This is My ____ Song

While walking to work this past summer, my head was constantly bopping back and forth as mystery songs shuffled through my headphones. I’m an advocate for Pandora. As a fairly type-A gal, I think it is good for me—freeing almost. Pandora doesn’t allow me to have an exact say in the song that is played and limits the number of songs I skip, forcing me to actually listen to a whole song before I skip it after ten seconds. (What if we actually got to know someone—really know them—before creating a judgment in the first ten seconds?)

Sorry for the side thought.

As I power-walked through the city’s streets one morning, Fight Song came on. Fight Song is the ultimate pump-up, girl-power, rah-rah song.

This is my fight song, Take back my life song, Prove I'm alright song . . .

I heard it once, and I liked it. I really liked it. I listened-to-it-every-morning really liked it. It was great. It became a mantra of sorts. I didn’t know the artist, so I researched her and decided we were kindred souls, maybe she was my spirit animal?

I loved the sass, the brashness, the “this is my life and I do what I want” catchiness. It is catchy. It is empowering. It was motivating to start my mornings, and it quickly became my worship.

Not two-hands up, eyelids closed worship—but worship that fed me, energized me, and motivated me. I began desiring to be this girl that was fighting, this girl that was surpassing boundaries, conquering mountains, and looking at all of the people that doubted her with a soft smile on her face.

By day five of forced smiles that pained me and overly-confident walking that led me lost, I felt drained. Like dried fruit when you wanted a fresh, plump peach—a fraud, disappointing even.

Instead of looking to the fight that was already won, to the ultimate fighter who died and continues to die daily for us, I was looking to myself to fight. I was looking to get in the ring with my gloves on to see how I would fair. Instead of giving my life, sacrificing it all for the One who gave it all for me, I was trying to take it in my own hands. I needed to fight back. I needed to be enough as I desired to make my own decisions. As I fought my mentality, I learned the last line was the greatest trap and barrier for me: prove I’m alright song.

This is a dangerous game and a game I fall victim to constantly. I’m great! Thanks for asking. As humans, we feel this need to have it all together.  I’m fine, everything is fine! Proving you’re alright hasn’t just become a one-time occasion, it can quickly become a lifestyle, a trap, an enslavement to the world’s and others’ perceptions of us as individuals.

Because of the cross, we don’t have to prove anything. We don’t have to fake smiles and act like we’re okay and keep pushing for a fight that’s already been won. We are enough, alright, sufficient. There are days where I desire a fight song because I feel like I cannot do it on my own, maybe I should look to the fighter. There are days where I need a redemption song because I feel like I’m too far lost for this world, maybe I should look to the Redeemer. So whether you need a fight song, a wake-up song, a crying-out song—Jesus provides that for us. Without proving we’re alright because we aren’t. This is my fight song, give up my life song.