a letter to all those who knew me before the world race,
I sit here writing this in hopes to extend my hand to you for a long overdue apology. Whether you’ve known me from birth (hi mom lol) or we have merely met in passing, this is for you.
It’s taken me days to get this written down on paper — and will take a lifetime to get it written into the expression of my being. It’s a process that I’m still learning, and one that i will be until the day i no longer call this earth home.
This life is a hard one to figure out, and through the lens of grace, i am able to sit here today and tell you that I had it all wrong for the first 17 years of mine.
You see, for the first 17 years of my life, my heart & soul were stuck sitting alone in a room labeled “the individualistic mindset”. Everything I worked for, everything I stood for, and every expression of myself was to build the trajectory of my reputation, my success, and my life.— through the midst of that, I forgot to sit down with you and ask how your day was.
I forgot to look you in the eye.
I forgot to follow up with you after that interview.
I forgot to tell you how beautiful you looked.
I forgot to ask if you wanted company when going to the store.
I forgot to ask if you made it home safely.
I forgot to stop my feet to say hello while passing you in the hallway.
I forgot to hold your heart the way it deserved to be held.
I forgot to do those things, because if I’m being vulnerably honest with you, those things didn’t involve my glory or gratification.
I thought the world race was going to be an extension to this individualistic narrative that I had written for myself. — One that was compiled from self seeking and conceded ideologies. But instead, the race smacked that one out of my hands and Jesus gently gave me His instead.
As I flipped through the pages of His narrative, I saw you instead of me.
And I want to apologize for not seeing you before.
You see,
I went to Ecuador and was told to help build a roof with this man named Enrique. The Lord tapped me on the shoulder and said “it’s not about the roof. it’s about Enrique.”
A few weeks later, i was sent to volunteer at a rehabilitation house for underage girls that have been rescued from sex trafficking. I found myself standing in front of sweet 8 year old Angela, who had just recently been rescued from abuse, as the Father whispered “it’s about her. she’s the point”
Time passed and I found myself teaching English in a small town of Guatemala to kids that have no other education opportunity. As I watched all 35 kids cram into a small classroom to be taught by us, Jesus tore the curriculum from my hands and reminded me “it’s not about the English. It’s! about! them!”
Just days later, my team and I were fixing up the house of an 83 year old widow named Paula. God grabbed my chin and turned my gaze away from the paint and concrete and shifted it straight to Paula. She was the reason we were there, not the project at hand.
Little by little, Jesus started using these moments to create a mosaic of His narrative — “People are the whole point”.
He Himself came down to this earth just to show us that.
To show us that to Him, it’s all about His children. So for me, it should be all about His children too.
So to you reading this, yes, you: from the depths of my being, I am sorry. You are the whole point, and ive been missing that all along.
I hope that you can forgive the years that I spent passing you by, as if you weren’t worthy of my love. The more I align my heart with His, the more my purpose becomes to just love you.
believer or non-believer, filthy or righteous, gay or straight, man or woman, old or young, drunk or sober, virgin or prostitute, oppressed or the oppresser — it’s doesn’t matter. You are the point. Read His word, It’s about you.
I promise that from here on out, i will drop my narrative and pick up His.
If you need to be loved, it’s my purpose to do it — call me @720-212-7269
all for His glory,
EZ
