Monday, June 9, 2014


Sometimes is is easier to pretend than to be real.
It's easier for me to pretend that I am ok.
To pretend I am not racked with
and the list goes on...

Because doesn't fake live longer?
I mean, like,  forever?
Doesn't the artificial end up superior in the race for longevity?
It is plastic and perfect, streamlined and efficient.

From Barbie in the dream house to the nails on my fingertips to the fruit in the coffee table bowl.

And there are days I want that.
All. of. That.

I want the plastic existence.
I want to pretend.
I put forward the artificial.
Because it feels like perfection.
It feels like it.

Plastic doesn't yell at her kids and escape by letting them linger on their devices all day.
Mrs. Pretender doesn't ever cry herself to sleep, isn't consumed by fear.
Artificial doesn't get angry at the world and circumstances.
*eye roll*

But the fruit in the bowl?
I notice it's dusty.
Untouched. Unused.
A pre-relic with no purpose.

Someone has to create her life for her.
She doesn't even have the power to move, to breathe.
She cannot reproduce life...she cannot even live it.

And these french tips?
They can't grow. They just cover up the real thing.

So what's missing?
Life. Real life.
The plastic, the perfect, is only offering us a deceptive invitation to imitation.

And so we RSVP because the pretending and the plastic seems to hurt so much least in public, anyway.

The artificial doesn't have to feel all that fear and pain and hurt...right?
But it also never has the opportunity to heal...
to love,
to grow,
to reproduce the beauty that makes this world worth waking up to,
to find purpose and to go hard and fast in the direction of her dreams.

It's true: fake may last longer. But it doesn't actually live.

So today, I am ripping up piled high stationery on the desk of my life.
All those invitations that beckon me to dress up and put on my best appearance, plastic performance.
All those masquerade balls that want me to exist in artificial anonymity so that others aren't inconvenienced by my imperfections- my living.
I. am. shredding. them. ALL.

Because we all have one ultimate choice to make:
imitate life
live it.

Me? I choose Grace. Scandalous Grace.
It is the only way I will ever truly live.

What do you choose?

John 1:16
"For from His fullness we have all received grace upon grace."

John 10:10
"The thief comes only to steal kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly."