To Love | To Trust

All I ever think about is tomorrow.

I guess it isn’t my fault. Throughout junior high, and then high school, in increasingly frequent intervals, I was repeatedly met with the question “What do you want to do with your life?”

I was that kid with the big dreams, the elaborate plan of execution, and the dead-set desire to make it reality. I didn’t understand how anyone COULDN’T have a plan of attack for the big world that awaited us after high-school graduation. Instead of spending time worrying about how to reclaim the fickle friendship of the popular crowd I spent my free time at Springboro High School dreaming about one day managing an incredible Christian musician who simultaneously rocks hard and shares the Gospel with the watching world.

In a dramatic plot twist, three months ago I tentatively (yet eagerly) began to release my grip on this dream. (Okay at this point I should turn off Taylor Swift’s song “Never Grow Up”, which is playing in my ears right now and making me really sentimental). I set down the story of my ambitions I was writing in exchange for one that I thought read a little bit more like my autobiography.

I chose radio.

Radio, with its subtle lure.

I often hear seasoned professionals say that they were bitten by “the radio bug” some point in their career, and once they were hit there was no way out. There is something noble about reaching people across radio waves. Somehow a DJ is talking and you are hearing them as currents travel across invisible waves. You’re kidding yourself if that concept doesn’t blow your mind.

As much as I love the idea of radio, of DJing on a station and talking to listeners, since I started channeling all my creative energy, all my daydreaming and effort, into being the best on-air communicator I can be my fear has been amplified. Literally:

I fear my own inability. Deep down, I’m quite confident I’m not good enough. So I rely on the opinions of others and their commendations to get me by. I train myself to be technically better. All the while, I have no idea if I’m really any good or if I’m just convincing myself that I am.

Do you know what I’m learning?

It doesn’t matter what anyone says about me and my abilities. My talents are a fraction of who I am. I need to stop acting as though they’re my salvation.

It’s ludicrous to think that I’m just going to impress the heck out of so-in-so and eventually get to where I want to be.

Do I actually trust God AT ALL!?

As soon as trust in the Lord comes into the conversation, I’m immediately convicted. Because, if I’m honest, I think that the responsibility to accomplish (or fail) to achieve my dreams rests solely in my hands. With a career like radio…it’s do or die. I either completely kill it on-air: I’m honest, passionate, articulate, relatable, personable, likable, and moving, or I blow it.

My worth, far too often, is based on my performance.

Why do I consistently believe such a blatant lie?

This whole screwy attitude makes me look around at my talented friends and feel incredibly small. I stop looking ahead toward the prize and like a horse without blinders on, I get hit sideways by jealously, insecurity, and selfish ambition. I hate these attributes in myself and even writing them down feels dirty and human. How I long to be more holy.

Maybe you’re like me and once you wrap your head around a concept you can’t let it go. In fact, you refuse to. It’s your passion, and consequently, it consumes you. You wake up and you think about how you can get one step closer TODAY. You can’t sleep at night because you’re wide awake buzzing after a conversation about it. When you’re in, you’re ALL in. The methods change. Your thought patterns come back around to what professionals would do in your situation. You set up stepping stones in your mind of what you need to tangibly do to get THERE, and once you get THERE where you plan on going next, and suddenly your whole life is wrapped around this one idea.

I just drew a caricature of myself. So I want to do radio now? Predictably for someone like me, I quickly latch onto the words of a professional I admire and focus in on a company I would love to work for. I become a student of the station – but not just any student. I’m the overeager kid, the one who always raises her hand and chips in, referencing the extra reading she’s been doing on the side. She’s the one the rest of the class hates but the teacher appreciates. Like ivy to a tree, I find myself wrapped tightly around my dream of working for this station, clinging to my construct of affirmation, folly, and blind hope.

It’s great to be passionate.

It’s not great to wrap your entire life around your dreams.

“My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ love and righteousness”.

NOTHING LESS.

God gives us talents and abilities to use for his glory. Should we structure ourselves in such a way to make much of God with what we’ve been given? Absolutely.

But should we cling to our ideal situation at all costs? Should we build ourselves this little world in which our pride is satisfied, insecurities are addressed, and competition is eliminated?
Absolutely not.

I know there’s something wrong in my heart when I find rejoicing with those who rejoice difficult. My natural inclination is to celebrate the accomplishments of the people I love. The second my own pride prevents me from wholeheartedly embracing the success of another person I know there’s something pervading my heart that needs to die.

This is my confession: I don’t trust God.

I don’t trust Him to provide for me in the same way He’s providing for my friends. I don’t trust that His plans are greater for me than I could ever imagine. I don’t trust Him to be faithful even though He’s proven His faithfulness for me OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN!

The second I tell someone to “Just trust God”, my own heart testifies against me:

“You hypocrite!! You don’t trust God to provide, how can you tell her to?! Practice what you preach!”

There it is: the hideous root of it all. All the insecurity. All the jealousy.
All the selfish desires.

I find it extremely difficult to trust the Savior who endured the cross. How insidious. May the Lord change the desires of my heart!

Derek Webb, in his extremely honest song “Wedding Dress”, sings

Could you love this bastard child
Though I don’t trust you to provide?

Christians should wrap themselves around the needs and desires of their brother and sisters for their good and their flourishing. That looks like having the selflessness to say, with full joy and excitement:

“Hey, you succeeded and YOU DESERVE IT. You are an incredible person with an immense amount of talent and I want to mirror the heart of God for you. I revel in your accomplishments. When you succeed, I succeed. Your joy is my own.”

Despite my perceived insufficiencies, I want to wake up everyday and say to the Lord, “I believe today that You are a provider”. And truly know and believe it with every ounce of me. God is still a provider if I’m at Station X like I want to be. God is still provider if I’m down in Nashville working on something else. GOD IS STILL PROVIDER IF I HAVE NOTHING TO MY NAME AND NONE OF MY DREAMS COME TRUE.

Do I love God more than the things I want from Him?

God, become my Dream. Become my Passion. Become my Ambition.

this is my prayer for myself and for us, Church.

in Christ,

angela

 

As always, some pictures to illustrate my life this last month:

Casey, Tiara and I hiking at Glen Helen.

We visited Channel 10 News in Columbus with Management class. Coolest field trip ever!

Josh and I got free cupcakes. Thanks Admissions!!

Mr.L cutting up sausage for our Resound hike through John Bryan.

Dan being a monkey.

Weekly air checks (“Todd Time”) with Mr.Stach are a highlight of the week for Josh and I.

Rebie and I grabbed breakfast at Clifton Mill. So nice to catch up with this woman.

Tiara, Case and I grabbed coffee at Dayton’s Ghostlight Coffee. Yummm.

This shih tzu Case and I played with at Fetch was our favorite thing ever.

Casey and I got to see Josh KILL IT in his role in Doug Malcolm’s play Act of Worship! Incredible.

 

Foray into the [Un]known

For days, weeks even, I have tried hard to persuade myself to write.
“I have so much to say”, I told myself again and again.

At this point I couldn’t tell you what prevented me from taking to my computer and seeking to make good on my self-promises. Armed with my keyboard I could weave together my words to accurately dress up the mannequin of my circumstances with decadence  – and hopefully derive a moral out of it all somewhere along the way.

Even now, I find myself typing with hesitation, editing in the midst of sentences – something my high school english teacher considered a sin on par with murder.

In the past 30 days, I would say fairly remarkable changes have taken place in my life.

First off, I got a haircut.

Before you write this off as trite and shallow, you should know that Coco Chanel once said that “A girl who cuts her hair is about to change her life”. That was my aim in cutting the long, straight, boring locks that I had previously stubbornly refused to do more than trim. “I’m growing it out,” I had grown accustomed to telling those that inquired. It got longer, slowly, and most of the time just hang around my face like a pesky fly that for some reason I took pride in. With Alexa Chung as inspiration and my hairdresser Mike wielding the scissors expertly, in flurry of determination and wild abandon my hair shrunk 3+ inches.

The reason for this dramatic change is the second point I’ll make:

Secondly, I turned 20.

The past couple years I have absolutely dreaded turning the next age. Something morbid accompanied my birthdays, making me hesitate to celebrate. I wanted to cling to the good I’d known of the previous year – not only cling to but to live inside. Growing old meant letting go to me. I wasn’t willing to let go of the memories, of the feelings. 17 felt good. 18 felt incredible. Why be 19 when I could be 18? Too bad age works linearly.

20 was different for me. 20 was a golden age, the age of opportunity, second chances, hope in the new.

In some regards I was more than ready to shirk the awkward age of 19. At 19 I straddled the line of adolescence and adulthood, not quite regarded as an adult worthy of that consideration and somehow expected to take on undesirable responsibilities. 20 felt like rebirth.

So I cut my hair. I dreamed of doing something truly terrifying, like getting another hole in my ear or putting ink in my skin. I set my radical expectations down for the day I feel more willing to adventure.

My 20th birthday glowed with the warm brilliance of the sunset the moment before the sun plunges into the horizon. Friends of all genres: co-workers, roommates, professors, and family came together to express their love in beautiful ways. Truly nothing says “I love you” like stepping forward to give of yourself in the crush of life’s unrelenting business. Invest in the people around you. Tell them “Happy Birthday. Praise God you’re here”.

Over Christmas break I read Fitzgerald’s genius “This Side of Paradise”. One of my favorite quotes says this:

“At fifteen you had the radiance of early morning, at twenty you will begin to have the melancholy brilliance of the moon, and when you are my age you will give out, as I do, the genial golden warmth of 4pm”.

I hope to embody the melancholy brilliance of the moon this year, radiating maturity and a passion lost in today’s societal norm of apathy.

20, believe it or not, has already treated me well.

Thirdly, to return to my preexisting list, I have changed trajectories.

This is more dramatic than cutting my hair or turning 20. This means a release of dreams, a grasping at new straws, a fore-coming moment when the car is spinning in slow motion as if on a sheet of ice and I am sitting behind the wheel watching wide-eyed, unable to act one way or the other.

Since 15, since I was that innocent boy-crazed girl singing along to Rihanna and Taylor Swift in the back of the school bus with my punk friends, I’ve had my eyes firmly fixed on this dream of managing artists for a living. Ask anyone who’s talked to me for more than 2 minutes and they’ll tell you about my elaborate dreams I’d declare were “God-given”. Who knows if they were, but something January taught me is my God is not one to give us such a straight path to follow. He stretches. He pulls us in a direction – and hard, too. It’s not as simple as I made it.

He isn’t safe, but He’s always good. (C.S. Lewis)

“Where are you going with this?” I know you’re wondering.

Recently, for the first time ever (and after a year of doing this seemingly with no real intent of pursuing it as a career) I am considering the possibility of being a radio DJ for a living.

Folks have come out of nowhere in uncanny ways to move me in this direction – people I trust and love. For the first time, I feel like I’m losing my grip on my future.

I guess this is what happens when you radically pray “Not my will, but Yours be done”.

If you don’t follow me at all, in the last year, radio, with an increasing intensity, has become my job, a hobby, a place to find solace and peace from the things that haunt my mind and numb my fear of being alone. Talking on the radio is a salve to my tired mind, it makes me feel as though, even with one solitary listener, that I’m not the only one. Whether I’m hitting that microphone and talking about something embarrassing that just happened a class ago or spilling my guts about a spiritual issue there is something relational that happens when my voice goes out over the internet to whoever’s listening.

See, I don’t think I’m good at talking. I’m not eloquent. I don’t have the archetypal best radio voice, the greatest skills at storytelling, or the most excellent communication skills. I got to the place I was at this station because I worked hard. I never took pride in the art. I just did what was asked of me, and whenever possible, went above and beyond.

I realize now that God uses our insecurities to broadcast (no pun intended) His strengths. It is only when we are utterly humbled that God can use us.

Who knows if I’ll end up in radio. Maybe upon graduation I’ll be back down in Nashville as if nothing had changed.

As someone I admire very much once told me: “You don’t have to do anything. You just need to lean back into God and settle in for the ride”.

My favorite journeys are always the ones sprinkled with misadventure and certain danger.

To God I say, Your will be done. Let’s go.

til later & with much love in Christ,

angela

***Sophomore Year Part 2 commences.

Short hair don’t care 😉

Tiara’s forms of rebellion.

 

Having fun isn’t hard when you’ve got two good friends in class with you everyday.

My lovely roommate with our cootie catcher. Reliving those good old days FTW.

It’s been [really] cold here.

I want her to make me every drink.

We got station fish. Mine is this guy: “Ampu”. Josh’s is “P”.

The thoughts of my heart.

Thug life. Gotta get them Doritos.

This is my co-host. I promise he’s okay.

DSLRs are fun to have in the dorm. These faces are just so attractive though really

Sophomores: “If It Weren’t For Second Chances, We’d All Be Alone”

Thank you Gregory Alan Isakov for that lovely quote.

This is me tonight.

I tend to write when I have something to say, when my heart is so full of emotions it threatens to overflow into every part of me, spilling like ink throughout my body. That’s why I’m writing tonight.

I am so in need of second chances. I am so desperate for grace.

This semester has flown by in a whirlwind.

I know, everyone says that. But I could recount for you perfectly, in a flurry of pretty adjectives, what it felt like to see my dear roommate Casey after three months apart as she walked across the threshold into our new unit, seemingly as though it was yesterday. I could tell you how I single-handedly arranged all of the bulky furniture in our new dorm room  out of sheer willpower and determination to get it to where we wanted it. I remember the first couple night of this semester, spent alone, waiting for everyone else to arrive in an eerily empty unit built for eight, as though it was a few hours ago and not a few months.

I have watched my friends mature before my eyes, seen them come in conflict with immense physical trials and tackle them head-on, and watched them develop even deeper relationships with loved ones. I have seen people move away and I’ve met new people, and as my selfish heart always tends to, I’ve wondered about myself and where I fit in with all the people who surround me. How do they see me? Back to the constant drawing board of questions, back to the Q and A with God. Who am I again, Lord? I’ve questioned all over again who I am and what the heck I’m doing with my life and AM I ACTUALLY DOING ANYTHING RIGHT AT ALL

I’m a sophomore in college. And my first semester is dangling by a thread before my eyes.

I want to recap this semester as means of understanding what I’ve learned, who I am becoming, and what God is doing.

Some common themes of this semester:

1. release of bitterness

One thing I’ve realized, and this I know: if you have burdens, lay them down. stop hitting yourself over the head with things you regret doing and people you regret meeting and oh yeah that guy who came in (like a wrecking ball!) and almost completely destroyed you. You have to remember that like every other believer he’s washed by the blood of the Lamb and you just have to let God be God. He says what is His to avenge He’ll avenge. forget bitterness, laugh at your mistakes, hold your chin up high. Take your bitter root, dig through the soil of hurt, and rip it out despite how much pain it causes you. After all, the only one bitterness really hurts is you. 

2. peace isn’t always “fun”

Freshman year was a big party. We went out all the time driving and we pushed limits and we got emotional and we burned bright and flickered out fast. But now we’re sophomores and things are more serious. We spent our weekends studying like always, but instead of breaking out of campus to use that extra hour driving down country roads to our hearts’ content we tuck ourselves in at midnight. It’s as though the fire in us has simmered and we’re content with just doing what is required of us. Sometimes what you might think you want, what you call “peace”, isn’t really what you want at all. Find balance.

3. get used to being wrong.

I have had a majority of the truisms I cling to torn away from me in painful ways this year. This is the process that produces growth. We are sophomores. That can be translated as wise-fools. We are walking contradictions, arrogant one moment and humbled the next. This is my reality. The second I think I know something somebody smarter than me proves me wrong. ‘No, Angela, you’re not even close to being fluent in Spanish. Let’s take a look at your last oral exam, shall we?’ Get used to being proved wrong. Accept criticism. Proverbs 29:1:

Whoever stubbornly refuses to accept criticism will suddenly be broken beyond repair.

Yup. I’ve been broken beyond repair a couple times this semester.

4. stop thinking you don’t need anyone’s help.

I was talking with a dear friend the other day about her unfortunate concussion that has absolutely wrecked her ability to focus and concentrate, giving her unceasing headaches day in and day out, regardless of the medication she takes. She told me she believed God had used the concussion (a result of her actions) as a way to teach her about taking help. My friend is an extremely strong woman, more than capable of fending for herself. God found it necessary to refine her by making her a patient, someone that others must tend to and care for. She now values even more the beauty of a community where your issues aren’t a burden. They belong to each member of the community and they are attended to and prayed for. I’m tired of pretending like I’m alright. Hey, I need counseling. Hey Internet! I need counseling! I’m going to get counseling! I am fundamentally not alright – I desperately need the help of others to succeed. 

5. friendships are the most beautiful, difficult, rewarding, and challenging relationships (next to marriage).

never in my life have I been such good friends with other women. I am usually one to gravitate towards surrounding myself with guy friends, as a means of low-drama, low-stress, usually humor-driven community, but Cedarville has placed me intentionally in the path of – gasp! – other women. I live with eight women in close quarters. We do life together. I have found myself clinging to them (especially my dear roommate Casey) as a means of crisis control. I have an intense fear of being alone – especially after a summer spent mostly alone in a different city, (save for a couple individuals who comforted me in my loneliness). In turn (and to selfishly avoid the scary loneliness of my own soul), I have become very close with several different ladies, all of them incredible in their unique ways. Friendships are really really cool. Like I can come back to the dorm and just rage about all the junk happening in some class and immediately have attentive ears and well thought out answers. I can be my absolutely weird self, making funny noises or dancing like a fool. I can be 100% me around my friends. I think this is the first time in my life I can say that’s true. Up to now, I’ve always hidden  a part of me away because it’s just too honest or weird or stupid or (fill in the blank). Imagine a world where you could say anything and not get judged for it, but still be corrected in godliness? Welcome to my friendships. I AM GRATEFUL. Friendships are also difficult, however, because I’m no angel and they’re not angels and none of us really have God’s perfect nature so we’re dealing with each other in raw, emotional ways. I have to learn to bear with my sister in Christ, because she’s going through that, which is putting stress on her and making her treat me this way. I have to stop getting frustrated when I feel like I’m not being treated the way I deserve. I start loving regardless of how I perceive I am being loved. And that completely and totally of Christ.

I guess that ends my late-night rant. I am just so worked up on energy from finals and so done with my never-ending emotional cycles of high, nervous emotions right before I take an exam and the depression that sets in after I fail to fulfill my own expectations for myself. I can’t sleep, specifically for reason #3 listed above.

My most recent mini-heart attack involves sending my spanish teacher the wrong draft of a final group paper. she graded the whole thing, noted that we never corrected our errors, and slapped a mediocre B on it.

i quickly emailed her the FINAL version of the paper, apologizing profusely, worry already clouding my vision and dark thoughts already racing across my mind:

“Now Joe is going to hate you. You screwed up. How could you send the wrong draft of your paper? Really?!”

“You are just wasting everyone’s time. After all Senora has done on your behalf. You’re doing this?!

“You’re not good at anything Angela. Just stop now and do yourself a favor.”

Lies. All of them, each speaking louder than the next and drowning the still small voice of my Savior out like the clang of a thousand gongs.

See, this is finals week.

For a perfectionist, this is do-or-die.

You screw this week up, and “you are just not good enough”.

As much as I try to convince myself to just let go, I can’t. I always want to cling to my grades as a validation of my worth.

Sophomores, perfectionists and procrastinators, A students and C students, hear me out: WE ARE NOT OUR GRADES. We are not our mistakes. We are not who we impress. 

Learning doesn’t mean just getting that A. Learning means making fewer mistakes. Stop making the mistake of thinking what you get in that class is definitive of your future.

Let’s never stop learning.

in Christ,

angela

here are some pictures of me doing things:

eating snow (and loving it)

recording with Tiara for my sales spec spot (first production work in forever)

eating chic-fil-a peppermint shakes with the fam!

waiting to enter Dr.Baker’s office for the first time

typical day with my besties

my dorm (little inspiration from Creative Trust)

Campus Christmas is here. Thanks SCAB and Rinnova.

yep

reached 1000 miles on my Honda!

Last visit to Haha’s for the semester.

Wrapped up Amp Up with Rebie this semester. I’m going to miss her greatly.

Beautiful Business

Cedarville Year 2 is in full swing.

All my dearest friends are gathered in one place, each pursuing their completely different paths in life with all their energy and gusto. Each of us is involved in at least 5 different groups: we have a group for discipleship, a small group with church, our individual orgs, campus jobs, and countless other meetings related to academics.

Oh, and we’re all taking average amounts of coursework.

Our lives are characterized by this beautiful busyness – constantly on the go, yet always looking for opportunities to sit down and enjoy one another’s company.

This too is my life.

If you were to ask me how I’m doing, I would enthusiastically say “So well”. And I’d be telling the truth.

I’m constantly infused with God’s grace here. I can’t turn to my left or right without being reminded of it.

Today I spoke to my college President Dr.White on the radio, and as he spoke his heart about what makes Cedarville University special I remembered the grace of God. He brought me here. He brought our new President here. And He is so good.

Some might visit Cedarville and feel like they’re drowning in Christianity. Everything focuses on Christ, all the time. “Do they ever talk about anything else?” some might ask.

No. They don’t. We don’t.

The more I dwell on this I realize that I am so glad, for my wandering heart’s sake, that Christ’s name echoes continually around this campus. Because I forget grace far too easily.

Recently I reached what I consider a “plateau”. It’s a plateau of contentment. It’s satisfaction in the here-and-now. It involves me picking up my ideas of my future and gathering them in a big messy heap and handing them over to the Lord.

Therefore, no more wondering about when some guy will sweep me off my feet:

Jesus says pursue my Kingdom.

No questions about whether the music business is right for me.

Jesus says I have you where I want you.

No freaking out about tomorrow.

Jesus says today is enough.

Here are some pictures, because all the books I read about having an online presence say pictures are important. Hey, and if you didn’t read my post at least you saw the pictures, right?

Fall Break Adventures: Natalie and I made art in the Columbus Museum of Art. (apparently it’s getting exhibited???)

Stephen Curtis Chapman show with the Broadcasting majors. Such a privilege.

My girls. They keep me sane.

Rest for the Weary

I am weary.

I’m not talking about a physical weariness – I slept splendidly last night (for the first time in my brand new dorm room!) – I’m talking about an emotional weariness, a deep-seated discontentment with who I am.

“What?” you ask. “I know a couple of things about you, and I know that you spent a summer in Nashville, your favorite city, and you interned in the music business. That’s what you want to do in life…isn’t it?? How could you be weary emotionally? Your life is pretty good.”

You, hypothetical sir, are entirely correct. Everything is great.

I spent a summer in Nashville. I interned at a really nice record label called Centricity. I learned a lot about A&R and marketing. I did a lot of work with awesome people, had a lot of fun, visited places I’d only dreamed about, and met people I’ve admired for a long time.

I had fun outside of the label too! I made friends, took the town, stayed out late and visited new places, turned up the music and stopped worrying about my future for two seconds. I had an absolutely incredible 3 months, definitely some of the best of my entire life, and yet as I sit here ready to begin my sophomore year at Cedarville with a bunch of valuable music biz experience under my belt, and I am deeply dissatisfied.

I am in another one of my funks. This time, I’m discontent and discouraged.

I feel like I suck at everything.

I don’t know if you know what it’s like to be criticized about what you want to do for the rest of your life. It is intensely humbling, crushing, defeating, and necessary all at once.

I am awful at taking criticism. It makes me want to go hide and cry and come back with tear-stained brave face a couple minutes later. I am a sensitive soul, a people pleaser; I want everything to be happy and I want people to be happy with me. The second I get corrected, insulted, or criticized I just want to throw my hands up and apologize profusely and somehow remove my problematic self from the situation.

Growth takes pain. Learning takes correction and criticism. This summer I experienced both. And you want to know something sad?

All I can see right now is the sad stuff.

I look bad on this summer and I just think sad.

The hard days. The days when I felt so awful at whatever I was doing that I wanted to call my mom and pack my bags and abandon this crazy stupid dream of being an artist manager. I had some days that I convinced myself that the music business couldn’t possibly be for me, that I wasn’t cut out for it and I wouldn’t ever be ready to enter it.

I was ready to throw my dreams in the trash.

Seriously!

Since my freshman year of high school, when I feel like God kind of set me on this path to work towards serving artists for a living, I have been dreaming of working as an artist manager for a band I believe in. Ever since then, I’ve been reaching towards this dream, meeting people and networking, getting to know the music. And all it took was one bad day to make me start considering other career options.

Does this mean that the music business isn’t for me?

Absolutely not.

Anything worth doing is going to be hard.

I am an overly enthusiastic, passionate person. I have so much to learn in terms of when I should talk and when I should be quiet, when my opinion is better off being kept to myself.

Okay. Lesson learned. I choose to take that knowledge about myself and use it to grow and get better.

I am tired of growing discouraged by my perceived failures. All I’ve heard lately is correction, and my heart longs to be encouraged.

“Just tell me I’m doing alright,” my heart cries, “please, just tell me I’m okay the way I am”.

My Savior has some different things to say about me than the devilish voices of my mind.

I say I’m WORTHLESS. He calls me his WORKMANSHIP.

I am NOT the ugly mess of a person I see myself as.

I am a daughter of God. Call it stereotypical or overly Christian, I don’t care.

I am so sick of believing my own lies about my identity. I have gotten into a slump this past week thinking nobody really likes the real me. That is utterly ridiculous, a lie from the mouth of Satan.

God loves me. He’s growing me. I’m imperfect but perfectly loved.

I have a radio show, people in my life that love me and want the best for me, and I have friends in Tennessee who are excited to see who I become in the future. I have a fresh, brand new at Cedarville ahead of me that’s sure to be less dramatic and tragic than last year, full of possibilities for community and personal growth.

I’m sitting here alone in my dorm (I’m back a week early for Resound (our radio station on campus)’s boot-camp week)…excited for it to be full of lovely friends in under a week’s time, I’m reading Bible verses about my identity in Christ and feeling my heart relax. I just Googled “Bible verses about identity in Christ”…here’s a list if you want it: http://voices.yahoo.com/bible-verses-our-identity-christ-gods-view-5563445.html?cat=34.

let’s stop believing Satan’s lies about who we once and for all. every day, let’s go out secure in who God says we are. no more of this crap about how awful of people we are.

I am going to keep telling myself, I am CHRIST’S BELOVED, and I’m FREAKING GOING TO BE IN THE MUSIC BUSINESS BECAUSE THAT IS WHERE GOD HAS CALLED ME AND I WILL DO WHAT IT TAKES TO BE THE PERSON I NEED TO BE TO GET THERE.

My future is secure.

in Christ,

angela

here are some pictures of my life:

Top left to right: Barista Parlor, the too-cool-for-school East Nash coffee joint, me and Marsh (the coolest eva!), the Lights exhibit at Cheekwood, the incredible Imagine Dragons in concert, me riding in a party bus and being my version of seductive, Kyle and I at Waffle House late one night, Nashville sign on a shop on Broadway, Nashville skyline from the river, me listening to A&R demos at the label.

 

Photo credit to Hannah Moyer. We just took this picture today, it’s a promo picture for our radio show “Amp Up”! So excited to co-host another semester with Rebie!