Less than what

This morning I found myself thinking about church.

Not the sermon.

Not the worship.

People.

Specifically, a feeling I have carried for a long time.

The feeling that I don’t quite belong.

The feeling that somehow I am less than.

The strange thing is, if you asked me if I believed that, I would immediately say no.

I know what the Word says.

I know who I am in Christ.

I know I am loved.

I know I am accepted.

I know I belong to Him.

Yet there are moments when something inside of me still reacts as if I don’t.

This morning I found myself thinking about people who seem to have everything.

Status.

Influence.

Recognition.

The kind of people who walk into a room and are immediately seen.

And then there is me.

The girl who still notices when she isn’t.

As I sat with it, I realized something.

I can make declarations all day long.

I can quote Scripture.

I can rebuke lies.

But if I never understand where the lie came from, I may find myself fighting the same battle next year.

And I don’t want that.

I don’t want to spend another year wrestling with something God wants to heal.

So I asked the question.

Why?

Why does this bother me?

Why does it matter?

Why do I sometimes walk into a room already feeling less than?

And suddenly I wasn’t thinking about church anymore.

I was thinking about old labels.

Old comparisons.

Old wounds.

Old messages that somehow found a place to live inside of me.

Messages that whispered:

You’re not enough.

You don’t belong.

You’re on the outside.

You’re less than.

And for years I accepted the accusation without ever questioning it.

Until today.

Today I asked a different question.

Less than what?

Less than who?

According to whose standard?

What exactly am I measuring myself against?

The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous the lie became.

Less than what?

Less than someone with more money?

More influence?

More education?

More recognition?

More status?

Who decided those things determine value?

Certainly not Jesus.

The kingdom doesn’t work that way.

The cross doesn’t work that way.

God doesn’t work that way.

Somewhere along the way I learned to measure myself.

And somewhere along the way I believed I came up short.

But maybe the problem was never me.

My problem was the measuring stick.

I spent years trying to qualify for a seat that was already mine.

I spent years trying to belong when I already do.

I know this isn’t fully healed yet.

I know this is still a process.

But I also know this:

I am tired of agreeing with a lie.

I am not less than.

I am not beneath.

I am not a half.

I am not disqualified.

I am not on the outside looking in.

I belong to Jesus Christ.

And if I belong to Him, then I belong.

Period.

So today I’m not pretending I’ve arrived.

I’m not pretending this revelation instantly fixed everything.

I’m simply refusing to agree with the lie anymore.

Because healing starts when we tell the truth.

And the truth is this:

I am not less than.

I never was.