Give me a sign

Learning the way to self-acceptance

“I think you struggle with self-acceptance” a friend told me quite casually across an over-priced latte in a London coffee shop. I didn’t quite know how to reply. I wanted to defend myself against such a claim, but after a short, silent pause to check how that idea had landed in my heart I responded - “you might be right”.

I thought I knew myself quite well. I’ve done every personality test going. I know my MBTI, my enneagram, attachment styles, love languages, strength-finders, I’ve done enough therapy and journalling to unearth some of the triggers and particular traumas that may have become root causes in how I feel, but this idea was a new one to me. I don’t think I’d named an issue quite so directly or succinctly before, but it seemed to ring true - I don’t really accept myself.

Growing up I often found reason to believe I wasn’t good enough, or didn’t fit the mould, or the expectations of those around me - there were parts of me that I wanted rid of, that I didn’t even want to embrace as being part of “me” at all, and to add to that, I found language in my Christian upbringing to spiritualise that idea - denying yourself, dying to self, the ‘sinful nature’. I had spent so much time rejecting parts of myself that I attributed to being evil, wrong, broken - all just because they didn’t fit in with the story that others were telling me.

I carried a heavy shame buried deep down. A belief that something in me was wrong, not good enough, and simply unlovable - and on that rocky foundation I started to build my identity. I’ve come to realise that whenever we carry this feeling, however big or small the insecurity, we can always find temporary ways to patch it up.

I found it in making things. I got into animation and movie-making as a kid, I’d show the videos to my family and friends and feel something in me soothed as they complemented my work. “I have value because of what I make”, the internal dialogue began. As I later got into music and releasing songs and videos, I felt this all the more. I found my calling, I found my meaning! I write songs that are helping people and giving them language to connect with God. And the comments would roll in, more and more each year. It was incredibly validating.

And it’s not to say that I only do these things because of my self-rejection. That would be to minimise a whole career and all the good that has come from it. There were many pure intentions in the writing and creating, and I still feel it is a part of me in a way that I consider to be a beautiful gift and immense privilege - to be able to write and create music. But like anything good, it can easily become something you depend on, a source of affirmation and reason to see value in yourself.

But there are few things more unstable than the opinions of an audience. If this was where I was to find my value, it was becoming an unstable ground. A hate comment here and there, someone didn’t like my voice, someone preferred my old songs, the song I thought was the best one ended up being the least listened-to on the album, somebody questioned my lyrics, someone compared me to an artist I don’t even like… these were a very small percentage of comments in the midst of mostly positive ones but when they rocked my confidence, they exposed how much weight I was also putting on the good comments.

But it’s not just through work that I found this patch-me-up solution. There were plenty of external sources that could add to that internal narrative. “I’m accepted because my friends like me”, “I’m secure because I have family”, “I’m worthy of love because I got in a relationship”, “I’m likeable because I make people laugh”, “I’m cool because the barista complimented my outfit this morning”.

None of these are bad things in themselves, in fact, they’re good things. But even the good things in life can end up disproportionately becoming our source of value. We are meant to have these good things in life but they were never meant to be the measure of our worth. And if we build our identity and sense of self upon the external things, we’ll always be at their mercy. But one thing is for sure, even with the best friends, best parents, best partner, they will always be, like everything good and beautiful this side of eternity: imperfect and temporary.

What happens when friends let us down? What happens after a break-up? What happens when a family member passes away? What happens when the song you wrote was kind of a flop? What happens when the barista doesn’t complement your jacket?

I needed to come to a place of accepting myself - of having this deep-rooted sense of knowing. Knowing that I have value, that I’m chosen, that I’m accepted and loved as I am. And as much as I looked inward to try and settle this within myself, I started to realise, even my own narrative is not stable enough. In fact, I might be the most up and down source that there is! There was really only one place left.

At last, I came to realise that the safest place for my heart to rest was in the love of God. The only source of truest, unchanging, unflinching and unconditional love. His very name is love. It’s his invention! Of course, it’s the obvious, Sunday school, cliché answer. And yet, somewhere deep down I just knew it to be true. The moments that I have felt and known the love of God have been the most secure, peaceful and joyful moments of my life where I truly felt like I could let go of the thoughts and opinions of any other person in the world if I just had the assurance of this love.

In his book ‘The Life of the Beloved’, Henri Nouwen writes:

“At our core level we need to know that we are loved. We are the beloved. And then we go from being the beloved to becoming the Beloved. We already are, but we also have to become. This is spiritual life.”

And truly, that is the task. From knowing it as an idea to truly knowing it in your deepest core.

I can say “God loves me” all day. I’ve been saying it and singing it since day one, as a child growing up in Church. But how do we experience it in our very soul?

Speaking with a friend on this topic, I half-jokingly said “if only being loved by God wasn’t so ethereal. If only there was a sign! Something that floats down from heaven with a letter saying ‘to Jonathan, from God, love you’, then I could grasp it”. I compared it to a relationship - at least in a relationship there’s a physical person right in front of you, they just tell you they love you, they show it in very literal ways, but with God it seems so… floaty. Like this mysterious thing I just have to believe or read about. Where is the sign?

And then, of course, it hit. There is a very obvious sign that has marked and represented Christianity for the last 2000 years. There is no greater sign to humanity that we are loved by God than that of the cross. The very same cross that’s depicted on the necklace I wear every day, (funnily enough bought as a gift from the previous relationship that I was just making a comparison to!) I once heard a graphic designer say that the cross was the greatest and strongest example of branding in history, and so it should be, it is the most potent reminder to us and should never be forgotten or re-designed.

The cross stands as the everlasting symbol of sacrificial love and covenant between God and imperfect people like you and me. It is the greatest sign of love that exists. And one of the most well-documented. Wherever you stand on your perspective of Christianity, there is no denying the cross happened. This was not an ethereal concept but a real, flesh and blood moment, that is still commemorated around the world to this day - as we approach Good Friday. This shocking, world-changing moment opened wide the way to everyone. The veil of separation was torn in two in this moment granting the greatest inclusivity that has ever been displayed. God, taking it upon himself to pay every penalty for our sins, that we can be with him.

Verses started to come to mind as I realised this.

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.”

John 15:13

“God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Romans 5:8

If there is any doubt in your mind that you are loved by God - look to the cross. If there is any doubt that he sees you as worthy of love - look to the cross. Any doubt that he accepts you - look to the cross. It is a sign most real and most tangible.

And yet, as Henri Nouwen states, it is the work of our life to go from being the beloved to becoming the beloved. To have the knowledge of this love sink down into our very depths.

I find the cross to be both beautiful and incredibly challenging. I remember reading through the passage of the garden of Gethsemane - where Jesus brings a few of his disciples with him to ‘keep watch’ as he prays in deep distress over the weight of what he is about to endure for our sake. Sometimes, in my shame and in my performance mindset, I put myself in the shoes of the disciples. I put myself down thinking that Jesus would go through all of this pain and turmoil for me, and yet I can barely stay awake for him. I start to build up all of these ideas that could separate me and distance myself out of pure unworthiness - the self-rejection again.

When faced with the cross I often think to myself, if Jesus would do that for me, why can’t I respond in equal passion and devotion? But as a friend once told me: “the greatest response we can have to what Jesus did on the cross, is to receive what he paid for.” He took our place. He died for our sins so that we didn’t have to. If we respond in our own efforts and striving are we not negating the very thing that he did for us? It takes great humility and lowliness of heart to realise we will never be able to match the cross. All we can do is receive in gratitude and walk in the full confidence that we are loved by God. Completely. Entirely. And he’s never changing his mind.

One thought to leave you with this Easter time. In the work of allowing this truth to sink in, I found myself doing a simple exercise in my car the other day. I started to list all of the things that I maybe don’t like so much about myself to God in prayer, including things that I’ve done or mistakes I’ve made - only this time, I finished each one with the sentence “but you love me, and nothing can change your mind.”

God, I’ve really messed up - but you love me, and nothing can change your mind.
I don’t like this part of me - but you love me, and nothing can change your mind.
I made this mistake - but you love me, and nothing can change your mind.
I struggle with this - but you love me, and nothing can change your mind.

Bit by bit, little by little, that feeling of self-acceptance started to pour into my heart, like a stream of clear spring water straight from the source. It was not an overnight transformation, it will most likely be a life-long work. But we are the beloved, and we are becoming the beloved.

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Thanks for reading my post! If you want something to listen to, maybe take 5 minutes for one of my favourite songs for this easter time, Great Redeemer by my friend Lucy Grimble.

And here’s a song of my own on this topic: