I am not afraid to admit my weaknesses. One thing I have learned over the last ten years, especially while serving The Lord, is that maintaining a teachable spirit affords me so much more than performing ever will. So, when I told the guide of my beginner ski course that he needed to pretend I knew absolutely nothing and that it had been over twenty years since my feet had donned ski boots, I was being as honest as I knew how to be. Then came that old saying, “It’s like riding a bike.”

I wanted to say, “Picking a bike back up at ten and picking a bike back up at forty, well, you do the math.” But for some reason my perpetual reminders of “You really need to start me at square one.” fell on ears that apparently thought I was greatly underestimating my skill set. I mean cute ski coat, cute ski pants, helmet, goggles, a skier do not make! So, up we went on the chair lift. Me and my new friend, Gen, short for Genevieve. She had the same look of panic as I did. What goes up will come down.

We made it off the chair lift without incident. Which honestly, that alone made me feel good, seeing as the last time I went snow skiing for my senior class trip in high school, I stopped the entire chair lift twice because I couldn’t get off the crazy thing!

But this time I skied off. Then he took us to the top of the hill. My heart stopped. Seriously. I exaggerate not. Your heart can’t beat that fast and eventually not give out. Every nerve ending in my body roared to life as I stared down the bunny slope that for all intents and purposes to my eyes looked the same as a black diamond. The first section brought me to my bum. And it wasn’t the falling that was as difficult or as painful as the getting up. The sprained ankle from our beach trip two summers ago decided it didn’t care too much for how I was trying to rise from my fall and let me know about it. Finally I rose and made it to the bottom albeit in not the most pretty of ways and up we went again. It was that time that the guide decided he would believe my original assessment of my skills. I skied down fine. But I skied past him. And when I stopped and he proceeded to tell me to join the group and I busted my bootie again trying to get back to him he sent me and two others with another guide. I had been sequestered to the remedial group. And it wasn’t because I wasn’t honest. I was. I was bad. I was scared. And I needed a really good teacher.

And I got one in Erik. He was young and patient and by the time he was through with me I was standing upright. I had learned how to navigate hills even bigger than the bunny slope. And I was actually having FUN! The first time that word came out of my mouth instead of me professing how terrorized I was. It turned into an entirely different experience.

The same is true in our lives. Remember last week when I talked about the feeling of being rejected. And how in rejection it is our responsibility to stay connected to our hearts and live authentically even if that means others won’t agree or like us even. It is all true. And it is also true that in those moments asking God what He might want to teach us about us is just as key. Living authentically at the cost of wounding others is arrogance. Living authentically at the cost of shutting down our hearts is obedience.

I lived shut down for so many years. I was the perpetual people pleaser. Petrified of having an opinion different than those around me. I wanted everyone to be happy, taken care of, and wanted them to feel valued. However, what I discovered is that I was living in fear. I was giving people the throne of my heart instead of my Heavenly Father.

What I discovered as I went on a journey to reclaim my heart is that living authentically and speaking up for myself isn’t done out of a need to be right, or a desire to get even. A reclaimed heart lives authentically from a place of desiring to be a good steward of the heart God has given you. Of not placing someone else on the throne of our hearts. But of asking God how we should respond. What should we offer. How should we love. What is He asking of us. And what does he want to reveal to us.

Living authentically doesn’t mean abusing people, or devaluing people, or even needing to point out other people’s faults privately or publicly just because we can or think we should. What it means is loving God well, and guarding the heart He gave us above all else. And loving even those who may hurt us. All while maintaining a heart that is teachable and willing to own the places where it may be wrong or where it may need to learn more.

I felt a sense of frustration with the guide when he separated me from the group. Especially when I had told him how inept I was from the very beginning. It felt shaming for a moment. But then I got a guide who heard me. Saw me. Taught me. And in allowing my heart to be taught I was able to enjoy the beauty of the surroundings I had been privileged to enjoy for a few days and to do it all with the sweet Mr. Jones. Even in our worst moments of rejection, don’t forget that there are still things our hearts can learn. And keeping them open and teachable are hearts God can and will use.