On Being Enough and a Bottle of Cologne
I never leave the house without cologne.
My older sister gave me three different types of cologne, which I used interchangeably. Smelling good was important to me. Wasn’t it part of decorum, of being professional, of looking good?
I forgot my cologne bottle the past two days, and it bothered me like heck.
Dar, my boss, always believed in learning and investing in one’s growth. Over the weekend she sent a number of us to Unbounded, a transformational leadership program.
Colleagues who had gone through it warned us of copious tears being shed. Having gone through a weeklong therapy retreat last year, I was intrigued — I wonder how this would fare? I decided to come in with zero expectations.
I’ve always taken pride in me being the rebellious sort. I liked breaking free from tradition and being unique for the sake of being unique. I figured, if you had a name as uncommon as mine, might as well run with it. Even when I became a Christian, I reasoned with God and tried to skirt around His Word, justifying my intentions and actions because I thought I was right.
While doing a rundown of the seminar, Bam, our head facilitator, instructed us to follow all instructions. Should be easy, right?
Not for someone like me.
My rebellious streak kicked in at one of the sessions, which he took as an opportunity for coaching. I felt a weird sense of bravado, thinking I could get away with what I did — wasn’t I technically following the rules when it happened? — but God, through Bam, uncovered a deep wound in my heart.
I was rebelling because I was trying to prove myself. I was trying to prove myself because I did not feel enough.
I never felt enough.
There I was, breaking down and revealing deep, dark secrets in front of 50+ people — a hell lot whom I’ve never met. Did I mention that I didn’t trust people and hated being vulnerable?
There I was, raw and bleeding, for the world to see.
I was scared, ashamed, and incredibly self-conscious. I also realized — no wonder the lack of cologne bothered me. I wanted to look, feel, and smell pretty.
Somehow, despite my rebellion, I wanted to look good in front of everyone — to appear cool, smart, funny, and invincible. At work, I wanted to be perceived as capable, dependable, and trustworthy. I wanted to be liked so that I could be accepted and loved.
The persona I had put up came tumbling down when I realized that I was enough.
God healed me and my gaping insecurity with the revelation that I was enough.
The Hebrew word “shalom” is tattooed on my right wrist. It was symbolic of Philippians 4:7 — “the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus.” The verse before that encourages us to not be “anxious about anything,” but “in everything, with prayer and petition, present your requests to God.”
When I first encountered Philippians 4:6–7 many years ago, the verses resonated with me so much. I decided it would be my “life verse” — truth in Scripture that I would hold on to.
The peace of God also equates to “shalom” — but the word itself has so many meanings. Shalom is also defined as “breaking the chaos.” In addition, it means completion, wholeness, and “nothing missing, nothing broken.”
I don’t have to worry or be anxious. I no longer had to prove myself or overcompensate for what I felt I lacked.
God’s peace makes me complete. God’s peace makes me enough.
I am enough. God is more than enough.
Three bottles of cologne stand on my dresser. Whether I forget one again, or not, it won’t matter as much.
I no longer need a crutch to make up for a flaw that isn’t even there, whether it’s cologne, eyeliner, humor, or “going the extra mile.” I no longer need to live with the need to be liked. I choose to be authentic and vulnerable, just as I am, because I am enough.
In Christ, I am enough. That’s all that matters.
Unbounded photos from Isis Umali, Edward Santiago, and Dar Ty-Nilo
