Put Yourself Out There

Growing up, I always felt like I needed to be tough. Crying was seen as being weak, and I never wanted to be portrayed that way. I still remember the first time I cried in front of my youth group. My best friend and sister moved out of state, my brother moved out a couple days later and I was forbidden to hang out with him so it felt like I lost two siblings within days of each other, my favorite grandma died, my cousin was in a car accident, and while my aunt was visiting her son, her uncle died in the same hospital. It all happened in the same week, and I was supposed to lead a small group at a church camp before that week was over. We were in worship, and I just broke down sobbing. I have no idea what song was even playing or if it was a reaction to the song, but I just went into a ball and wept. I remember looking up at one point and seeing people just looking at me without any idea how to react. I was the girl always smiling, and being so vulnerable in front of others was terrifying to me. I wrote this poem around that time.

A few years ago, I decided to make a piece of art with it. It was the first time that I did a piece of art just for the mere pleasure of it in a long time. Dealing with rheumatoid arthritis had stopped that pleasure long ago. It wasn’t to fulfill any need, it wasn’t an assignment, it wasn’t for an art contest, our house, or any other person, just me. I dabbled with materials I had never worked with, I got lost in the music, my ideas behind it, and I just enjoyed the whole experience. I was proud of myself. While I enjoy realistic fine art that looks nice, there’s something about powerful, not as pleasant art that has always drawn me, and expressing myself in such a way felt freeing, and I felt like it matched the poem. It’s more of a 3D picture with a mask that actually comes out of it so in order to share it, I had to take pictures of it and couldn’t figure out the right angle to use. I had just joined a local art group that I was excited about and people asked opinions all the time or just shared their work that I loved viewing and complimenting, so I thought I’d ask which angle they thought I should use. Instead of answering my question, I was told how I should study another person’s artwork who combined art with poetry and express myself more like them and just critiqued harshly. Out of over a handful of comments, only one person even answered my question, and I felt like maybe I should scrap my entire painting I once felt proud of and start over or replicate someone else’s art. I’ve never been one to study others’ art too much unless I’m trying to figure out how to do something because I want to keep it entirely my own.

I learned something that day. I felt like God was asking me why I allow other people’s opinions to hold more merit than my own. Why do I allow other people’s voices to be louder than that of my Creator’s? Why would I ever try to be someone other than myself when God thought the world needed one of me too? I’m the only one who can share my small puzzle piece of Him. It’s absolutely frustrating to come to the end of a big puzzle and be missing the last piece no matter what piece it may be.

Putting myself out there will always be intimidating. Stepping outside of my comfort zone will always be uncomfortable. Being vulnerable and expressing oneself always requires at least a small act of bravery in a world that seeks to make clones of us all. There will always be people trying to cut down to size anyone who stands out or those outside of the arena who critique those inside. Their criticisms are more of a reflection of them than they are of me. I admire those who challenge themselves, so why can't I be one? As William Wallace in Braveheart says, “Every man dies, not every man really lives.” We are not mannequins. Crying is a sign of life upon arrival. Emotions show our humanity. We are not meant to watch life pass us by. We are not meant to stay hidden or buried. We are meant to grow and blossom. We are meant to step inside the arena. As a body of believers, we were never meant to stay underground, but rather be a church set on a hill that cannot be hidden. We were meant to let our light shine. Our piece of His puzzle might look different than all the others, but it needs to be put on the table before it can be used.