A Letter to the Beloved...

From me... to you...

Dear Beloved,

(I’ve officially decided this will be my name for you, the reader, because that’s exactly what you are— the beloved of God. May you walk in the full revelation of this truth. In Jesus’ Name I pray, amen!).

My last letter dealt with the battlefield of the mind, and defeating negative thoughts with the power of the Word. Shortly after, I faced what was almost a month of tough mental battles, especially when it came to the area of writing and creativity.

The doubts grew loud… the fear swelled… and I once again wanted to run… to hide… to disappear… it felt like I was right back where I’d started.

I wondered once again, if this was even the time for me to be writing publicly. Was I to go on hiatus, and let the Lord build me in secret? Was I trying to enter a season of visibility prematurely? Was I truly writing to and for the Lord, or for the audience?

There had been a day when I’d been composing a “Letter to the Lord” and realized that I wasn’t addressing the Lord at all, I was thinking of, and talking to, you guys, the readers. At the time, I felt really guilty about it and, I told myself, “It’s become more about “them”, than “Him”. You’re not ready, you don’t have the character to do this yet.”

But the truth is…

I’d been very strict with myself. Once again, due to the fear of becoming prideful and succumbing to worldly desires, I’d told myself that I could write and post nothing except for “Letters to the Lord”. Any attempt at addressing the readers felt like a betrayal of that rule. But if you take a look at each of my former letters, you’ll notice that the desire still crept into my writing. At the end of the writeups, I’d add short notes to the readers— I couldn’t help myself, I wanted to connect with you.

To love God is to love others, you cannot have one without the other.
- (based on 1 John 4:20)

I knew deep in my heart that despite the arbitrary rules I’d set for myself in a vain attempt at self-preservation, there was more I wanted to write and share on this platform.

I wanted to write poems and stories. I wanted to share anecdotes and ask questions.

In many ways, I wanted Substack to be a safe space for me. A place for me to share of myself— unhindered by the rules of aesthetics and the algorithm.

I think of the Bible verse that says,

“[God] made known his ways to Moses, his acts to the people of Israel.” - Psalm 103:7 (ESV)

Some of you may not know this, but I’ve worked as a signed model for the past 4 years and it’s hard to break away from the notion that Instagram is a place to showcase my “acts”. To post high-quality images and show people a curated portfolio of what I’ve done. Honestly, sometimes I look at Instagram and feel like I’m not even looking at myself—but that’s a writeup for another day.

Here on Substack, however, it’s not about my looks. It’s about me pouring out my heart on the page. It’s about me sharing my emotions, experiences, struggles, and testimonies. It’s about me being me.

Elsie.

The woman.

The child of God.

Not the model.

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My prayer: It continues to be my prayer that the Lord gives me a healthy perspective and revelation about what pride and humility truly are, because I know that the definitions I have in my heart aren’t accurate and they’re only holding me back.

I pray that He helps me come to a place where I’m willing to give myself permission to make mistakes, explore, be creative, and be carefree. I pray He brings me to a place where I finally view myself the way He views me. I pray to trade away my lens of self-criticism for His lens of perfect love. I pray to do so soon.

If you’ve come to the end of the writeup, and feel led to do so, I’d appreciate you taking a moment to pray for me. Please pray that I won’t become weary in well-doing. Please pray that God will increase my capacity to receive and give His love. Please pray as you feel led to do so by the Holy Spirit.

Be blessed, and have a wonderful week ahead!

Thank you for taking the time to read this letter :)

Written with love,

Elsie Abang