Hello hello, beautiful people! I hope you’re all doing well. So, I know my first blog post had a more serious tone, but I want to forewarn you guys: I am not that serious all the time. If any of y’all were to meet me in person, I am by far the goofiest and most lighthearted person you will ever meet. I love a good laugh, I love to joke around, and I try daily to never take this life as seriously as possible.

Now, don’t get me wrong, there are things in this life that I do take seriously. My faith, for example, is very important to me. But, I am a firm believer that this life is far too short for us to ever waste it away instead of taking a stand or dancing like a fool (me at all the weddings I went to this past summer). What I mean is that life is too short for us to worry about what others think, or worry so much about making mistakes that we forget to live. That is what I want to talk to y’all about today.
The person I used to be would stand on the sidelines or sit out instead of choosing to relax and have a good time. (And, by “good time” I am not talking about sex, drugs, and rock and roll type of things.) During little, everyday moments I used to ulcerate so much about the “what if’s” and the “who’s watching” that I forgot how to live and enjoy life’s little moments. That’s how I used to be and not who I am now so, if you’re willing, please sit back and allow me to tell you a story.
Back in my prime (totally kidding), my sophomore year of high school was the year I got saved. As I mentioned in the last post, I was insecure, depressed and, well…a broken mess. When I was younger, I was always conscious of my looks. I was raised to “Always look your best and make yourself look presentable,” but I morphed that concept into a monster that it never was intended to be.

You see, my parents have always wanted me to be comfortable in my own skin—to know I am beautiful inside and out—but my little head back in middle school got the idea twisted, and I began to compare myself to other girls and measure myself against them in ways (and standards) no little girl should ever worry about. I noticed every little flaw in me and, instead of embracing them and acknowledging that we all have them, began to tear myself down because of them.
More recently, I’ve been really struggling with my writing ability. I have always enjoyed writing, and every single word I’ve written for this blog—as well as the one I own—I’ve thoroughly enjoyed. This is something that is very personal and something I know God has called me to do, but here’s the thing: you know that comparison thing I was telling you about? Ya girl is still struggling with it now, but instead of my looks it’s more with my writing.

The way I write—with my tone, content, faith, etc.—is where I try to be brutally honest and real with people to show people Jesus, not Hannah. The way I write requires me to be vulnerable in a day and age where being vulnerable is viewed as a weakness. The way I write requires me to open up about my struggles and show the more imperfect parts that I try to hide away. The way I write requires me to dive deep into God’s Word and allows Him to give me strength in ways I had no idea I needed. Because opening up to people is something I really struggle with, the enemy knows right where to hit me, and hit me hard.
I struggle with comparison. I struggle with believing and trusting that what I am doing is right and effective and just. The enemy doesn’t like the fact at all that I write the way I do—that I am as honest as I am, that I speak the Word the way I do, that I allow myself to be transparent for God’s light to shine through me. He doesn’t like that I’m lifting my voice and praising the one above, so he plucks the strings that really hurt. He wants to place rocks in my path that will make me stumble, rocks that make me question—even for a moment—if what I am doing is right, effective, or even good enough.

This is a daily struggle for me. I must choose every single day to trust God’s word and not allow the enemy to sweet talk me into stumbling. And, honestly, it scares me. It’s scary to me how quickly I believe his lies and how easily I fall into the trap. But then I’m reminded: it has never been about me. It’s always been about Him, that He always has the true victory. And, quite frankly, if I’m being picked on this much, I must be doing something right!
There is one Scripture that I absolutely love, Psalm 103:14. It states: “For He knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust…” This is such a beautiful reminder to me because it’s a reminder that He knows who I am—someone made from dust. I am easily bruised. I am easily tempted. And yet He loves me anyway.

You see, when I am mindful of this as well as Philippians 4: 13, “For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength,” then I remember that He is the one I’m doing this for, and He is the one giving me the strength, the words, and the topics to write about. Through Him, and His armor, I can withstand and fight the attacks (Ephesians 6: 10-17).
As I close, I want to encourage y’all. I know I touched briefly on insecurities here, and I want you to know that you are not alone with your insecurities. I have them, we all have them, and it is okay. God loves you and me just the way we are, and He will never stop. He accepts us for who we are, and He uses our abilities and our fragile bodies to do glorious works. All we got to do is trust in Him and allow Him to work through us. All we got to do is throw pride aside (another thing for me) and remember that we are but dust that He breathed life into and sent His son to die for all those years ago. When we do that, it is beautiful to see Him move. And that, my friends, is amazing.
I hope you have a fantastic week, and I am praying for each and every one of y’all! God bless and know that He is for you. I ask that you guys will pray for me, as well, and my co-bloggers, “that whenever [we] open [our] mouth[s], divine utterance may be given [us], so that [we] will boldly make known the mystery of the Gospel…Pray that [we] may proclaim it fearlessly, as [we] should.” (Ephesians 6: 19-20)

With Love,
Hannah