Uncategories My Fortress

My Fortress

Published on 10:31 PM By Aunica
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As I've been delving into the painful depths of my life,
I've come to realize that I've grown up believing a lot of lies.
Lies that satan whispered in my ear as a little girl.
"You're not pretty. You're father doesn't love you. You'll never add up to anything. You'll always be a failure. You see how your friend left you? Everyone will always abandon you. You're not worth their time. No one cares what you have to say. If you talk about yourself, people will run away."
And so many more.
And as a little girl, I believed these lies.
Until, as an older girl, they became truths.
As I dived into the Word, I began to realize that some of these just didn't add up.
I'm not pretty? But I was made in God's image.
My dad doesn't love me? But God is my father, and His love is perfect and never failing.
I'll never add up to anything? But God made me with a purpose.
I'll always be abandoned? But God will never leave me nor forsake me.
But as much as I wanted to believe these truths, the lies still had deep roots in my heart.
"You have to be strong. Crying is a sign of weakness. You can't give him the power he'll get if he sees you cry."
So I stopped crying, and honestly haven't really cried since I was a little girl.
But that's not okay, because instead of shielding myself and being strong - I should have run to God.
The Lord is my strength and my fortress, He's a strong rock.
But instead, parts of my little girl heart hardened.
And bitterness took root and I was forced to grow up too fast.
Pain lodged it's way deeper and deeper into my heart with every blow.
Every word that was screamed at me was reinforced with those lying whispers from the deceiver.
It's a process.
You can't just pluck the bud off of the weed and pretend it's gone.
Because truthfully, the roots are still in the ground - and unless you mow every day, they're going to come back.
You have to pull out all the roots, which takes time - and strength.
Strength that I don't have, this strength can only come from God.
When I am weak, He is strong.
And little by little, the roots are coming out.
And new roots, the roots of truth, are encircling my heart.
These whispers come with a different voice, while not always in the way I would expect.
Sometimes they come in the fire, sometimes in the wind.
But they come, and they curl around me.
Enveloping me in love, instead of pain.
Joy, instead of sorrow.
Hope, instead of despair.
These words come from the Truth Himself, and the deceiver has no place in my heart anymore.
As his roots are removed, I can almost hear him screaming in rage.
But instead of having to defend myself and be strong,
I can smile and run back into my Father's protective arms.
He is my protector.
Aunica

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