How to avoid getting hurt by others

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

- C.S. Lewis

By trying so hard to avoid pain and keep our hearts at a safe distance from others - whether by withdrawing or by putting on a facade - do we end up hurting ourselves more than anyone else ever could? And how does this affect or reflect one's relationship with God?

Where do you draw the line between healthy boundaries and an unhealthy fear of intimacy?

40 Days

Yesterday, I actually said the words, “Happy Ash Wednesday!” This is how I greeted my mom when I talked to her on the phone. And I meant it. I was excited for Lent to begin. For the first time in my life, I was truly looking forward to this season of repentance. If you have the urge to patronizingly pat me on the head right now, I understand. I can’t help it, though: I’m excited about it!

From my understanding of it, for the next 40 days (not including Sundays), the traditional disciplines of Lent are three-fold: prayer, giving money to the poor and fasting (i.e., "giving something up").

I’ve fasted during Lent a few other times, so this is not necessarily a new practice for me. My senior year in college I gave up using curse words. On day four I stubbed my toe really hard and accidentally dropped the "queen-mother of dirty words." Oops.

The difference for me between this year and previous years, however, is simple but huge: previously, I fasted out of obligation or for selfish reasons, such as using Lent as an excuse to give up “fattening foods” so it became a diet for me to lose weight rather than a spiritual discipline. That year the scale was my judge, rather than God. My heart didn’t change, just my dress size. And I didn’t add prayer and almsgiving along with the fast. If anything, I became more selfish in the process, which is certainly not the purpose of Lent. I know a lot of people who give up some kind of food for Lent and it truly is a beneficial spiritual fast for them by doing so, but it wasn't for me that year because of my motivations behind the fast.

As Lent approached this year, I started thinking about what I could give up for 40 days that would truly make a difference in my spiritual growth. I prayed about this and searched my heart. It didn’t take long for me to realize what I needed to change the most this year: my habit of buying things I don’t need instead of turning to God when I feel restless, apathetic, anxious, or any other number of uncomfortable emotions. Or I buy something because it's there and it's “only a few dollars” and I don't really see the harm in it as I contemplate the purchase. But those “little” purchases add up quickly and I end up with a collection of little trinkets that I never really needed and I wonder why I thought it was so necessary to buy those things in the first place.

Yes, it is painfully clear to me that my impulsive and needless spending is hampering my spiritual growth. So, I’m fasting from frivolous spending for this Lent season. It’s not going to be easy, that’s for sure, but I do not view this fast only in light of what I’m giving up. I see it as an opportunity to gain something much more rewarding: a more focused relationship with God, a greater appreciation for things that cannot be bought, increased self-control (one of the fruits of the spirit), and a time for deeper prayer and faith.

I’m not saying that all spending is bad, or that everyone must give up all of their possessions to be spiritual. I don’t think it’s simply a matter of “buying stuff” that is harmful to me. What’s destructive is the motivation behind many of my purchases: to distract myself, to entertain as a way to escape. Thus, I’m not doing this to save money that I can spend on something else in the future or to pay off bills from what I’ve bought in the past. My motivation is not a financial one; it’s about what this is doing to my heart.

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

- Jesus quoted in Matthew 6:19-21

Unanswered questions

(image from xkcd.com)

In my search for wisdom and in my observation of people's burdens here on earth, I discovered that there is ceaseless activity, day and night. I realized that no one can discover everything God is doing under the sun. Not even the wisest people discover everything, no matter what they claim.

- Ecclesiastes 8:16-17 (NLT)

This is how the footnote in my study bible explains this verse: "Even if we had access to all the world's wisdom, the wisest man would know very little. No one can fully comprehend God and all that he has done, and there are always more questions than answers. But the unknown should not cast a shadow over our joy, faith, or work because we know that someone greater is in control and that we can put our trust in him. Don't let what you don't know about the future destroy the joy God wants to give you today."

I worked at an after-school care center my freshman and sophomore years of college. I was in charge of a dozen four-year-olds. As far as kids go, this age group is pretty fun to work with: they aren't in diapers and usually have decent control over their bladders at this point; they can speak up and tell you if they're hungry, tired, etc, and sometimes they speak English incorrectly in the most adorable way ("Teacher, he hurted me!").

A couple of years later, they'll think they know everything there is to know, but at this age their favorite word is "Why?" They are so curious about the world around them. There were times they would ask me questions that I didn't know the answers to, but if I told them, "I don't know," they would ask me why I didn't know and press for an answer, any answer other than "I just don't know." Seriously, I could make up some b.s. answer and they would be happy with that, as long as I didn't tell them "I don't know." I tried not to do that, though, because it didn't seem right to b.s. a four-year-old, no matter how persistent.

I'm 27 years old, yet I'm still like a preschooler in my constant desire to know all the answers. Usually my curiosity serves me well. Questioning and keeping an open mind are good things and not to be discouraged. I hope my day on Earth never comes when I cease to ask questions entirely, arrogantly assuming that I have everything figured out.

However, my curiosity and tendency to ask questions can be a detriment at times. If something happens to me that hurts, that is confusing, or that I simply don't know how to respond to right away, I tend to over analyze the situation in my quest for figuring out "why." Often I'll try to come to a conclusion that I simply cannot come to without further information or time. I'm not always so patient with "waiting to see what happens."

In these situations, I want to determine the outcome before it arrives. This is when I have to remind myself that God has a plan that is beyond my current understanding and control. And there are some things I may never understand. But, of course, I want a sneak-preview of how it will all work out. I don't want to hear, "I don't know."

Like the preschoolers, sometimes I think I'd rather hear a b.s. answer than not have any answer at all. The trouble with that is it tends to start the slippery slope toward self-deception. And the biggest b.s. answer is that my way and my timing is better than waiting for God's plan to unfold.

But, why? (just kidding)

Whom are you letting name you?

I recently read the book Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. I've been rereading parts of it today, mostly the parts I dog-eared or highlighted the first time I read it. (Yeah, sometimes I geek out and highlight sentences or paragraphs that really resonate with me). Out of all of those highlighted paragraphs, this one stood out to me the most today:

Diane noted the concern on my face and responded, smiling and kind. "It's not that bad, Don. Don't worry. It's just that for some reason, you are letting this girl name you."
"What do you mean, name me?"
"Well, you are letting her decide your value, you know. Your value has to come from God. And God wants you to receive His love and to love yourself too."
And what she was saying was true. . . But it also felt wrong. I mean, it felt like it was an arrogant thing to do, to love myself, to receive love. I knew that all the kicking myself around, all the hating myself, was not coming from God, that those voices were not God whispering in my ear, but it felt like I had to listen to them; it felt like I had to believe the voices were telling the truth.

This was from one of the last chapters in the book. He's talking with a friend, telling her about this relationship he's in and how he really likes this girl he's seeing, how he thinks about her all the time, and yet it is hard. The relationship is hard because he's so afraid of letting her down, he's so afraid that she doesn't really want to be with him, even though she says she does. And the above excerpt is his friend's response to Don after he asks if there's something wrong with how he's feeling.

This past week has kind of sucked for me. I'm getting really burned out on grad school, but that's not all that was bothering me. There was Valentine's Day. Blah. I hate that I let it get to me this year. I'm supposed to be stronger than that, right? Hear me roar and be empowered and, like, not care or something. Roar, darn it, ROAR!

Not so much.

So I wrote the "You are loved" post for Valentine's mostly as a way to remind myself (and friends) that my/our true worth should not be dependent on someone else. And I felt better. For about an hour. Then those destructive thoughts crept in.

First there was the reminder that I don't have a boyfriend on Valentine's Day, which of course reminded me that I very recently went through a breakup, because I almost forgot about that but not really. Those reminders are always such fun.

It didn't take long before the self-defeating thoughts spiraled out of control into an all-out pity party: "You suck at relationships. . . You need to lose weight before you even think of dating anyone again. . . He never really cared about you. . . You're better off alone; you don't need anybody. . . Sometimes you snort when you laugh and it's weird. . ."

It was like getting a really bad song stuck in my head all day, like an odd hybrid of country-western and emo, but even worse because I was the one writing the lyrics. I almost managed to get it out of my head as I was looking at the pretty red tulips my mom gave me (tulips are my favorite flowers, but no, I wouldn't call myself a Calvinist) and then I heard it say, "Nobody has ever given you flowers except your mom, and she has to love you because you're her daughter."

Oh, snap!

I pouted about this for a couple seconds and stopped enjoying the tulips and wondered why nobody I dated before brought me flowers and then I realized the voice was wrong about this one. Aha! I did too get flowers, once. I was on a first date with this guy a couple years ago and he gave me roses. But the date didn't go so well and I wasn't feeling it (at all), so when he asked me out again I told him that I just didn't feel a connection there and he was really disappointed and told me that he thought I was wrong and that we were perfect for each other, which kind of freaked me out because we had just met like a week before. But the point was that I got flowers from someone other than my mom. So there, mean voice in my head! You're wrong! Ha!

But that voice didn't give up so easily. It's a crafty little bugger. While I was still gloating from my victory, it reminded me of how I was too much of a wuss to tell that guy to his face that I wasn't interested in him. Yeah, I told him over email and felt like such a jerk for doing that. Then mean-voice pointed out that I'm a hypocrite because someone once broke up with me via email (although it was a bit more involved than one date) and I was soooo hurt by that, and yet I've done the same thing to someone else.

Ouch.

The spiral kept going throughout the day, and I managed to ignore it most of the time, but the underlying theme of all of those thoughts was that I pretty much suck. Nice, eh?

So, going back to the book excerpt: why was I letting this holiday name me, letting it decide my value? Why was I allowing such unloving thoughts to rummage around my mind?

And it wasn't just some silly holiday that I was letting decide my value. It was harmful messages from our culture that I sometimes buy into about what it means to be lovable and attractive and accepted. It was my past mistakes and hurts. It was my perceptions of how certain other people felt about me. It was my own perfectionism and skewed definition of what it means to be perfect, along with this absurd idea that the only way to be loved is to be perfect, as if love were so conditional that it could be taken away with one flaw, one mistake.

I wish I could write that I am always strong and unaffected by outside influences. I would feel so much wiser if I could say how much I've got it all together and figured out, and that nothing fazes me. "Roar!" But I'm still growing. I'm still learning what it really means to be loved, and, even harder for me sometimes, how to accept and receive that love. Why is it so hard sometimes to truly and completely accept love from God, from others, from myself? And when I think I've finally muffled that mean voice for good and haven't heard from it for days or weeks or months, how does it somehow manage to turn up the volume again when I'm having a rough day and the last thing I need is to get caught in that spiral?

The weird thing is, I am much kinder to myself, overall, than I used to be. Most of the time. Some days are better than others, clearly. And sometimes, like this week, I start to feel myself slipping back into my old perfectionist ways, especially when I'm really stressed. But then I'll catch myself. Or, more likely, God will catch me and get my attention somehow, whether it be through a sermon, words of loving concern from someone, a powerful message in a song or movie, a bible verse, or a passage in a book that I feel compelled to dog-ear or highlight and come back to again when I need some encouragement. So, today I am grateful for those words in that book. And I'm grateful for God's unconditional love that never gives up on me, even when I sometimes feel like giving up on myself.

A couple pages later, Miller writes about how this girl he liked so much broke up with him and how he started to once again berate himself, but that something stopped those voices:

The sentiment was simple: Love your neighbor as yourself. And I thought about that for a second and wondered why God would put that phrase so strongly in my mind . . . He was saying that I would never talk to my neighbor the way I talked to myself, and that somehow I had come to believe it was wrong to kick other people around but it was okay to do it to myself . . . I wouldn't receive love because it felt so wrong. It didn't feel humble, and I knew I was supposed to be humble. But that was all crap, and it didn't make any sense. If it is wrong for me to receive love, then it is also wrong for me to give it because by giving it I am causing somebody else to receive it, which I had presupposed was the wrong thing to do. So I stopped. I stopped hating myself. It no longer felt right. It wasn't manly or healthy, and I cut it out.

Happy Valentine's Day

It seems to me that Valentine's Day, as an adult, is a holiday for couples. Romance. Red roses and boxes of chocolates. For the single person, Valentine's Day is not a fun holiday because, for some reason, it is marketed as a time to express love that only belongs to those who are in a romantic relationship. What a narrow definition of love we seem to have on this holiday. For all of my single friends out there who feel this day only serves as a way to put you down, I have something to say:

You are loved.

Even if you are single and you don't have a person to call your Valentine. Even if you don't feel lovable. Even if you don't know how to receive it or don't know what it means to be loved.

This Love is unconditional. Adores you, relentlessly pursues you, 365 days a year, not just on February 14. Loves you for who you are and wants only the best for you. Always. Even when you screw up or turn away or deny it is there.

This Love will not leave you feeling rejected or not good enough. Won't play mind games with you or tell you that it "just wants to be friends." Won't shut you out or leave you for someone else.

And when your heart is broken or you feel alone, this Love will be there to comfort you, right by your side, even when you don't see it or feel it.

Whatever your Valentine's Day may bring, don't forget this one thing: You are loved!

But you, O Lord, are a God of compassion and mercy, slow to get angry and filled with unfailing love and faithfulness.
Psalm 86:15

Loaded label

"You may not yet be a Christian and thinking of becoming one, but you’re worried that if you do you’ll become a worse person: judgmental, arrogant, narrow-minded, bigoted, and brainwashed. You feel attracted to something good on the path of Jesus, but you wish you could get that something good without a lot of extra religious, social, and maybe even political baggage. Do I have to like organ music? Do I have to say, ‘Praise the Lord,’ all the time? Do I have to vote Republican? Do I have to oppose civil rights for homosexuals? You wonder if there’s any way to follow Jesus without becoming a Christian."

- Brian McLaren, A Generous Orthodoxy

This is harder than I thought it would be. I’ve never had such difficulty writing something. I want to write about my faith, to express why it is so important to me, to be a witness, yet the words don’t seem to be flowing…

Part of my hesitation is this awareness that once I identify myself as a Christian and someone who is active in the church, this will immediately conjure up some opinions about what that means about me. And it won’t always be in a flattering light.

I can understand why these labels are there in so many minds. For a long time, I shied away from getting truly involved in the church because I thought these things myself. For whatever reasons, I associated being an active Christian with arrogance and harsh judgments, rather than love and grace. I’m not sure where I got these stereotypes from – maybe it was a couple bad experiences with really pushy evangelists or seeing/reading about outspoken extremists in the media – but I definitely had my prejudices about what it meant to be an involved member of the church, even though I grew up going to church and my mom was involved in our church and she wasn’t like these stereotypes I had.

Regardless, I thought that if I met friends through church and became a part of that setting, I would have to change a lot about myself to fit in. I thought I would have to vote a certain way in elections as part of the “moral majority” regardless of what I felt was the best vote. I would have to listen to Rush Limbaugh, Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson and never question anything they said or did. I thought I would have to hate gay people and violently protest at abortion clinics and look down on anyone who was not a Christian, while at the same time try to “save” them from their sinful ways so they wouldn’t have to spend an eternity burning in hell. I thought I would have to quote bible verses as a way to condemn others and “set them straight.”

And those verses in the bible that seemed to put down women and portray us as second-class citizens to men? Yeah, I thought I would just have to accept those words and not question whether those verses might be taken out of context or if that’s really what God wants for over half the population. Or, for that matter, not question anyone else’s interpretations of any other bible verses because, as a woman, it wasn’t my place to question them because – look here! – the bible says so (or does it?).

Almost as unfortunate as being inferior to men, I thought I would have to stop listening to the music I liked and only listen to cheesy “Christian” songs that they only play on radio stations at the bottom of the dial. I envisioned those commercials I used to see on TV that advertised praise CDs (call now! Only $19.99 plus shipping and handling). The ones where people in the audience sang along with their eyes closed and hands reaching toward the heavens and many of them had these strange expressions on their faces that kind of made me snicker when I saw the commercial because it seemed sort of staged and inauthentic, or maybe I just thought they looked “uncool” and I, of course, was much cooler than that. As for movies and television? Nothing over a PG rating would be acceptable. And, like, I’d have to own the entire Left Behind series of movies and watch them over and over again until I could quote every line Kirk Cameron’s character said.

I’m not saying all of this stuff is a bad thing, but it just didn’t appeal to me. At all. The bottom line is that I thought I would have to become someone I was not, someone I couldn’t relate to, someone I didn’t want to be. And I wouldn't meet anyone that I would want to be friends with in that setting.

I was wrong.

In my early twenties, I already had a spiritual life and a strong belief in God, but it was not shared in community. It was something I did on my own, outside of the church walls. Even though I was a Sunday School teacher at my parents’ church, I just didn’t feel connected to the Christian life, and I didn’t really want to be.

Nearly four years ago, though, I decided to check out a young adult group at a local church, mainly because I had just graduated college and I was lonely and not meeting people my age. Since then, I’ve met some truly wonderful people and friends and I’ve deepened in my understanding and appreciation for the church. Not only have I not had to become someone I am not, but I am actually closer to being the authentic version of who I really am. And I've never even had to sit through a single viewing of Left Behind, although I do enjoy the occasional Growing Pains rerun. Who doesn't?

I still have a long way to go, of course. But now, four years later, I finally feel comfortable enough to truly own this statement, out loud and in writing: I am a Christian.

So what exactly does that mean? There are probably numerous definitions, depending on whom you ask. To keep things simple, I’ll go to the dictionary:

Chris·tian (krĭs'chən) American Heritage Dictionary
n.

1. One who professes belief in Jesus as Christ.
2. One who lives according to the teachings of Jesus.

Of the definition above, I strive to be the second part: I want to live the way Jesus taught us to live. Not that the first part of this definition isn’t important, but I see it more as talking the talk: “I am a Christian because I believe Jesus was the Messiah”

The second part, to me, goes further than what one says and contradicts a lot of those negative stereotypes about what it means to be a Christian: I am a Christian because of my faith and my actions, which means I love others as myself and I love the Lord with all my heart and I try to live as Jesus taught.

In short, I want to walk the walk, although many times I fall far short of doing this. Even though I stumble over and over again, I keep trying because it’s the most important thing in my life. This is what I hope to share in this blog: my walk in faith, as clumsy and imperfect as it may be.