I.
I have avoided writing about what’s really going on with me because I know I’m in the middle of a lesson. I wanted to wait till the end to write a cute fable about a trial (complete with funny and slightly humiliating anecdotes) and end result (regardless of how big my accomplishment or whether or not I accomplished much at all). Well, that takes time, and then it takes a few days (give or take) to come up with a witty one-liner about the moral of my story, something that will resonate and linger long after you’ve forgotten my words.
June has been one long lesson peppered with mini victories and disappointing mess-ups. Sometimes I feel like my slow progress doesn’t count because of the mess-ups. I feel like a dog wearing roller skates making frantic, futile attempts to stop rolling down a steep hill. Over the past couple of months, God has cracked me open and revealed several “areas of growth/brokenness”, much to my chagrin. My character looks like the inside of a pumpkin in December. I’m sharing because I want to be honest. I can tell people that I found a blue microbead from my body wash stuck in my butt crack but hesitate to share what God is doing in my life? How silly.
I hope that regardless of what you may think of me after reading this, you see what God is doing in me. I tried to ignore Him by offering valid excuses—wedding planning, work, Graves’ Disease, marriage—but I’ve run out, and not a moment too soon, I’m sure. I don’t know what He has in store but I’ve finally stopped resisting and am willing to be changed into something better than what I am. Though I fuss and whine and get angry about the lesson, I thank Him (probably not as often as I should) for loving me, for wanting me to be the best version of myself.
II.
I always empathized with the nameless character in Dr. Seuss’ beloved classic, Green Eggs And Ham. He knew what he liked and those odd green eggs and ham just weren’t on that list. Personally, I respected that and wouldn’t have pushed him. At the same time, I admired Sam-I-Am for his tenacity. By golly, he had a prize to share and he wasn’t going to give up until the person unknown tried it for himself! I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I realized that I am guilty of playing both roles (when it’s convenient).
I feel that I deserve to act like the nameless man when it comes to jelly beans and people. I know I sound like a terrible person for admitting that I am stubborn and selective about the people I “allow” into my life so I’ll first talk about jelly beans.
Jelly Belly jelly beans take me back to childhood visits to my mom’s office, which was pretty much the only time I had access to the huge jar of jelly beans she kept on her desk. I think it was for decoration or for other people because my mom always snacked on fruit. Whenever my sister and I got to visit, she would allow us to eat those magical, sugary beans on one condition: we had to pour them out of the jar or grab them by the handful. We were notorious repeat offenders, guilty of only picking our favorite flavors and leaving behind the mud and stucco colored beans; you couldn’t tell if the coloring was intentionally drab or if they were old. Because she was Mom--second to God but only by a miniscule margin--we complied. Both of us would take turns pouring the jelly beans into a bowl or onto a napkin. My sister, four years younger (with the patience to prove it), had a tendency to pour the beans quickly and without any technique. I, on the other hand, poured slowly, often rotating the jar to see if I could locate a pocket that contained all of my favorite flavors. Once located, I’d gently sift the beans out so the least amount of offending flavors made it out of the jar. Licorice, Grape Jelly, Buttered Popcorn, Plum, Jalapeno, and Strawberry Jam were always put back when my mom wasn’t looking.
I still consider my technique to be a legitimate loophole.
Unfortunately, I also apply this philosophy to people. Insert pregnant pause where children cry, my mother shakes her head in disapproval, and my sister disowns me. And everyone un-friends me on Facebook.
Please don’t assume I don’t feel bad about this. I consider myself to be a fairly nice person, though I know I used to be much nicer/kinder/more compassionate. At 26, for whatever reason, I feel that I am “allowed” to be selective about the people I choose to let in. I mean really let in. I use quotes because I act like I have control over the guest list. I offer ridiculous excuses to God about why I don’t want to let certain people in:
“Oh God, that person is needy. Boundaries--there would be no boundaries if I got involved…and then it would just be messy. Yeah, I just don’t do too well with needy people. I don’t have the patience, sorry…but You know who does have loads of patience? My friend from church…”
“You’ve already introduced me to her. I can’t help her, God. I mean, I know that only You can help her but I’m just saying I showed her Your Word, prayed for her, and told her what she should do but she’s still doing what she wants. *shrug* I don’t think there’s much else I can do.”
“I don’t think I’m a good candidate to help this person. For starters, I already told him about that night I got trashed and puked and peed in my underwear at the same time. Wouldn’t it be kind of weird to talk about You knowing what he knows about me? Yeah…I know I should think more before I share certain things…okay lots of things…I’ll work on that.”
“I see this as being more than a self-esteem issue. I can’t force them to believe they're valued and loved by You; you can know something but not believe it, but of course, You already know that about people. Anyway, You don’t force people to believe so who am I…? There are plenty of other people who are naturally (okay, spiritually) gifted to affirm and encourage…Plus, I was hoping I could pass this one and get a break. I’ve had a heck of a year already, what with the wedding, my family, health, work, now marriage…I mean, I know You already know about all this. I just like repeating things…”
So I exaggerated a little (because the ridiculous is funnier and more acceptable) but I am guilty of thinking or feeling these thoughts. *wince* I just don’t want to get involved. I am selfish! I admit it! I don’t feel the need to keep adding to my friend pool because the people in my life are fantastic! They’re smart, funny, kind, humble, compassionate, creative, very inclusive, adventurous pirates, bold karaoke singers, and are passionate about food, the environment, song and dance, laughter, and sunshine. Oh, and they’re all (more are less) self-assured—not cocky—and are very easy going. Most of them really love God and are constantly seeking Him. They ask deep (and sometimes not-so-deep) questions to which we do not always have answers (and this is perfectly acceptable). Together we try to figure out how we’re supposed to live out His love in tangible ways in our local and global communities; I'm sorry that sounded like a mission statement. It just tumbled out before I had a chance to restrain myself. Yes, it’s true--I am part of a traveling hoard of Jesus-loving gypsies. We are perfect.
Not.
Getting to know people is easy (for me). Letting them in, committing to doing life/walking alongside them through the mire—that’s another story. It’s a lot of work. I am already part of another community; I’m not really looking to branch out right now. I’m really not the right person to help you through this. You need God. You already have your own friends. You’re weird/difficult/awkward/tactless/insert useless reason. I have a lot of problems/issues that I need to focus on right now. I'm just as screwed up as you are (probably more); I can't really help you if I'm drowning (I'm a weak swimmer).
I know I’m wrong. Even before God tapped me on the shoulder, I could feel I was wrong. It’s sort of like that itchy feeling you feel in the back of your throat when you know you’re getting sick. You know what’s coming. When your butt hole itches, you know it’s because you didn’t wipe well. You have to go back for a second wipe. I tried desperately to ignore Him but He’s God. He’s everywhere, in every detail. Through conversations, devotionals, prayers, events, and the wetlands at first light, God said:
YOU ARE WRONG!!! *Cue thunder, lightning, and chariots of fire.
If that had happened, I would’ve peed in my pants for the third time in three years. Nothing supernatural happened. He just held up a mirror—not in judgment or condemnation, but in love—and waited till I had the courage to look. And when I looked in the mirror, I saw those people I scorned, judged, held at arm’s length, criticized, gossiped about, ridiculed, and crushed with my words, attitudes, actions, and self-righteousness. Except instead of their faces I saw my own.
I cried.
III.
Like I said before, I’m in the middle of the lesson. I wish I could tell you that I’m so much better at loving people now, that I have become an excellent listener, faithful confidante, and regularly attend and invite people to fellowship gatherings (or whatever). Truthfully, my progress/growth fluctuates every day (as I expected). It makes me uncomfortable because every fiber in me wants to politely say, “I empathize with your problems but can’t help you. I’m retired/on sabbatical.” I might even add,“I appreciate your kind and generous offer—and you have much to offer—but all of the roles in my community have been filled.”
Thankfully, God sends certain people in my life to gently lift up that proverbial mirror when I need it; at this point, it happens several times a week. Yeah, I’m a terrible person (but God and I are working on it).
