In yesterday’s post I wrote about my own need to unlearn early lesson to live into my identity as Beloved. But sometimes the process itself, this unwieldy carpetbag of doubt and fear and slow dawning and sprouting truth, can feel like lead. Dragging around my messy self, the long journey to beloved birthright can make me feel marked and troubled.
Brokenness and the jagged places in the world and in us were never the plan, But somehow, scars on the one who knows she is beloved are made beautiful. She shares them without fear, for they come from what she has survived, what she has been led through. Living this life, even rooted in everlasting love, in a world that reminds us on all sides the ways we don’t measure up, can leave us all scraped and bruised. Belovedness is not an insulation from hurt. But when we share our scars, we can share the One Whose wounds made us healed and whole, and from Whom our beloved identity flows.