I did not recognize it for what it was. I was letting my confidence be determined by what I wore. When I thought I dressed good, I would expect the world to prostrate at my feet. When I did not feel so great in what I was wearing, I would be the one at their mercy; seeking some sort of validation.
When you find yourself living like this, then there is something fundamentally wrong with your sense of worth.
Your sense of worth should not be based on your qualifications, possession, appearance, family name, nationality, tribe… No, none of these define you — your real worth.
You know, as a Christian, couple of times in church we have been taught that our identity should be sought in Christ, and who Christ says we are. I would admit that this knowledge was yet to sink in, deeply.
I have known this. Turned it over in my heart. And that is only how far I have gone with the thought.
As I sat in a bus conveying me to church, I thought about two Sunday experiences. Both Sundays I was excited about going to church. Genuine excitement. The type that is borne from memories of a wonderful fellowship experience.
On the first Sunday, I was wearing one of my best dresses. My hair was *on fleek. My makeup double-checked. And my fragrance, alluring. As I walked out of my home and even into the church, I could sense myself giving off the I’m-sexy-and-I-know-it vibe.
Needless to say, these encumbrances made it difficult to concentrate during the worship, as I constantly found myself checking out other people’s attire. And you know what happens when you troll such a lane. And did I add that people were not gawking at me as expected? But this was not where I struggled with low self esteem or almost died from it.
On the second of the two Sundays, I almost backed out of going to church because I did not feel confident in what I was wearing. I could barely get past the front door of the house, with only my dad, my uncle and two other persons putting stuff in place for a house party scheduled to hold later in the day. I was not poorly dressed. I lacked the required confidence to rock my dress choice, after picking it out the day before.
After two attempts of walking to the door and back to the room, I almost talked myself out of going to church – a service I had looked forward to attending. I eventually mustered confidence, talked myself back into going to church and walked myself out of the front door and to church.
It was while in the bus en route church that illumination hit me: My self esteem should emanate from some place deeper. It should be hinged on a firm substance, not passing shadows.
Whether or not I am dressed well, can speak eloquently, turn heads, calculate the most difficult algebra on my feet, make knees bow at my presence, the knowledge of who I am in Christ and whose I am should be foremost.
In Christ and from Christ, ought every believer’s confidence to stem. Neologists term it Godfidence. This is a state where a believer absolves herself of all credit to self, man or man-made things and turns it all over to God, establishing Him her source. It is an act of worship, and where God is worshipped, He is pleased and comes into full stature.
As I stepped into church on the second Sunday, with the knowledge of my identity in Christ sunk in deeply, I cared less about what I was wearing and how I looked. I was secured in God’s love for me. As you might guess, I picked up some stares. But this time, I did not need it.