[who will you believe?]

I remember sitting on the floor of a closet-turned-office in my elementary school.  

The woman sitting beside me had a warm smile and soft, gentle words.

I liked her.

But at the same time,

I knew there were only a couple of other kids in my school who met with her.

And even as a first grader, I knew there must be something wrong with me.

Oh, yeah.  

My lisp.

This speech pathologist was trying to help me.

I couldn't really get my tongue to make the sound behind my teeth that hers did.

But nobody seemed to make a big deal of it.

So I was ok.

In fact, I was more than ok.

I was confident---

too confident, maybe. 

Even in first and second grade, 

I was writing plays and submitting them to my teacher.

"Maybe our class could perform this," I'd quip.

Of course, as I cast my characters,

I always gave myself the starring role.

Oh, and I was sure to write in a place for me 

to showcase my mad piano playing skills

(which really weren't as mad as I thought them to be).  

I boldly participated in each and every talent show.

First grade found me dressed as Little Orphan Annie 

(complete with a curly wig and red dress) 

belting out "Tomorrow."

With my mom in the audience rooting for me,

I took first place.

My confidence soared.

The words of the plaque that hung in my pink bedroom

resonated in my heart.

God said, 

"You are precious in my eyes,

and honored,

and I love you."

Isaiah 43:10

I believed it.

I trusted it.

I was secure in it.

I sailed through elementary school

and reached Jr. High.

The lisp that wasn't a big deal in elementary school now became fodder for teasing and taunting and poking fun of me.

The boys mimicked me and fed off of one another's jokes.

Their laughter rang in my ears.

And as a Jr. High girl who had previously developed crushes on some of these same boys,

I was devastated.

These were the guys I wanted to like and accept me.

And instead, I felt rejected.  

Inferior.  

Insecure.

Instead of believing what God said about me,

I believed these boys.

And the once-confident-girl-of-my-youth

settled into the background,

willing teachers not to call on me,

shying away from solos,

hoping to fly under the radar and go unnoticed.

I lived there for far too long---

well into adulthood.

I found comfort being the behind-the-scenes girl.

And don't even think about asking me to get up and speak

(which I'd do occasionally but not without extreme self-analysis and fear).

I was paralyzed and unable to move forward for years

because of the comments of a few immature Jr. high boys years before.

Several years ago, for the first time, I made myself vulnerable to a group of my high school girls.

We'd been discussing our value in God's eyes;

the idea that we're made in His image and He doesn't make mistakes.

I shared with them how this had been a struggle for me for many years.

I talked about my lisp and the pain it caused me;

how I struggled with feelings of inferiority and self-consciousness for much of my life because of it;

how I was slowly learning to take those thoughts captive and believe what God said about me.  

Soon after,

I received a note in the mail.

It was from my friend and co-leader in that small group of girls that night.

Oh, and she just happens to be a speech pathologist.

She thanked me for sharing my story, but then she said the words that stopped me in my tracks:

"Nikki, you don't have a lisp.  You used to have a lisp.  But it's gone."

My body convulsed in sobs.

For so many years,

I'd staked my belief about myself on some careless comments of immature boys.

Rather than believing God,

I believed them.

Rather than finding my identity and worth in Him,

I'd allowed flippant, off-the-cuff remarks to shape me and change me.

And somehow, even when God had removed the "thorn" from me,

I hadn't even noticed,

because I was still believing the lie.

Are you believing a lie, dear one?

Do the hurtful words of yesterday ring in your ears today,

robbing you of the joy you have in Christ?

Do they tell you you're a mistake?

That you don't measure up?

That you're an embarrassment?

Do you, like me, stake your claim on some human's hurtful words of yesteryear?

Or today, will you choose to believe the Truth?

Will you listen to our Father God as He whispers words of life and love over your soul?

You are His masterpiece, friend.

He loves you with an everlasting, can't-do-anything-to-make-Him-love-you-less love.

When you fail and mess up, His love is secure.

When everyone else walks away, He is faithful.

Believe Him, dear one.

Trust Him.

Rest in His beautiful promises to you.

God said, 

"You are precious in my eyes,

and honored,

and I love you."

Isaiah 43:10