Recently my aunt and I rewatched the four Hunger Games movies. Joining Katniss from District 12 to the Games and back again was so enlightening. Although I read the books and watched all the films years ago, God used this opportunity to speak to my heart.

For example, after Peeta returns from being tortured at the Capitol (and after he received major healing and intervention), Katniss became his voice of truth.

At a pivotal point in the movie, Peeta is expressing to Katniss this internal struggle of sorting out reality from lies. Katniss’s response cut straight to my heart – she began to tell him who he was, to speak identity into him. Here is the exchange:

Peeta: “Your favorite color is green. Is that real?”

Katniss: “Yeah, that’s real. Yours is orange. Not bright orange… soft, like the sunset.”

Peeta: “Thank you.”

[Pause.]

Katniss: “You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You always sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.”

Although what Katniss says is simple enough, it communicates a great message: she sees him, she knows him, she loves him, and she is committed to speaking the truth to Peeta, even though he has wounded her (literally) while operating from the lies he was believing.

Another moment in a completely different movie communicates this similar message of the importance of declaring the truth. In Moana, the scene I’m referring to happens after her first attempt to restore Te Fiti’s heart fails. Moana is having an identity crisis when her (deceased) grandma makes an appearance and asks her (in song) if she knows who she is.

Moana’s response to Gramma Tala moved me just as Katniss’s response to Peeta did. She boldly declares:

Who am I?

I am a girl who loves my island; I’m the girl who loves the sea: it calls me.

I am the daughter of the village chief.

We are descended from voyagers who found their way across the world: they call me.

I’ve delivered us to where we are; I have journeyed farther.

I am everything I’ve learned and more, still it calls me.

And the call isn’t out there at all: it’s inside me.

It’s like the tide, always falling and rising.

I will carry you here in my heart; you remind me that come what may, I know the way:

I am Moana!

Seeing it typed out doesn’t compare to hearing her declare these things over herself, and reading the exchange between Peeta and Katniss doesn’t show the emotion and love behind their voices. Nevertheless, there is power in these moments of truth, and my Abba uses silly and simple things like this to minister to me. (The links to these two scenes are here and here.)

My Abba is my voice of truth that speaks identity into me, and what a faithful, patient, and loving voice He is.

I would like to be able to share a new truth He has spoken to me, but instead I must confess that He has simply continued repeating Himself oh, so graciously. I’m so thankful for the Word of God.

I moved to Tennessee at the end of May, and at the first church service I attended we sang a song called “Get Your Hopes Up.” The first time we sang it, I smiled and sang along. The next church service we sang it, I smiled and sang along. Same for the next time we sang it. And the next. I was starting to wonder who was picking out the worship set list and whether or not they were considering it prayerfully (just being honest!), until they played it this morning. As soon as it started, my spirit told me that this time when I sang it, it was going to be different.

God confronted me with a question that I had been ignoring: “Do you trust Me enough to get your hopes up about your future?”

I started crying almost instantly.

You see, my spirit knew the truth – I was struggling to trust God, and I did not feel like I could hope for my future. Our pastor (super anointed man of God) preached, of course, on believing in God’s character and trusting that He is good. (He would use a quote from a book I am reading right now. Okay, Holy Spirit.)

So of course all during church I cried. Abba spoke through my pastor and reminded me of the gentle truths He has been speaking for such a long time now:

• I am your good Father
• I love you, My daughter
• I have good gifts for you
• I know you
• I haven’t forgotten, overlooked, abandoned, or rejected you
• I am trustworthy

I sat in silence and let these truths wash over me.

After church I sat on the back porch and grabbed the study I have been going through (found here), and of course the next few pages hit my heart directly. They spoke of striving instead of resting, comparing your journey to others’, living under the reign of ungodly beliefs, and operating for God’s love rather than from God’s love (which was what my last blog post was about).

Of course Papa would just keep on speaking.

The author of the study told of how Papa showed her that in scripture Jesus was baptized before He started doing ministry. This means that the Father audibly announced to all that this was His beloved Son, in Whom He is well-pleased before Jesus had done any type of miracle, healing, or teaching. That revelation was astounding.

God’s love is unconditional and given in full – before we even accept it! We cannot earn it. We cannot be separated from it. His love is strong. Papa keeps taking me back to Romans 5:8, over and over again. Our understanding of His love is so shallow, and there are unfathomable (without fathom) depths to be explored and gained.

But He has been speaking this to me so much. When and where had I stopped listening to these truths? When did I stop locking eyes with my Abba?

I continued listening and talking with Papa, repenting for believing lies that I am not worthy of being pursued or being loved. I felt Him pressing His love on me, and I stopped talking. My heart pleaded with a new approach. “I don’t understand Your love.”

His gentle voice whispered, “When you have a daughter, will you wait for her to earn your love?”

“Of course not! I will already love her because she will be my daughter.”

“And I love you because you are My daughter. You are Mine.”

“Oh.”

There isn’t really much else to say because He tells me this all the time. His truth is so strong, so incomparable. I can’t add or take away from its value.

I paused to contemplate this simple, earth-shattering truth, then I turned my heart back to Abba. “Do You think I am a beauty to be treasured?”

“Of course, My darling.”

And there it was. There was the checkpoint where I had made my mistake and taken my eyes off my King: I had taken my Question to someone other than God.

John and Stasi Eldredge explain what our Question is in their books Captivating (for women) and Wild at Heart (for men). Every man, in all his words, actions, and thoughts, is passionately asking, “Do I have what it takes?” Every woman, in all her words, actions, and thoughts, is passionately asking, “Am I a beauty to be treasured?”

As outlined in these books, our brokenness comes when we take these questions to any other than our Maker. However, when we take them to Him, the One the Question was made for, our souls find peace, our hearts find rest, and we find our identity as sons and daughters.

Somewhere along the way I had taken my eyes off of my Papa, and started bringing my Question to others. We can take our Question to the cute guy at the grocery store, to our parents, to our best friend, to the dreamy guy at church with a heart for worship, to a complete stranger, or even to ourselves. All of those others can answer our Question. Sometimes their answer is right, but most of the time their answer is wrong. We cannot let their wrong answer absorb into our spirit and determine our identity. It’s spiritually detrimental.

Thursday I will turn a quarter of a century years old. The most important thing that I want this new year to be marked by is the pattern of consistently turning my eyes to my Papa and bringing my Question to Him. All my questions.

Peeta: “You love me. Real or not real?”

Katniss: “Real.”