The Power of Words

I have been inspired lately by the teaching series at our lovely church on the Power of Words.

The words that have been spoken over us are powerful.  I was reading this blog post from Allison Vesterfelt about self-identity and it asked a very important question: where do you get the words you use to describe yourself from?

If you think about it, many of the words we use to describe ourselves are words that others have used to describe us. Words that have been spoken us, either positively or negatively. For one reason or another, though many words spoken over me have been words filled with love, sincerity, and thankfulness, I have always tended to focus on the negative. You’re stupid. You’re a liar. You’re annoying, weird, a little crazy. You're just plain not worthy of love.

And the strange part is that I'm sure more positive words have been spoken over me more often than the negative ones above. Some of those words were never even spoken by friends or family or any person in particular. They were just words that got stuck in my brain by some other negative spirit force out there.* And yet for some reason I have chosen to focus on them, rather than on all of the good things people (and my Father) think about me. And so often I wonder why I let the few bad things that have been said about me suddenly define everything I am. The negative spirit is winning.

Another one of my friends wrote this beautiful post about her body (it isn’t nearly as revealing as it sounds, but it sure is intimate). One of her points includes choosing believing what people say. Though that part of her “Bodies are Amazing” series has yet to be written , I would imagine that she will talk about believing the people who tell her that she is beautiful, and that they love her curly hair, and that her body is a blessing and not a curse.

My deal is not with my body. It is with my soul. With... well...  ME.

I have trouble believing that who I am is beautiful; that I should like my weird quirks instead of trying to be what somehow got defined as “normal;” that who I am is a blessing and not a curse.

Photo via (rachelraedotme)

But I am starting to believe these things. I can’t always pinpoint on exactly how. Part of believing is the wonderful help that comes in the form of good friends who speak beautiful words of truth about you. Allison in her post above talks about the importance of finding good friends. Another part of believing is that wonderful word called choice. You can choose what to believe, what words spoken over you to accept as truth. I can’t help but think of my best friend and one of her favourite phrases her mom taught her to say, "I don’t accept that." And you always say it a little indignant and with a little bit of rebellion. I don’t accept the negative words you choose to speak over me. I don’t accept your judgement of my inadequateness. And the things I do accept? All those wonderful words about me that have been poured out onto the pages of the greatest book ever written. 

I choose to believe what my Father says and to love the soul that is me.

May you choose the same for you.

*The devil is his name and lying is his game, my friends.