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  • road2royalty2021

I belong...

Updated: Oct 28, 2021

I stood at the altar as I had many times before. There was a nervous icky-ness present I was not at all familiar with. With my head bowed, eyes closed, I pressed into the presence of the Lord with the simple question, "What do You want to show me today?" I must admit I was a bit frustrated when that question was not immediately answered. I returned to my seat and continue to quietly pondered what this icky-ness was that I was feeling.

Somewhere in my quiet worship, I caught myself staring at the women on stage with that same icky-ness. It bothered me. The fact that I knew He was trying to show me something through this "icky-ness" bothered me even more. Toward the end of the service, I remembered a small detail from my youth and really, quite honestly, did not want to give it any more thought.

It was a quick glimpse, like a snap-shot, of an elementary aged me approaching a lunch table with my lunch sack. "But God, I released that hurt a long, long time ago," I responded. I did not let myself give the picture-or the emotions behind it, any more thought.

He would not let me go one more day feeling like I don't belong. I could feel Him tugging at me so He could bring me freedom in this area. After all, I certainly do not want to be mistakenly convinced that I am not good enough to do what He called me to do. "Okay Papa, show me." I prayed.

The full memory came to the surface. Fourth grade. Desperate for belonging. Desperate for acceptance. Desperate for fellowship. Desperate. The girls that sat at this table every day were the popular kids in my grade. They were well dressed. They were well liked. They had the attention of the whole fourth grade in our school. Besides being made fun of on an almost daily basis for my short hair, hand me down clothes, and gap teeth, they never spoke to me. Until one of them made me an offer. If I gave her my lunch box, I could sit with them.

The next day, I packed my lunch in a brown paper bag and presented my lunch box to my new friend. She took my lunch box, then said to me, "I'm sorry, the dogs eat outside."

I did not say a word in my own defense. Immediately my eyes filled with tears as she suggested there is room for me under the tree outside. I did go outside to eat my lunch out of that brown paper bag under the big oak tree all by myself; all the while pondering inside why I was not good enough. Somewhere during my meal I made an inner vow that I would never let anyone else get close enough to me to hurt me like that again.

Unfortunately for my fragile spirit, that vow never took root until a few years later when I finally had been hurt deep enough.

I asked Jesus as these memories were brought to the surface, "Where were You during this (lunchtime memory)?"

"I sat with you under that tree, soaking up all of your prayers. I heard you talking to Me. Katherine, you are enough. You belong to me. You can always sit at My table. "

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