God Doesn’t Hold Back

A Story of Faith Written by Kati Ellis

A dog bit off my nose.

No really. A dog bit off my nose. 

I was two years old, at a family reunion, and gave a chained up dog a sweet little pat (read: smack) on the head. He responded with a bite off the nose.

I can’t really speak from first hand experience about what happened next—I just have brief, flash images in my mind. Like the color of the cloth my dad held over my face, and the warmth of the wood at the doctor’s home we stopped at on our way to the hospital. But after years of hearing my family recount the story, I can tell you an almost perfect play-by-play of how it all went down.

My aunt found my nose after stepping on it during her search (or so my cousins tell me), allowing my parents to bring it to the hospital where the doctor stitched me back together. All the adults in my life took turns watching me sleep after my surgery to make sure I didn’t touch my newly repaired nose and ruin all chances of recovery. Oh, and my mom said her very first swear word that day.

I carry that story with me, adding to it bit by bit as I get older. But my favorite part of the story (other than my saintly mother’s language indiscretion) came along just in the last couple of years.

While doing my best as a mother, achieving my goals as a photographer, and trying to use my gifts and talents to build God’s kingdom—no thought about my dog bitten nose at all—I began to feel inadequate.

I had been praying about how I could use photography to make a difference and God put into my mind a project that felt like everything I had ever dreamed. Though some of it was new and scary, I was feeling complete joy as I did what I love, for the God I love.

But I am kind of a high stress individual and tend to put a lot of pressure on myself and the adversary knows that. And it’s been my experience, that the more you try to do good, the harder the devil works to stop you.

Things were getting a little challenging when it came to balancing all I wanted to accomplish with my projects and instead of leaning in to God when I needed Him, I started to panic. That little slip of faith opened me up to a terrible downward spiral.

So many truths were slowly being perverted in my mind. I knew that the greatest work we can do on this earth is God’s work, but I started to feel like because it was the greatest work, I needed to do the greatest job at it.

I have always believed that when God calls you to do something, you do it, but I started to feel like a failure because sometimes life and just being human slowed me down.

I needed miracles in order to bear the load of my life as a wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, and still do my project, but I didn’t feel like I could ask for them because at some point I had slacked off. My mind told me that because I had made the choice to read a book, watch a show with my husband, got distracted on the phone, etc, I had used up precious time that could have been dedicated to the Lord. I had no right to ask for more time from Him. The adversary took those human parts of me and layered so much guilt over them that I was too afraid to ask God to help me accomplish the things I felt called to do.

My brain said I needed help because I wasn’t perfect, but it also told me I couldn't ask for help because I wasn’t perfect.

The adversary is really good with shame.

And I was breaking.

I remember sitting at the computer, tired and getting nowhere, when I ended up on a phone call with my mom. She told me she had written a journal entry about the time a dog bit off my nose and that she would send me the pages.

I spent the next hour or so reading about the terror she felt when she saw the hole in my face. The guilt my dad felt over not having seen the situation and stopping it in time. The miracle after miracle that brought family and doctors into the right situation so that everything worked out okay. But mostly, I read about the love—all the love that my family had for me, and that God had for me. He was there for me. He was aware of the pain, the timing, the fear, and He provided miracles.

And I hadn’t accomplished anything to get it.

I was two. I had zero awards, and very little skills to recommend me. I certainly wasn’t using my talents to do good in any way, and still God loved me enough to grant me whatever I needed in those moments.

And the lightbulb went on. I can do every little thing I can think of to “make God proud” and “meet His expectations.” I can spend every waking minute of my life dedicating all I have to Him. I can read my scriptures and say my prayers and serve all day.  I can try to do His work perfectly, and He will never, never love me more.

But that’s only because He never loved me less.

He didn’t hold back His love when I was two because I had wasted time. He didn’t hold back because I had made a mistake or was too tired that day to keep going. He didn’t hold back when I needed him because God never holds back His love.

And I shouldn’t either. Not for Him, not for others, and not for myself.

I should read His word and pray and serve not because I want Him to love me, but because I want to love Him.

The time my nose was bit off by a dog has become a gift that has opened my eyes to all the gifts of love God has graciously poured over me throughout my life that are too great, too miraculous, too monumental, to ever feel earned.

Jesus has given me everything. Every dark moment in my life has been brought back to light through His deep and perfect understanding of my heart and needs. Sometimes answers or healing demands waiting, and that’s hard, but I trust Him and His timing.

So when I start to doubt again, when I start to layer pressure and shame and the need to prove myself to God so I can feel worthy of His love, I remember the scar on my face and the miracles that surround it then and now. I remember that God doesn’t hold back for flawed people.

I will find joy in participating in His work, in the world He loves, in the relationships He has gifted me, and I will trust Him to have love for me when I fail.

Jesus didn’t choose perfection for discipleship. He chose Saul. And He made him Paul.

I am not the accomplished, award winning, famous, expert, master, best-of-anything sort of woman that I sometimes wish I could be. I am definitely not as righteous as I wish I could be.

But I am enough, and that’s the greatest gift a girl could ask for.