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I was the talkative girl growing up. A head full of ideas, dreams, passions, and influence. And a mouth ready to fire them out. When met with opposition, it was easy for me to retaliate. That girl could get firey, with the drop of a hat on any topic I felt fiercely about. 

I had the grit. The determination. The sturdy bearings.

I knew what I believed in. I knew what was my focus, and I was determined to convince everyone around me. 

I had a voice but hadn’t surrendered to the One who gave it to me. 

Over time and growing pains, that voice became a clanging cymbal drowned out by pain and frustration.  

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That voice became emotional and easily triggered.

The passions I held grew dim by the pain of not being heard and consistently misunderstood. From not fitting in, rejection, and labels of bossy, condescending and rude. Labels and lies clouded my heart, and I ultimately came to the conclusion that my voice was invaluable. 

That pain turned into resentment. 

My words became harsh, cruel, and revengeful toward anyone who triggered the pain. 

I no longer possessed a voice of reason, integrity, truth, or compassion at all. My words became sinful. 

And so, I fell quiet. 

My voice was silenced. 

And I not only accepted the misunderstood labels, I became them.

Jesus met me in my silence.

He met me in my pain and ugliness. He met me in my bitterness and pride. He met me in my brokenness and mess.

Jesus showed me He was the only one who gave me a voice, the only one who heard my voice even if it was now only just a whimper. 

He heard me. 

Jesus saved me from me. Jesus saved me from myself. 

He saved me from religion. From my pride. From pain. From labels.  From an ugly mouth. From fear and anxiety

Jesus saved a little misunderstood girl and gave new life into her soul. 

He ripped off the labels and replaced them with his name.

He filled me with new passions, new dreams, a new perspective. 

He gave me a new voice.  

He gave me a new song.

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One that didn’t need to fight for attention, or scream from the rooftops, or retaliate from pain.

But a voice of joy. Overwhelming joy that cannot be contained. Joy that echoes from the very marrow of my soul. Joy that shouts for the glory of my Savior. 
No longer a voice about me, me, me . . . but a voice for Him, Him, Him! 

No longer a voice of what I can do for Jesus, but a voice of what Jesus did for me. 

Testimonies of his grace. Stories of his redeeming love in my life.

He set me free! 
Yes, he set me free!
He set me! 
The only voice I need!

To that spunky, sweet, innocent, talkative girl . . . God gifted you that voice! 

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Diana Reeves

Diana is a daughter of God, wife and mother to three beautiful daughters. Her passions include photography, writing, singing, blogging and sitting by the ocean. Her passion in writing is to encourage others to find strength and dignity through their faith in Jesus Christ.

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