the song of longing

I am thinking that if we could truly comprehend the extent and nature of our Father's love for us, and really believe it, everything would change. From our very countenance, to the way we interact with and present ourselves to others, to the way we move through the world.

Yesterday I sat through a counseling appointment in which I, with fumbled words and nervous hands, tried to explain a long-lived feeling that manifests itself with actual physical symptoms. Though I have lived with this feeling clinging to me like an ugly conjoined sister, and have known it seemingly always, I had trouble finding words that described it.

And as words slowly formed that began to give the feeling a tangible identification, it hit me.

Words from loved ones:dear friends, children, family members, and my own mouth entered my head as though I had them in my iPod and had just pushed the button on the playlist.

It is the song of longing. The longing to be loved for who we are—that little, scared, silly, smart, clumsy, funny, loving, questioning child of God and man who is the core of who you are. Who I am.

“Love me,” it sings. “Please know me and love me.”

And the chorus is a lie that repeats itself:
“You are not lovable. If they know you they won’t love you.”

Today my dentist—my dentist—said this to me:

“I’m not sure I believe that God wants to heal us all of our diseases…but I’ll tell you what… I’m 100% sure Jesus came here to free us from bondage. And part of that bondage is the lies we believe.”

Of course our God and Father does know us and love us. Unfathomably, deeply, unendingly. He calls to us in love. We just can't hear Him over the cacaphony of lies we have made the soundtrack of our daily life.

The song borne of bondage. I hear it all around me.

May we all be free from its refrain.