Why Fig Leaves Falling: When God Removes What You Were Hiding Behind
The cornerstone post - my testimony and why this place exists.
The bench
I sat on a park bench with five little cards in my hands, asking them to tell me who I am.
thats the truth of it. Not a metaphor - an actual bench, actual cards, me genuinely waiting for a piece of printed cardstock to explain me to myself. I wanted answers, and I wanted them from anything that wasn't God.
if you've ever done that - outsourced the biggest question of your life to the smallest things - then you already know how this story goes. the cards didn't answer. they never do.
The Scripture
"Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves coverings." - Genesis 3:7
" And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed." - Genesis 2:25
read those two verses side by side and you'll see the whole arc of the human story, - and the whole reason this website exists.
Genesis 2:25 is the before: naked and not ashamed. no hiding, no performing, no coverings. just being fully seen and fully loved at the same time.
Genesis 3:7 is the after: the moment shame entered the world, and the first thing we ever build with our own hads was a cover-up. fig leaves. the original DIY project, and we've been iterating on it ever since.
The reflection
here is what i have been sitting with: i spent years digging underneath everything trying to figure out who i am - labels, roles, what people thought, what the algorithm rewarded. i was asking the created instead of the Creator. people, things, cards, social media, signs. () i had forgotten the simplest thing: God made me.
And nothing on social media was lasting. None of the coverings held. The labels peeled. The performance exhausted me. So I started stripping away the false things I'd been using to hide — not all at once, not cleanly, but honestly. And what I found underneath wasn't something I had to manufacture. It was something I had to remember.
God met me in all of the uncomfortable, all of the things. Not after I got it together — in the middle of the mess, on the bench, cards in hand.
That's what the fig leaves falling actually means. It's not God ripping coverings off of you to expose you. It's the slow, grace-filled realization that you don't need them anymore. The leaves fall because the shame is gone. What's underneath was never the problem — the hiding was.
The prayer
Lord, show me the fig leaves I'm still sewing — the labels, the scrolling, the performing. Remind me that I was made by You, seen by You, and loved before I ever performed a thing. Teach me to live uncovered. Amen.
The takeaway
You don't have to have it figured out to start walking. I didn't. I started with five cards and a bench, and God met me there.
So here's the invitation this whole place is built on: come walk with me. Not behind me, not beneath some expert on a stage — with me. We'll let the leaves fall together.
🤍
come walk with me
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