So much wasted

When we take the time to stop and

honestly examine our lives;

we begin to realize how much of them

has been wasted seeking the approval

of other people.

So much of our pain comes from the

choices we make and the

consequences that follow.

For years, I searched for someone to tell

me I was enough and that my life had

meaning. I wanted other people to

define my reality for me because I didn't

know how to do this myself. As I sought

people’s approval, it led to nothing but

disappointment and hurt—not because

people were mean, but because we

must not seek our worth in others.

Looking back now, one of my biggest

regrets is realizing there are no “redos”

in this life. We cannot reclaim yesterday.

We cannot relive the years we have

already spent.

But there is hope.

As long as there is life, there is hope.

There is still an opportunity to finish the

race in a far better condition than when

we began. (That’s up to us in how we

respond.) I truly believe God can

redeem wasted years. I have seen Him

do it in my own life.

My search for approval became a dark

prison.

Every opinion became my mirror.

Every rejection became my identity.

It led me to living a very isolated and

fearful life that was filled with

hopelessness until I eventually shut

down so completely that one day I

nearly took my own life.

But by the grace of God, I survived.

Years before that dark day, when I was

fourteen years old, something happened

that I didn’t fully understand at the time.

My family had arrived late to church. As

we were finding our seats, I heard the

pastor say one sentence that stopped

me in my tracks:

“God loves you unconditionally.”

I remember turning toward him in

disbelief.

“What?”

“I don’t have to be perfect to earn His

love?”

“I don’t have to become someone I’m

not before He loves me?”

It sounded too good to be true.

I left that service not realizing those few

words would remain with me for

decades.

Thirty-two years later, cancer entered

my life.

Everything changed.

For the first time in my life, I was

confronted with the possibility of dying.

Everything I once believed was so

important suddenly became insignificant

compared to the possibility of losing the

life I had taken for granted.

Cancer forced me to confront questions

I had avoided for years. It exposed the

deeper reasons my life had taken the

direction it had. It taught me that life is

far more valuable than wanting to be

liked and accepted by others.

Most importantly, it brought me back to

the same truth I first heard as a

fourteen-year-old girl.

My worth was never meant to come

from people or from my circumstances.

It was always meant to come from

God—the One who created me.

That realization changed everything.

I finally began to understand why

Scripture describes wisdom as crying

aloud in the streets.

Every day we stand before a choice.

We can either continue following our

own desires and trusting our own

understanding, or we can humble

ourselves and listen to the voice that

leads to life.

Wisdom produces discipline.

Self-will produces regret.

We have complete freedom to choose.

But we do not have the freedom to

choose the consequences that follow

our choices.

Every decision moves us toward either

life or death.

Every day we are given is another

opportunity to choose wisely—to turn

from darkness and walk in the light.

Looking back over forty-seven years, I

have learned that discipline always

demands a price, but it produces lifelong

rewards.

Regret also demands a price. The

difference is that we often don't realize

how costly it is until the consequences

have already arrived.

Today, I choose the discipline that

produces character instead of the

comfort that slowly destroys it.

If there is one thing I hope you take

away from my story, it is this:

We cannot rewrite yesterday, and we

are not promised tomorrow, but today is

still in our hands.

Do not waste the life God has given you

by trying to find acceptance in people.

Instead, discover who you are in the

eyes of the One who made you.

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