, he's just saying that so he can get in my pants. But I can't even allow that, because I can't perceive why anyone would want to. Get in my pants, that is.
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Awkward analogies aside, here's another lie that crept up on me. It bears explaining.

You can't look sexy drinking out of a styrofoam cup.

It came to me when we were at the Marriott the other night. Deanne was dancing with "the heaven guy," as we dubbed him, and I was sitting at the deserted bar, thinking about how pathetic I was. My cup of water was sitting in front of me and as I lifted it to my lips, that thought sprung alive. I glared at the lipstick which had adhered itself to the polystyrene, only to realize that it was entirely true. There is no way to look sexy while drinking from styrofoam.

But why was I trying to look sexy? Why would I want to elicit carnal impulses from ungodly men? Just so that they'll ask me to dance, lead me out on the broken floor, try a few spins and realize that I'm not that great after all, shake my hand, and let me putter back to my lonely spot in the corner, waiting for the next candidate?
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I could think that people just want to manipulate me, but I can't see myself as being worth manipulating.

I could think that people just want to use me, but I can't see myself as being worth using.

And if piddly little people won't use me to achieve their pathetic ends, why on earth would the God of the universe want to use me to achieve His? He doesn't need or want me.

I can reason my way out of any of these, but it doesn't help. The lie is still there.
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How can I understand that God accepts me for who I am if I can't accept me?

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Whatever he said to her, she felt herself buying into it. His words were honey, and her stomach was starving for their smooth sweetness. But when he told her what he thought of her, she shut down. She couldn't hear it. It was as if the words did not compute in her mind.

She mumbled her thank yous, but even as the tones escaped her lips, her mind negated what she had just heard.

She said kind things to him, and she meant it. But when he took it and accepted it for just how she meant it, she was embarrassed. No, you're not supposed to believe me. You're supposed to brush it off like the nothing that I am.

But when she crawled into her bed at night, she dwelt on it. It echoed in her head. Could he really mean it? Every bone in her body, every fiber of her being told her that it couldn't possibly be true.

Somewhere deep inside her soul, though, a tiny candle flickered. hope. Despite the winds of dismissal and the rains of doubt, the candle burned fearlessly.

It would, undoubtedly, be her undoing.
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I am having a spiritual crisis of sorts. Several, in fact.

I will agree with you that people are evil. People are stupid. People are panicky. People are animals.

But, a person?

For the life of me I can't think of a person as being evil. My automatic assumption is that they have the best for others in mind and have no regard for their own benefit or well-being. I can say it nicely: I assume the best of people. While all those around me live suspicious, tortured lives, I am blissfully unaware of the ulterior motives and blatant disregard for life.

Jesus did not call us to be naive. Or did He? "Innocent as"... a dove, a lamb, a child.

A child.

Children have to be taught not to trust. They, like me, assume that everyone has their best interest at heart.

"Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it at all."

What does it mean, Daddy?