Am I Being Called: Mind Dump

I have this nudging toward growth in an unknown area. I don’t know if I am to be an inspiration, a moral compass, a listener, a thinker, but God is pushing me somewhere. I feel like recently I’ve discovered what I am not, even more so specifically than before.

In the past, I trained on tech, but lost my patience and the enjoyment of imparting knowledge to the less enthused. Training makes me feel like a bullshitter, tricking the cows into their pens. It is not my intention, and my true intentions are to show them how things are done and to allow their own creativity/ideas take over from there, but many are cynical and skeptical of being led.

I love listening to people talk. I get insights into who they are, what they are wrestling with, what they want to be, and what’s stopping them. I learn how they operate (in some areas), how they react inside (not just outwardly), what they value and trust.

Although wrought with cancerous mistakes and shame, I feel I’m a good judge of character. I feel wise, and I know one day I will laugh at that thought. Wisdom is something that always interest me. I feel wise, but stupid.

I recall a bible devotion I read one early afternoon while sitting in my van. It was about God’s promises to Abraham about having many children and the faithfulness to believe in promises. It ended with ask God what his promises are you “you.” I have been revisiting this thought. God, what do you promise me? I don’t know where to go, what to be doing, or if I’m in the right spot by questioning/searching/waiting. I

I’m not a lover of the spotlight, but I want to share and impart to others on a massive scale. I say that, but in the same existence, I feel as if I’ve squandered that away from my own family. I hid mistakes, dark, ugly mistakes all the while professing an authentic existence, refusing to be anything other than I am. All the while hiding my mistakes and fearing them being seen because I knew I’d be defined by those and not what I wanted to be.

My friend shared with me a verse in Romans about how I do what I hate because I’m a flesh and bone creature, but I hate what I do, and that’s good proof there is a God inside of me. It’s really all a jumbled mess.

I exposed my ugliness to my wife, and eventually my children, and eventually whoever I felt I needed to come clean with. My mistakes were downplayed by those who don’t feel the weight of my mistakes. Maybe by those who place hierarchy on mistakes, but I know the true weight and shame, it’s mine to bear. Through exposure, I found love, briefly before it became shrouded in suspicion (mine not hers). I opened the doors to the light and quickly found it is night outside. Free, but still darkness surrounds.