If you haven’t noticed from my recent posts, the Lord has been working on my broken heart in ways I never could have imagined. It’s been a difficult and painful journey, but one that has opened my eyes to the difference between the person I was and the Christian that God so longs for me to be.

I’ll admit—I’m a little stubborn. Okay, a whole lotta stubborn. But the Lord knows that about me. He knows my heart, my mind, my personality, my struggles, and every single piece of who I am. Down to the smallest detail.

“But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.” – Luke 12:7

That verse humbles me every time. It both scares and comforts me that God knows even the parts of me I try to hide—the secrets I wouldn’t dare to whisper out loud. Yet even with all my baggage, He still calls me His child. He waits patiently for me to return to Him—tired and weary—so that He can pull me back into His fold. Just like the prodigal son, He welcomes me home with open arms, ready to restore me.

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.” – Luke 15:20

That’s the God we serve. A God who runs toward us in our weakness, not away.

The Highlight Reel vs. Reality

I grew up in an interesting era. I’m not quite old enough to have had a MySpace page (thankfully), but I do remember when social media exploded. It shaped a generation, mine included. We learned quickly—sometimes the hard way—that what you post on the internet can follow you forever. Employers check it, friends and family see it, and yes, even future spouses can scroll through the archives before mom and dad pull out the baby photos.

We’ve all heard it before: there’s the version of life you post online, and then there’s your real life. Online, it’s pretty pictures, vacations, perfect smiles, flawless hair, and “candid” shots that actually took six tries. In reality, it’s sweatpants, messy buns, doubt, anxiety, and tears in the bathroom sink.

Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we put these unrealistic expectations on our lives and curate perfection while burying our burdens? The Bible calls us to the exact opposite:

“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” – Galatians 6:2

When we hide behind filters and highlight reels, we rob others of the chance to help carry our burdens, and we rob ourselves of the freedom to be seen and loved as we truly are.

Marketing Myself

The other day, I took yet another personality assessment. I’ve taken dozens in my life, including this specific one multiple times. But this time, reading the results through the lens of where God has me right now, something clicked.

I realized I have been marketing my whole life—not just in my career, but in my relationships. And not to the right audience.

I work in marketing. I love marketing. It’s what I’m good at. I study consumer behavior, brand loyalty, and emotional triggers. Why does someone choose one product over another? What makes them stay loyal? How does an ad or a package stir emotion?

But if I’m honest, I’ve spent much of my life marketing myself to people instead of living authentically before my Creator. I wanted people to like me, to be proud of me, to never be disappointed in me. I hated conflict and avoided it at all costs. In short—I was telling people the story I thought they wanted to hear, carefully curating my life like a brand campaign.

Brokeness Becomes Radiance

Lately, I’ve also been reminded of how God sees us—not for how “marketable” we appear, but for the purpose He has placed inside us.

There’s a song that’s been on repeat in my mind lately—Nobody by Casting Crowns. The line that says, “Why You ever chose me will always be a mystery” hits me right where I live. Because truthfully, I’ve asked God that same question over and over. Why me, Lord? Why would You choose someone stubborn, messy, and full of flaws?

Then the song continues, “You picked 12 outsiders nobody would have chosen, and You changed the world. The moral of the story is, everybody’s got a purpose.” That lyric came immediately to my mind when I was reading 1 Corinthians 1:27,

“But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.”

Jesus didn’t build His kingdom with the marketable, the polished, or the powerful. He chose fishermen, tax collectors, and zealots—the kind of men society overlooked. And He used them to flip the world upside down.

We are all like clay jars—fragile, imperfect, and prone to cracks. At first glance, those cracks might look like flaws or failures, but in God’s hands, they become the very places His light can shine through. A perfectly polished pot keeps the light hidden inside, but a broken one becomes a lantern, scattering beams into the darkness around it.

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” – 2 Corinthians 4:7

Our brokenness doesn’t disqualify us—it becomes the stage where God’s glory shines brightest. The very fractures we try so hard to hide are often the openings through which His grace radiates.

If God could use them, He can use me. And He can use you, too. That’s the beauty of grace. He doesn’t need us to be perfect—He just asks us to be willing.

I don’t have to sell myself to anyone or prove my worth through curated perfection. My purpose isn’t something I can market—it’s something God has already placed in me. And when I stop striving to be chosen by the world, I can rest in the truth that I’ve already been chosen by Him.

Unmarketable, Yet Beloved

So here’s where I’m at: I’m choosing to stop striving for marketability, and start striving for Christlikeness. I want to live a life that is raw, unfiltered, and surrendered—not one that looks perfect but hides pain.

That means this blog is going to get a little more real. Less polished. Less perfection. More honesty. More truth. More Jesus.

It’s uncomfortable, I won’t lie. But growth often is.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” – 2 Corinthians 12:9

If His power is made perfect in my weakness, then maybe it’s time I stop hiding mine. Maybe if we all stopped marketing ourselves as flawless, we could start reflecting the One who truly is flawless.

Because at the end of the day, my life isn’t about how marketable I am to others—it’s about how faithful I am to the God who already knows me, loves me, and calls me His own.

What if we stopped curating our lives for approval, and instead lived boldly as unmarketable children of God—broken yet beloved, messy yet redeemed, weak yet made strong in Him?