A God for the Real You
"Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet,
Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet!
I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll.
Yes, yes, we know that we can jest,
We know, we know that we can smile!
But there's a something in this breast,
To which thy light words bring no rest,
And thy gay smiles no anodyne.
Give me thy hand, and hush awhile,
And turn those limpid eyes on mine,
And let me read there, love! thy inmost soul."
-Matthew Arnold, "The Buried Life" (1852)
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| Gantry Park, Queens, NYC (by the Pepsi-Cola sign) |
How much do you want to be known? I mean really, truly known? To be validated, in that deep somewhere sweet spot of the heart? To have someone look at you and say, "You're safe now"?
There's a place like that. There's a person like that. I used to think I had to earn his approval, like I do with other people. Lots of times, I still act as if that's the system. But Jesus isn't like that.
I like how the pastor, Timothy Keller (along with my pastor, Ricky Jones), puts it:
"So we can say that we are more wicked than we ever dared believe, but more loved and accepted in Christ than we ever dared hope - at the very same time."
Jesus knows the tragic and the beautiful of your inmost soul, and of mine.
I just watched this TED Talk today, which was very insightful. Brene Brown talks about how important vulnerability is in creating connection, and how we are terrified of it. She says that the current U.S. adult population is the most in debt, obese, drugged, and addicted of any in our history. She traces it to an attempt to numb ourselves from vulnerability, and from the fear and shame that comes with it.
But, she says, when we try to numb ourselves from painful emotions, we also numb ourselves from joy, connection, and the other precious, life-giving things that spring from being vulnerable.
As an actor-type person, I also loved the part of the talk where Brene discussed the definition of the word "courage". She said that it is different from our word "bravery". The original English word "courage" sprung from the Latin word "cour" (heart) and was defined like this: "to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart". In other words, courage means being real with other people.
I remember looking at profiles of influential people in a magazine once, and I was struck by the man whose subheading read "Imperfectionist". That stuck with me. I fight an on-and-off battle against this internal message: "You are not enough." And in my fear, I try to be perfect.
In fact, I am dealing with this right now--or maybe it is really God dealing with me, trying to loosen the reins. We have a big move coming up, and while I am excited, most of that feels like head excitement right now, not emotional excitement, as I deal with the reality of leaving what I know for what I don't. Apparently, psychologists say that a move and a job change are two of life's biggest stressors, and Chris and I are about to go through both of those, plus I will be starting a new degree at a new school.
Let me be courageous with you and say that I am afraid.
I can tell because I am more irritable lately, and want to take control of things more. And I've learned that control issues often come from fear. Interruptions bother me more than usual right now, my fuse is shorter, and I feel more tired than usual most of the time. I want to be there for others, but I feel less powerful, less energetic, less capable. In short, I feel vulnerable.
And I think the only way I am going to get through this while loving myself and others well, the only way to get through this in a beautiful sort of way, is to remember that I am actually commanded to not be anxious. And that I don't have to be, because this God who will do whatever he wants is also the God who covers every speck of my shame, the God who knows my most intimate faults and hopes, and the God who is my Daddy, and knows how to guide my steps in a way that is acutely personal and unique.
I just watched this TED Talk today, which was very insightful. Brene Brown talks about how important vulnerability is in creating connection, and how we are terrified of it. She says that the current U.S. adult population is the most in debt, obese, drugged, and addicted of any in our history. She traces it to an attempt to numb ourselves from vulnerability, and from the fear and shame that comes with it.
But, she says, when we try to numb ourselves from painful emotions, we also numb ourselves from joy, connection, and the other precious, life-giving things that spring from being vulnerable.
As an actor-type person, I also loved the part of the talk where Brene discussed the definition of the word "courage". She said that it is different from our word "bravery". The original English word "courage" sprung from the Latin word "cour" (heart) and was defined like this: "to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart". In other words, courage means being real with other people.
I remember looking at profiles of influential people in a magazine once, and I was struck by the man whose subheading read "Imperfectionist". That stuck with me. I fight an on-and-off battle against this internal message: "You are not enough." And in my fear, I try to be perfect.
In fact, I am dealing with this right now--or maybe it is really God dealing with me, trying to loosen the reins. We have a big move coming up, and while I am excited, most of that feels like head excitement right now, not emotional excitement, as I deal with the reality of leaving what I know for what I don't. Apparently, psychologists say that a move and a job change are two of life's biggest stressors, and Chris and I are about to go through both of those, plus I will be starting a new degree at a new school.
Let me be courageous with you and say that I am afraid.
I can tell because I am more irritable lately, and want to take control of things more. And I've learned that control issues often come from fear. Interruptions bother me more than usual right now, my fuse is shorter, and I feel more tired than usual most of the time. I want to be there for others, but I feel less powerful, less energetic, less capable. In short, I feel vulnerable.
And I think the only way I am going to get through this while loving myself and others well, the only way to get through this in a beautiful sort of way, is to remember that I am actually commanded to not be anxious. And that I don't have to be, because this God who will do whatever he wants is also the God who covers every speck of my shame, the God who knows my most intimate faults and hopes, and the God who is my Daddy, and knows how to guide my steps in a way that is acutely personal and unique.
Later on in his achingly beautiful poem that I quoted above, Matthew Arnold says this:
"Only--but this is rare--
When a beloved hand is laid in ours,
When, jaded with the rush and glare
Of the interminable hours,
Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear,
When our world-deafen'd ear
Is by the tones of a loved voice caress'd--
A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast,
And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again...
And there arrives a lull in the hot race
Wherein he doth for ever chase
That flying and elusive shadow, rest."
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