On insecurity.

So it’s no secret that I’m a freelance writer these days. If you are a friend on Facebook, follower on twitter, or live in Davidson County, I need to apologize.  Lately, I feel like I’ve been tirelessly self promoting with a “check out my story!” here, and a “Wow, look at this headline!” there. I don’t really like doing that, but then again, I’m excited about the work I’m doing, and wanting it to continue.

Lately, I’ve found myself so incredibly grateful for friends who continue to cheer me on, new mentors and editors willing to give me a chance, and of course, Patrick, who is always there to remind me that even when I feel like the sky is falling, no, it’s not.

In the midst of all this change, I’ve been walking through some strange, but familiar emotions. If you’ve ever changed careers, moved cities, or started college, I think you’ll recognize what I’m talking about. The “learning curve,” or it’s horrible cousin, insecurity.

In my college days, I spent a fair amount of time in counseling dealing with this beast. This sinful idea that I’m no good. And it’s sinful, because if I believe that I’m no good, then I’m not believing that God is good, because God made me in his image.  How can what God makes ever be bad?

To answer that question with a resounding yes! takes incredible faith–faith that sometimes, I don’t have when I’m sitting at home all day, alone with my thoughts, alone with the lies that start pounding away at the inside of my mind, reminding me of all the reasons I suck.

My inner monologue goes a little something like this:
Oh, Claire, why even make that pitch? You know they are going to turn you down, or worse, they probably won’t even write you back. Oh, checking your e-mail again, huh? Yeah, they haven’t written you back because they don’t need you.  You’re just a little nobody writer, just like all the other people out there that are trying to be writers. What do you think makes you so special?”

Ouch.  But that’s real.  That’s really going on in my head, so often that I begin to believe the monologue, and clam up.

And here’s the thing.  There are monologues in my head about my marriage, diatribes about my ability to decorate a home, insecurity about friendships, family relationships, my cooking, my teeth… really the list goes on and on and would never end… unless.

Unless I remember something that my former counselor (and dear friend) told me and tried to engrain in my mind. 2 Corinthians 10:5.  How to originate a new monologue, filled with truth, instead of meaningless self-depricating mush.

“We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.

So, the reminder today, for me, for us, is this. Our thoughts are not naturally obedient.  They want to defy us, they want to challenge the truth that God created us, and knows His creation is good. They need to be taken captive: grabbed mid air, tied down, and shamed into submission–obedient to our Maker. Otherwise, they will make us think that everything is the worst, when in reality, God is making all things new, so everything is getting much, much better.

Isn’t that good news?

Is this inner monologue business something only I experience because I’m a total head case, or is this something that more people deal with? Is insecurity a problem you’ve learned to overcome? What do you think of this verse, 2 Corinthians 10:5? Is it easy for you to make your thoughts obedient to Christ?

[SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING: although I selected three unbelievably beautiful images from Jennifer Griffin’s “Isn’t it Iconic” pinterest board, I do not encourage smoking, as it is an addiction as deadly as self-depricating insecurity.]