I'm trying to do one post per day. If I had my ways, I would probably post 30 entries a day. Writing is a bit of an addiction to me. Sometimes, too much is not good.
But at the moment, I have to write again. I posted probably an hour ago, and as if I just swallowed a whole pot of coffe, I gotta go again.

I need you to know something. Every day, I am both Christian and temporary-Athiest.
Woah now, you say. Woah Jamie.
Listen, I know that sounds crazy. In an attention-grabbing way, I'm telling you that I doubt God's existence every day. And if you're Christian, you doo, too. Now, usually, those nonbeliever moments are only seconds long. I know God is real.

Somehow, I ended up with my friend's set of post-it notes in my car. (Lauren, these are yours from our Wal Mart list we made before the yard sale.) The other day, I was driving, and had major wordage just attack me. It was like....word diarrhea. Yeah, it's that serious. This is my world. Sometimes, if I have no pen or paper around, I'll record things onto my phone so I won't forget. Yeah.
So I took the post it and scribbled in between stop lights or in a parking lot or something. I don't really remember.
But I wrote this.

"Why God?" they don't ask.
............ is what I don't say.

All the .......s took up about 5 lines worth of space, because I didn't have time to write out my answer.
Here is my answer.

Why God?
Because there was a moment when I realized the seriousness of faith. I was 10-ish, sitting on my bed. My heart felt as if it were being yanked across my chest, and I knew what it was. Who it was. It was God, and he was pulling my heart--gripping it, squeezing it, tugging it, until I gave him...not things, not promises, not desires. But me. I gave him me. He was squeezing and tugging and pulling to find the deep, dark, hidden thing I call my soul. My spiritual Jamie. He found that. He was asking for it. Then as I hit my knees, I was asking for him.

Thoughts did not cross my mind. This is how I know God is real. Because just as my shoulder aches when I sleep, just as my nostrils flair if I sing, just as ribs expand with each breath, God sought something that had never before been sought, and I knew what it was. God had never touched me before, but I knew it was him. Our souls are hidden deep within the crosswires of our minds, our hormones, our organs. And only He can move our souls like that. Only He can grip my heart so tight that I knew I could find relief by only asking for Him. He already had me within his grip, but it wasn't painful. It was peaceful. It was breathing. He didn't ask anything. I had to ask Him to take it, to take over. I needed him to do this.
He did. I didn't tell it for 6 years--that I was saved. I didn't understand somethings, and I got confused about salvation, about how others were saved. Mine seemed odd.

To make a long story long, I eventually told it. I prayed about it--really prayed, not just pretend prayed--and finally accepted that God was mine, I was his, and we were in a relationship together. And to have a successful relationship with someone, you have to claim them. To talk to them. In relationship terms, if God were a boy, he so would've dumped me.

Here's my problem. Amidst my journey, my relationship with God, I have lost so much confidence in myself, which culminates from lacking trust in God.
It has been embedded in my mind that we as God's children are nothing. We are sinners. God saved us, but we are dirty sinners.
I can't stand it anymore. Yes, I sin.
But I am somebody. I am something. Because of God. Because of Grace. Because of Love. Because of a tugging heart and a hidden soul and the peace I have about my life after death. If I tell myself I am nothing, I will do nothing for myself AND for God. If I tell myself I am a dirty sinner, I will sin over and over and over, because that's my self-expectation.
So don't tell me I'm just a sinner.
Because I'm God's child. I'm God's. Not yours.
I need people to get out of my head. I've never said this before. I've never tried it. For some reason, I've been scared of saying it, scared of how the word will come off my tongue, scared of the reaction it would bring, scared of how cheesy it would sound.
Rebuke.
Yes. To all of these things, to all of these people who are literally or mentally in my head trying to convince me of my unworthiness, of my fall from grace,
I
rebuke
you
from my bound-up life
from my confused mind
from my questionable past
from my uplifted roots
from my unclear future
in the name of
Jesus
Christ.
I rebuke you.

Get away from me, stay away from me, until you have positive encouragement to offer me. I don't want this negativity anymore. Someone else can take it, because I want to be through.