i don't always tell you.

The following was inspired by a post of the same title by Rachel Held Evans (read it here, please - it's breathtaking). This is the most raw, unfiltered, vulnerable piece I've ever written, and it's rather terrifying to post. But I've said over and over again that this is a place where you can be yourself - and that has to include me.

So here's a piece of my heart, in hopes that it can meet you where you're at in your journey.

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I don't always tell you that sometimes when I look in the mirror, it's like facing down a stranger with hints of familiarity, maybe a freckle in the same spot, or a similar twitch of the eye. All I really want to do is break the glass, but instead I just call myself names, like ugly or stupid or nobody likes you.

And sometimes I feel God's peace like a gust of fresh air, and it fills my lungs to the point where I can't do anything but smile and gulp in deep deep breaths because I know he is near.

And other times I try repeating his name out loud, just to remind myself he exists, and it only sounds like I'm taking his name in vein.

OH GOD Oh God Oh God Oh god oh god.

And then I hate myself even more, because what kind of Christian could ever feel this way and still hang onto Christ?

And praying just seems like some watered down way to make talking to myself seem sane, and the Bible is just full of words that get caught on my tongue as they try to escape. Read them, repeat them, scratch them off my heart and smear them onto my forehead. Something, anything to make me feel more alive.

And what do I do when the words that are supposed to be living and active, sharper than a double-edged sword, actually feel like they're cutting small little slits all over my faith, letting the doubt seep in like the smoke lingering after a fire?

I don't always tell you about these cringe-worthy moments, the ones not exactly suitable for a cleaned up and polished blogspot site.

Or a cleaned up and polished Christian, for that matter.

If those even exist.

And so I'll go for a drive, because I like taking long drives with God just to be with him, and we won't say much at all. I'll play a few songs and look up at the sky, usually sunset, and be reminded of how beautiful this life is all over again.

And this is faith, not always feeling and not always knowing, but continuing to show up in spite of it all.

For God is more than a good feeling in my stomach, a quiet voice in my ear, a cardboard pattern in my mind. He's more than the boxes and verses and how-to's of faith. He's more than my doubt, my questions, and my anger, jumbled up fear that wracks my brain and my soul.

He's here and he's present and he just keeps showing up.

So I guess I will, too.