There was a time when I confused trembling with devotion.
I was a shattered, self-destructive girl, forever sweeping up the glass of my own life, believing God was standing over me with a ledger instead of open hands.
I knew how to run from Him.
Then I learned how to perform for Him.
I traded one kind of destruction for another. I stopped trying to ruin myself and started trying to perfect myself. I measured my faith by how little I failed, how carefully I walked, how quickly I apologized. I thought holiness was the absence of weakness instead of the presence of surrender.
Looking back, I don’t think my faith was built on Jesus.
I think it was built on the fear of disappointing Him.
But fear is a cruel architect. It builds walls where God intended to build a home.
Fear asks, What is allowed?
Love asks, What draws me closer?
The strange thing is, I found the depth I was searching for only when I stopped trying to prove I belonged.
Now my faith looks different.
It is quieter. Deeper. Less frantic.
I don’t run from God when I fall. I run toward Him. I don’t read Scripture to find the rules I missed. I read it to know the heart of the One who has carried me through every version of myself.
I spent years trying to become someone worthy of His love.
I finally realized I was loved before I ever became whole.
B🤍
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