Sharon Jaynes - Im Not Good Enough...and Other Lies Women Tell Themselves

Sharon Jaynes

Unless otherwise indicated all Scripture references are from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION. NIV. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by the International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

Verses marked NASB are from the New American Standard Bible, 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. (www.Lockman.org)

Verses marked NLT are from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, IL 60189 USA. All rights reserved.

Verses marked NKJV are from the New King James Version. Copyright 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Verses marked MSG are from The Message. Copyright by Eugene H. Peterson 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group.

Verses marked TLB are from The Living Bible, Copyright 1971. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, IL 60189 USA. All rights reserved.

Verses marked TNIV are from the Holy Bible, Todays New International Version (TNIV) Copyright 2001 by International Bible Society. All rights reserved worldwide.

Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota

IM NOT GOOD ENOUGHAND OTHER LIES WOMEN TELL THEMSELVES

Copyright 2009 by Sharon Jaynes

Published by Harvest House Publishers

Eugene, Oregon 97402

www.harvesthousepublishers.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Jaynes, Sharon.

Im not good enough-- and other lies women tell themselves / Sharon Jaynes.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references.

ISBN 978-0-7369-1870-1 (pbk.)

1. WomenReligious aspectsChristianity. 2. Self-perceptionReligious aspectsChristianity. 3. Self-esteemReligious aspectsChristianity. 4. Christian womenReligious life. I. Title.

BT704.J35 2009

248.8'43dc22

2008028528

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any otherexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Printed in the united states of america

09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 / VP-SK / 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To two of my favorite people in the world,
Mary Southerland and Gwen Smith.
Serving in ministry with you has
been one of my greatest joys.

There are so many amazing people who have worked together to make this project possible. A special thanks to the Harvest House family: Bob Hawkins Jr., who continues his fathers dream of reaching the world for Christ with the printed word; LaRae Weikert, who has the uncanny ability to make everyone feel like they are her best friend; Terry Glaspey, who is an amazing listener, encourager, and friend; Barb Sherrill, Katie Lane, Rob Teigen, John Constance, Christianne Debysingh, Jeana Newman, Dave Bartlett, and Dave Sheets, who creatively get the message of hope and healing to a hurting world; and Shane White, who makes the Energizer Bunny look as if hes moving in slow motion. I am also grateful for my editor, Rod Morris, for his attention to detail and theological expertise.

I am especially thankful for two friends who encouraged me on when I felt that I wasnt good enough, my Girlfriends in God: Gwen Smith and Mary Southerland. Im also forever thankful for my prayer teamVan Walton, Christie Legg, Barbara Givens, Kathy Mendietta, Gayle Montgomery, Linda Butler, Bonnie Schulte, Cynthia Price, Naomi Gingerich, and Linda Eppleyand for the many friends who shared their stories in order to expose the lies we believe and the truth that sets us free.

This book would not be a reality without my in-house editor, my precious husband, Steve. Thank you for believing in me and giving me the love and encouragement I needed to press on.

Most of all, I am thankful for my Heavenly Father who loves me, the Holy Spirit who empowers me, and my Savior, Jesus Christ, who set me free.

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.

3 JOHN 4

Carrie stood before the bathroom mirror putting the finishing touches on her makeup before rushing off to the county fair with her girlfriends. Just a bit of lip gloss and one more swipe of the hairbrush and she was ready to go.

Carrie heard the horn blow as the girls pulled in the driveway, and she grabbed her sweater and yelled to her mom still in the kitchen.

Bye mom, Ill be home by eleven.

Be careful, her mom called out.

Carrie, Katie, Clair, and Meghan scurried from booth to booth as the carnival barkers drew them in. They watched boys humiliate themselves with attempts to fire rifles at metal foxes running across a black backdrop, shoot basketballs into hoops that seemed strangely small, and bang a giant hammer to prove who was the strongest among the bunch. The girls tried their hands at throwing darts to pop balloons, casting rings over old milk jugs, and tossing balls in slanted straw baskets. After eating a pink sticky cloud of cotton candy, the girls wandered over to various side shows.

Come one, come all, the barker called. Step right up and see yourself as youve never been seen before. The House of Mirrors, sure to entertain and amuse. Step right up.

Come on in, little lady, the dark man with greasy black hair and toothy grin motioned to Carrie. She shivered and wanted to turn and run away.

Lets go in here, Katie said. Thisll be fun.

Carrie was whisked away with the crowd and lured into the first mirrored room. Elongated reflections stared back, and the girls giggled at the taller, thinner versions of themselves. In the next room, they doubled over in laughter at their stubby arms and legs, expanded torsos, and chubby cheeks. They struck various poses and got a taste of what midget versions of themselves might look like.

The girls then ran to a third room, but Carrie stayed behind. She was silent as she stood mesmerized at what she saw staring back at her. Words began to appear across her chest, fading in and out in various scripted forms. Worthless. Unloved. Ugly. Stupid. Unacceptable. Unforgivable. Dirty. Unhappy. Failure. Not good enough.

Was this a trick? Did the others see what she saw? How did they know? Tears began trickling down her cheeks as hidden memories flashed before her.

Carrie, come on! Meghan called from down the hall. Lets go to the bumper cars.

Carried took a deep breath, put on her perma-smile, and wiped her eyes. No one noticed the mascara trail down her cheeks or the puffy swollen eyes. Like alwaysno one knew.

I was in the sixth grade when I first ventured into the House of Mirrors at my hometown county fair. Like Carrie, my group of giggling friends ran from booth to booth suckered into paying good money to play rigged games. For hours we gave our money to shady carnival characters in hopes of winning a stuffed purple polka-dot snake, oversized tie-dyed teddy bear, or a pair of fuzzy dice to hang from a cars rearview mirror. Personally, I stuck with pickup ducks. A sure win.