Beth Moore’s got me thinking about insecurity. And I think it makes me more insecure than ever.

What little confidences I had now seem like a 2 foot wall around the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I wasn’t fooling anyone. They all still see the flaws. They point. They take pictures. They stand on the wall and mock me by pretending to hold me up. I know I’m falling apart, but you aren’t supposed to. I thought I had that all tucked away nicely behind the wall.

The problem with insecurity is that people won’t believe you. They think I shouldn’t be insecure because I’m thin and tall. Yeah? Well I don’t think you should be insecure because you’re comfortable in social situations and your bed is made. So there. Beth addresses this in the book. She calls it a “false positive.” What is the one thing that you think would make you secure? If I _____, then I would be secure. Could lose ten pounds, had a college degree, had a million dollars, could sing/write/speak like him/her.

I’m trying to figure out my “prominent false positive,” but I can’t narrow it down. I think several of them sound pretty nice. Today I’ll take intelligence for 500. Thanks, Trebek.

My parents, wonderful people that they are, didn’t require me to get certain grades in school. They wanted me to try hard, but also realized that sometimes other things are more important than schoolwork. (An audible gasp would sound in our little corner of the country if some parents heard that). They told us to do our best…but then again...sometimes, when it’s the middle of the night and the project is due tomorrow, and you’re exhausted and frustrated…sometimes, you should, “Just get it done,” as my dad would say. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just get it done.” And I would. And I was ok with that.

In college I started to care more about my grades. On some assignments, for some classes, I was okay with my dad’s old philosophy of “just getting it done.” Western Civilizations and Music Appreciation fall into that category. There were other classes though, especially toward the end of school, that I started to…I don’t know…care about. This “care” is one of the possible explanations for the assiduous flash card making that took place. You know, it makes sense. I am passionate about ministry to youth so it makes sense that I would want to do well in my Youth Ministry classes.

The other potential (read: likely) motive for the crazy flash cards (seriously, my backseat was full of them), was that a deeply-rooted tendency toward perfectionism was becoming more of a stronghold in my life. “Just getting it done” didn’t really coincide with my goal of graduating cum Laude. By my senior year, I had figured out what grade I needed for every test, every class. But when I realized that goal, as I was sitting there in my cap and gown, I began thinking that if I had really applied myself I could have graduated Magna cum Laude. No doubt, meeting that hypothetical would only leave me lonely with the longing for Summa. The pride and joy I had expected from those tiny Latin words simply eluded me. (It may have been because they put the little gold “cum Laude” sticker on my degree crooked. Come on, guys. You just can’t do that to a perfectionist. Ruins everything).

When I achieved my goal I didn’t feel secure like I thought I would. I longed for more.

I see your point, Beth. It is a false positive.

We need to tackle this thing. Well…we either need to tackle it, or I’m going to need some bigger walls.