I saw you at the store today. You said “Hey, how are you?” in that familiar tone. You rang in my purchases with a smile and contoured cheekbones. You were 18, and the world was before you. People loved you. You were best friends with all of the girls, and the boys … they didn’t know what to make of you. They didn’t know how to interact with you. They were jealous of your popularity, your confidence, your quick words. You were the confidante, the advice-giver, the sympathizer and the empathizer. You were something they would never be, and something they never wanted to be. You were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. But it was an act. With flowing hair and an evening gown, and the voice of an angel, you put on quite a show.
On a cold morning on a moonlit beach, you – the real you – began to reach for the surface. I saw you, and you saw through me. And the real you was so much more beautiful than the façade could ever be. The one you were created to be didn’t need to be the center of attention, didn’t need to be the most popular, the most flamboyant, the most … anything. The one you were created to be needed to be loved and accepted and validated and heard. But not by those girls, or by the silent consent of the boys, or by the woman who gave you life, or the man you called Father. You needed the love and validation of your Father God, the one who truly gave you life, who made you who you are, and who doesn’t want you to hide behind some misconstrued idea of what society expects from you. Hiding behind that identity, the identity that everyone else has created for you, would be dishonest.
And you didn’t know who you were. Behind that façade, you didn’t know your Designer. You pretended to. You knew the right words, but you didn’t understand them.
On a cold morning on a moonlit beach, you – the real you – began to reach for the surface. I saw you, and you saw through me. And the real you was so much more beautiful than the façade could ever be. The one you were created to be didn’t need to be the center of attention, didn’t need to be the most popular, the most flamboyant, the most … anything. The one you were created to be needed to be loved and accepted and validated and heard. But not by those girls, or by the silent consent of the boys, or by the woman who gave you life, or the man you called Father. You needed the love and validation of your Father God, the one who truly gave you life, who made you who you are, and who doesn’t want you to hide behind some misconstrued idea of what society expects from you. Hiding behind that identity, the identity that everyone else has created for you, would be dishonest.
You are the man God has created you to be. A man who loves deeply, who sees things other people miss, who understands what beauty is made of, and who sees it all around him. Don’t ever be ashamed of the man you are, the man you are created to be. Be who God made you to be.
Be that man.
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