My friend listened patiently, then asked, “What do you think it would take for you to believe that God loves you?”

My hand opened and I began pointing to each finger, angrily listing off my demands.

My competitive side kicked in. A plan came together and I geared up for the big night. I couldn’t wait for the children to guess my costume.

As the evening wore on and we enjoyed a potluck meal together, I found that I couldn’t stop shaking. I couldn’t eat and could barely take a sip of water.

I didn’t have enough apples. I couldn’t run to the store for more. I didn’t have the cash flow to cover it, and I needed to teach the Kindergartners. I couldn’t leave. Others couldn’t either. It was a jam-packed morning.

“I didn’t care for my name because it represented the shame I carried about myself. I felt unworthy of a name I considered lovely.”

“I believed if I had made a better decision–the right decision–there would be no unpleasant consequences. It was my fault.”

“I would have preferred to stay in the classroom where my strengths were seen, rather than being on the ball field with my weaknesses on full display.”

“When I misunderstand the gift of God’s grace, not just for salvation, but for the work of sanctification in me, I can live trying to earn God’s favor as if I never had it.”

“What was designed to be an honor turned into a month of anxiety producing hiding.”

“Of all the songs they could have picked, they chose this one. I felt confused and frightened. I jumped off the swing and ran inside. Why would they sing this song for me?”

“God’s love felt abstract and elusive, not tangible and real. I didn’t understand how the love of a God I can’t see, touch, or talk to face to face could meet the deep relational needs of my heart.”