"And where is that coming from? What voice is it that you hear telling you these things?"
It's a question that my therapist is starting to ask more and more. Most of the time, I think, she knows the answer. She just wants me to actually admit it. Vocalize it. Realize and own where the voices in my head converge into a singular voice.
She asked me again this past week where my thoughts and feelings originated. Once more she asked what voice it is that I hear. And for the first time, it sunk in.
I'm coming to realize that I have internalized my traumas. I can hardly tell what voice it is anymore that I hear. It all sounds like my voice at this point, simply repeating what I believe to be true about my nature and character and being. For so long I have accepted these "truths" about myself under the guise of my own voice. But this week, after hearing this question from my therapist for the upteenth time, it was like a fog lifted. If only for a millisecond. And I could see clearly.
What voice do I hear?
I hear the voice of that boyfriend in high school that told me I was ugly. Told me I was worthless. Told me I don't deserve to be treated well.
What voice do I hear?
I hear every teacher that ever told me I have so much "potential." A harmless statement, except for the fact that already I had that other voice telling me I wasn't enough on my own, and so the concept that I had potential meant that I was, in that moment, "less than" what I "could be." It felt like confirmation from those I looked up to that I wasn't actually good enough as I was.
What voice do I hear?
I hear my ex-fiance's voice as he left. Again confirming the belief that I wasn't enough on my own. Confirming the belief that I didn't deserve something that had made me so happy.
What voice do I hear?
I hear every doctor and nurse and lab tech that has looked past my own tear-filled and anxious eyes to see only a chart and medical history. I hear their voices reducing my essence to what can be quantified on a sheet of paper.
What voice do I hear?
So, so many voices. I hear a crowd of them. Pressing in on my ears. Blocking out my senses. All I can hear is this. This onslaught of what I have so long perceived to be truth. Waves of them crash into me like the ocean. Pulling me under their current and out into a sea of negativity and depression and anger.
"What voice is it that you hear telling you these things?"
My guess is that my therapist will keep asking this question. She'll slowly turn the lid of the jar of thoughts and emotions I've so long sealed away until one day, when I'm ready, we'll open it up together.
In the meantime, I'm thinking about these voices. I'm thinking about the ever-present crowd of them. As I reflect, my mind keeps turning over the multitude of voices I hear. When I stop the chatter in my head, and the churning sea of assertions about who I am stills, I remember that Scripture talks about a sea of voices too.
The writer of Hebrews calls it a "cloud of witnesses." Those who have gone before me and you in faith. Those who have run their own races through life and are now at rest in God. They raise their voices and cheer us on as we run our own races.
What would change if I heard those voices instead?
Like the voice of the youth minister that told me I had a gift for teaching. Who complimented my skill in writing curriculum. Who was the first person to give me a chance to study the Bible with the intent of sharing what I'd learned with others.
What would change if I heard those voices instead?
Like the voice of the FCA Golf staff member who gave me the opportunity to be a mentor to young golfers. Who told me I had a talent for writing training tools and complimented the handbook I helped create. Who always looked at me with love and kindness in her eyes, like I was a beloved child.
What would change if I heard those voices instead?
Like the voice of my velcro-grandfather. Who thinks I hung the moon. Who has "adopted" me for no reason other than being fond of me. Who tells me every time that we speak that he's "in my corner" and that he is "quite a fan" of me. Who has cried with me, and laughed with me. Who is always willing to listen, and always giving me a crinkle-eyed grin and a hearty chuckle when I make him laugh.
What would change if I heard those voices instead?
Like the voice of my most beloved professor, turned roommate, turned dear friend. Who has been by my side through the most trying periods of my life. Who has cheered me on in the classroom, but never reduced my essence to what can be quantified in a gradebook. Who helped me discover that I can have a ministry in my writing, and who helped stoke the fire of my passion for working through words.
What would change if I heard those voices instead?
So, so many voices that have spoken Truth and Goodness and Beauty over me. Who are in that cloud of witnesses, cheering me on and helping me to run the race before me with endurance.
There's one final key, though. The writer of Hebrews mentions this cloud of witnesses surrounding us. On all sides we are encompassed by the shouts of our fellow humans, but even as we run this race and even as we listen to all that surrounds us, we must fix our eyes forward, looking to Jesus.
That is the voice I most long to hear. And it's the voice, if I'm being honest, I am most likely to ignore. I have felt rejection after rejection as confirmation of my lack of worth. It's easy to ignore the Person that says otherwise. But Jesus has been quietly persistent, calling to me even when I can hear nothing but the raging sea of accusation. The fact remains, whether I accept it or not, that Jesus has called me Beloved. Jesus, the very Word made flesh, speaks words over me like Worthy and Abundant and Overcomer. Jesus speaks words of Faith and Hope and Love over me, and invites me to live daily into the truth of this great dominion of Heaven come to Earth.
So I invite you, dear reader, to ask yourself what voices you hear. Are they voices ringing out in cheers from the cloud of witnesses? Or are they voices that erupt from the raging and churning sea of doubt and accusation? What word is it that you are listening to? I pray that as you listen to the many words filling our ears in this world, you remember the Word spoken at the beginning of time. The Word in which you and I live and move and have our being. The Word which lived and died and rose again. The Word which now lives and reigns and loves. The Word that has called you Beloved.
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