to be known

I had the privilege to speak at a women’s conference this last weekend, and in a way that only God could, he intervened on my topic. Which made me very nearly terrified.

The theme of the conference was “Patterns God is Weaving in Our Lives” and after going through several topic ideas, I realized I wasn't particularly passionate about any of them. I could speak on them, with some measure of authority, but I was fearful that it wouldn't come from the heart. (Which is a miracle in itself, because two years ago I don’t know that I would have been in tune with myself enough to understand the importance of speaking on a topic that matters to you – and how that makes your talk so much better.)

Enough with the suspense – my talk was Patterns of Love: Vulnerability and the Lavish Love of God. Now, of course, with the word “vulnerability” you have to know that Brené Brown’s material comes into play, though I used almost nothing of her’s in my talk. She mostly just inspired me to do the talk in the first place. Reading Brennan Manning’s The Signature of Jesus last summer and going through the Sonship study though World Harvest Mission also inspired me. But what was beautiful and appropriate was just how much scripture I was able to use. There was a lot of it, and there is a lot more in scripture that tells us just how much God loves us.

Here is probably the most important truth I’ve taken from this last year: as well as the most terrifying truth I’ve ever faced:

You are completely known and loved by the God of the universe (anyway), and to feel and understand that kind of love on earth you have to let yourself be known by others.

[can you hear my screams?]

Today I learn some information that is causing me to question much of what I thought I knew about a person, and a family unit. It makes me so fearful of what we can hide from each other just because we are afraid.

AFRAID.

There is a lot about myself that I dislike. A lot. It’s not pretty, really. It’s shameful. And a couple of weeks ago, I was listening to s sermon that will haunt me for the rest of my life, but also reaffirmed everything I learn in 2013 about love.

“Nothing drives shame away from the heart more than being fully known yet still delighted in.” – Matt Chandler

I am still reeling from the truth and consequences of this statement. Because I know it to be true after everything I’ve learned this last year.

So I’m trying to hard not to be afraid anymore. I’m trying to be more honest. I’m trying to very hard to let others know me. Because I don’t want this shame. I don’t want to live my life and after it’s over, have people wonder if they really knew me.

Back in college, I was introduced to a band called Waterdeep, and I became obsessed. The lead singer, Don Chaffer, put out a solo album before the band was formed and here are some lyrics from that album:

She said, "Aaron, I don't think
I've ever wanted as much
To be free as I've longed to be known….

I’ve never intellectualized, until this last year, that you would lose your freedom if you were known. I imagine the theory behind this is that you would be bound in being known because the weight of that truth would crush you. And perhaps that the world sees freedom in the control that we desire to have in letting people know only so much.

This is really what it comes down to, isn’t it? We try so hard to control what people know about us, partially because of the shame we feel about who we really are, but also because we have a pre-conceived notion that people will only like parts of us and not all of us.

…And of the things that I hate
As I look at my life,
The worst is my being alone.

This is the consequence of finding your identity in others, and not in Christ. Being alone as the only person who knows you, other than God, from whom no truth can be hidden.

…And as they headed home, neither of them could speak a word 
And they held their own spirits to blame 
But at the pulse of the waves, they both turned around 
Surely someone was calling their name 

God is calling us not just to know him, but to know each other. Because if grace and love prevails, knowing each other will not result in shame and judgment, but in, “I see you. Me, too. Let’s walk through this together.”

You can listen to Matt’s sermon here.

Buy the Sonship study here.

Buy The Signature of Jesus here

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Listen to Don Chaffer’s song here.

Learn more about the conference here.

Expectations and Saving Mr. Banks

Unless you are living under a rock, you probably went to go see Saving Mr. Banks in the last few weeks. I was glad to be warned ahead of time that this was not a sweet and happy film about the making of a sweet and happy film I remember from my childhood. I was told it was long, sad, the main character was an awful human being and was told to bring tissues.

I’ve decided I prefer being mentally prepared like that, because I liked the movie, and I’m convinced it’s because I knew what I was getting myself into when I walked into the theater. So I was able to look closer, which is one of my favorite things to do at the movies, and find beauty in the mess. This time, though, I feel like it created a mess in my life. But I’m thinking it’s a mess that needed to be created.

When Walt flies to Europe at the end to see Mrs. Travers, he says to her, “You came to Hollywoodexpecting that I would disappoint you. And so I did.” This was my biggest takeaway. I haven’t stopped thinking about it in the last week since I saw the movie.

I starting working on a post about expectations two days before I saw the movie and now this line has me all twisted up inside. How often do I have an expectation of a person, while believing with my heart that they will disappoint me? Does it affect how I treat the person, how much I trust them? And does that affect the outcome at all? Walt implied that it did, in the case of Mrs. Travers. Though I realize that much of her expectation involved a desperate need for her to let go… and every situation involving expectations is not about letting go.

Or is it?

Welp. I think I just ran my thought process into a circle. So this just means I have to let go, right?

Here’s the thing with expectations, disappointment, and letting go. I feel like this would mean I would have to stop caring, too. Because caring is so very close to expectation (though they are certainly not mutually exclusive.) Would the absence of expectation also mean the absence of caring?

So – let’s really think about this. Caring vs expectations. Is there a difference? Does removing expectation from our life mean caring will cease? If we usually expect something from a person or a situation and we remove that expectation, is it possible to still care about the person or the situation? I’m not sure I have this exactly right. Because I think we can still love the person, but perhaps removing expectations means we become indifferent to their actions.

Oy. “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” –Elie Wiesel, Holocust survivor and political activist.

Still working on my word for the year… I just haven’t been able to settle on one. But I do think I will do a series on expectations. I have much more to say and am thinking about many other areas under this umbrella. The post I began working on before the quote from Saving Mr. Banks turned me all upside down will have to wait for another day. (Which is convenient, because it’s a painfully vulnerable post.) But I am going to be thinking and watching how my expectations of disappointment affect my relationships. Man, I just know this is going to be painful.

the risk of excruciating vulnerability

I discovered this talk a couple of years ago and I watch it pretty regularly. Each time I take away something different. Which I both love and hate.

 “There is only one variable that separated the people who have a sense of love and belonging and the people who really struggle for it and that was that people who have a sense of love and belonging believe they are worthy of love and belonging… the one thing that keeps us out of connection is the fear that we are not worthy of connection.”

What then, are we to do, when someone we desire a connection with doesn’t reciprocate? How do we NOT withdraw again, how do we believe that we are worth connecting with?

“We must be willing to invest in relationships that may or may not work out…”

“…to let ourselves be seen”

These may be my two greatest fears. I am willing to be excruciatingly vulnerable if I knew the other person would not only be ok with it, but would still love me anyway. (And not leave.) Yet her research showed that the way to live is with vulnerability, which is to stop controlling and predicting.

Vulnerability is the birthplace of joy, creativity, belonging, love, Brown says.  So all the things I really want. But being vulnerable takes all of that out of you. At least for me, most of the time.

One of the greatest powers we are given as human beings is the power to reject others.  I know this because I have been rejected and I know the power it has over me. It’s incredible. We must walk carefully into this power with others, or we leave a wake of broken hearts behind us. I’ve been one of the broken hearts many times. I pray I have not been the one doing the breaking.

Brown also talks about how we cannot selectively numb emotions. She claims we cannot numbs fear and rejection without numbing joy and love, too. I realized while watching this for the umpteenth time today that this is powerfully connected to expectations. If you decided not to expect anything (and I know people who try this) the claim is you will never be disappointed. But will you also end up never feeling joy or love, too? I’m thinking and wondering about this potential truth.

Because I want it not to be so. I want to come to a place in my life where I don’t feel disappointed  or rejected (note that I am I am not saying that I wish disappointment or rejection would never actually happen. I’m not that delusional.) But I really want to figure out how not to be devastated by it.

Usually when I work on a post the typing and words come fast and freely at the start. I may go back and do some serious editing, but the typing and emotions come running out so fast I can hardly keep up. This time I am typing with awareness and lots and lots of typos. There is a metaphor here, I’m sure of it. I am so unsure of what I am feeling right now (and yes, a particular person has caused these crazy emotions in me and it makes me want to cut them out of my life. I’m trying to decide if they are a blessing or a lesson right now.) But I am trying very hard to coach myself through it. When I need this, Brown’s TED talk helps.

Vulnerability is courage, Brown says, in another one of her TED talks. I’ve never seen it as a weakness, thankfully. But I do object to the way it makes me feel. Because vulnerability makes me feel known… and when that is rejected, it destroys me. Because I already have a very fragile belief that I am worthy in the first place.

This all boils down to risk. The risk we take when we allow someone to enter into our lives. The risk we take when we remove a wall, brick by brick, to allow someone else to see who you really are. And not just who you are, but also how you feel, and what you feel about them, too.

I’m fully aware that I am talking in circles. I’m just trying to figure out how I feel about all of this. Actually, no. I’m trying to figure a way out of all of these feelings. That’s clearly two different things. My heart desperately wants a way out of these painful emotions and my head is telling me that’s just not going to happen. Perhaps it should be the other way around, but I’ve never been one to do things normally.

I think this is why her second TED talk is about listening to shame. There is shame in rejection. There is shame in not feeling good enough for someone to want to be with you.  

As she says, part of shame is to walk through it and find our way around. I think that’s what I’m trying to do here. While I would prefer to go around the swamp in my soul where shame resides, I think it’s time to put on my boots and find my way around. Not looking forward to it. But my word for 2013 was “anything” and 2013 is still here. I'm now wondering what my word for 2014 will be.

sentimentality and the death of Christmas idols

I’ve always been a particularly sentimental and nostalgic person, and it has increased significantly since moving away from my family, where this nostalgia is often born. Even as a teenager, I collected and kept things that represent memories and moments that are special to me. I have a keepsake box in my living room – it’s actually one of those old photo boxes you used to be able to purchase at craft stores, but since we no longer print pictures, I’m sure it’s an antiquated reference. However, I love to use them for keepsakes, and every so often I get it out and look through the odd little items from years and years ago and remember. The box contains everything from piles of letters from dear friends to a piece of a broken plate. Other random items: small plastic toy with a particularly funny memory, a sticker from another great moment in life... you get the idea.

 This kind of sentimentality is one of my favorite things about decorating my Christmas tree, as nearly every ornament is attached to a particular season in my life. I buy each one with intention or have received many as gifts from special people in my life, that remind me of them. The night I set aside to decorate my tree is sacred to me, including my favorite Christmas music and a great cup of hot cocoa from Trader Joes. 2013 is the first year of my life I do not get to spend with my family. They planned to come to Arizona early this year for their winter visit, but my dad’s doctors had other plans. While they determine the cause and potentially a course of treatment his irregular heart beat (which he was born with, so my dad is sure they will find nothing out of the ordinary) mom and dad are grounded in the cold Nebraska winter. They didn’t even put up a Christmas tree or decorate the house for the season. I think mom is just as disappointed as I am. I, however, have a full house decorated in anticipation of them coming, including brand new stockings for each of us hanging from one of my bookcases. I purchased a new Christmas tree, planned meals, made LOTS of Christmas cookies, some chex mix… the list goes on and on.

 I was preparing.

 I was already wondering how I would deal with an Arizona Christmas, as I’ve never had one before. But I’m not completely inadaptable to change, so this year I went back for Nebraska for Thanksgiving in exchange for them coming early. But now they are not coming at all. We will facetime each other this evening so we can at least “pretend” to be together this Christmas. Last year I remember being in the wrapping paper section at Target, and weirdly, finding an idol. This Christmas, with death, tragedy, people plowing into the relatives of my small group friends, causing them to be in the ICU, no mom and dad to spend Christmas with… well. It suddenly felt pretty much not like Christmas.

 And then I remember this:

 

 And I uncovered another idol.

What is Christmas, anyway? This is the hard question I've been asking myself these past several days. In the last 5 years, since I moved away from my family, Christmas has been about seeing them. It’s the only time I get to see most of them in the year. I'm close with my family and they mean a lot to me. I know this is rare for many, and that is perhaps why I cherish it so much. But the Christmas season became preparing to see them... making plans to see them... I got excited to see them. In other words, in my heart, Christmas hasn’t really been about Jesus. Ooof. It's very hard for me to admit that, because I don't believe I've forgotten the amazing gift of Jesus Christ. But I have not placed Jesus in the forefront of my own heart.

Two weeks ago I gave a message from Matthew 3, about how preparing for the Messiah looks like repentance and producing fruit. Well, as lonely as I will be this Christmas, I have much to repent of in my heart. Not my favorite way to spend Christmas, but certainly a way that will help me grow. Uncovering idols tend to do that. I hate it, but there it is.

disappointment, love and being an INFJ

It’s been a while since I've talked about disappointment in a post. And I’m experiencing it in spades right now, so that usually means I needs to write about it. So I can figure out how I feel. Yes, this is how an INFJ works.

I have a friend in my life that regularly disappoints me. Not because of unrealistic expectations, but because he says he is going to do something and he doesn't do it.

It ranges from telling me, “I’ll call you tomorrow.” to “We are going to watch that movie together. I can’t believe you haven’t seen it.” To then things like, “I’ll come by and see you.” And other kinds of statements. Nothing huge. But little things add up to a lot.

Oh, there is that evil math again.

It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. -1 Corinthians 5:13 (NIV)

NERD ALERT: I prefer the ESV most of the time, but with the Greek word, I think the NIV is a bit more faithful to the original meeting.  Logizomaimeans to reckon, count, compute. The ESV translates it as irritable. Keeps no record seems more faithful to me. But then again, I’m not a bible translator.

So I don’t want to keep a record of all the times he has said he was going to do something and didn't, (though, obviously I have) because we’re told that’s not how love behaves. But I also wonder about keeping my friend accountable, wanting to be his sister in Christ. I know he wants to be a better man, but I am also asking myself, “What is my responsibility here? What is the right thing to do?”

I am grieving today. And in the last 48 hours I've had to tell a number of congregation members about the death of an entire family that is a significant part of our church. There were dearly cherished and loved by many. So I grieve. But I've had to grieve on my own. I've had to be pastoral to those with which I’ve broken the news, and in the process have not been able to break down with someone with which I feel safe.

I recognize this is part of being in ministry. But that’s also why I cherish the small number of friends I do have, because I can be safe with them. These are the spaces I need to grieve in – in places of love and safety and comfort. Because my friend did not follow through with a promise, I haven’t been able to grieve with someone safe today. I am leading worship tomorrow, singing the matriarch of the family’s favorite song. I doubt I will get through it, and I was hoping that safe place would help me prepare. But my friend disappointed me today.

This is a wrong I’m keeping track of, and it doesn't feel like love. It feels like a sacrifice I don’t want to make. Sometimes I would like others to sacrifice for me. And when I ask for it, I try not to ask for too much. But I’m often let down.

“Consequently, most INFJs are protective of their inner selves, sharing only what they choose to share when they choose to share it. They are deep, complex individuals, who are quite private and typically difficult to understand.” (From the above link, profile of an INFJ.)  

This makes it really hard for me to find friends, which is why I am so careful with the ones I do have. This kind of turmoil is my least favorite kind, because I don’t know what to do. And I long to know what to do.

when I get to guest post for Preston Yancey

Earlier this year, I was chosen to be one of 12 for a guest post series author Preston Yancey was doing while he finished his book this summer, Tables in the Wilderness, with Zondervan. After some extenuating circumstances, it is now on his website, but part of a different guest post series than planned. I am humbled to have been chosen by him, as his words are beautiful and real. He said he finds my words the same. What?!? Craziness.

You can read it here: so i had to bake a peach pie

in repair

You may have noticed something different around here.

I’ve always, for the last several years of blogging, tried my best to be honest in my writing. Part of it is exposing what is inside of me to the outside world, and figuring out just how I feel can only be done by writing it out. (Mostly.)

There has been of shift of late, particularly in the last several months. I’m making more time to write like I used to, but I am shifting into something that may not seem like a big deal to you, but oh… it is to me.

Remember my word for 2013? Anything? I had something else in mind entirely when that word presented itself to me, which sort of defeats the point. But I am reminded that I did pray that word to God, promising him that whatever he would be up to, I would do it if he asked. God has been whispering some big truths to me, since about March of this year, that I now seem to find everywhere. In things I read, classes I teach, sermons I listen to, books I finish and bible studies I work on. I’m still working on processing these truths, so it is too soon to reveal them to you right now, although many of them have been expressed here over the years because they are a deep part of who I am. I am just now connecting them to my emotions. Big stuff here.

But this shift is intentional. It is part of the hard heart stuff that a child of God must work through, especially one like me, that often lives as an orphan. The shift: I am trying to write more courageously.

This goes beyond being honest and authentic, I believe. I can be those things and still not be 100% transparent. I can write in that way but not reveal the tough feelings that may bring a reader down. (And me, when I writing them.) But I’m trying to remember that this kind of courage is less about who sees this and reads this, which makes me feel vulnerable and scared.

This is about admitting these things to myself.

And feelings are always far more real when you tell others. Far more real when you allow the words to tumble out of your heart, through your fingers tips, onto a keyboard and appear on a computer screen. This kind of writing is forcing me to examine all that is inside and lay it all out there so I can look at it and say to myself, “There. This is truth. It’s messy. It’s sad. It’s got some self-pity, some love… It’s painful. So. What are you going to do with it now?”

When I first started writing in this format, I remember that the name for this blog didn’t take any time at all to settle on. (I just wish blogspot would delete comewhatmay, which has been inactive for many years, so that I can have it.) I guess that title really isn't all that different from “anything” now that I think about it. But I am trying to take it a step further… by being more honest and transparent about the darkness in my heart so that Christ may shine a light through it in some way.

“I am in repair – I’m not together, but I’m getting there.”