Thus far this week I have managed
to:
-Talk when I should have listened
-Spend half a sermon thinking about
how badly I need to go shopping and how much I hate shopping (it's a vicious
cycle)
-Fail someone I love not once, but twice
in the same day
-Make and break a new schedule
within 24 consecutive hours
-Freak out about college
applications I should have taken care of sooner
-Get irritated with the people I
love most in the whole world
-Feel really lame for having these
problems
(Hi, welcome to my life!)
~
As I slowly sunk into this quagmire
of failure, Piper's words hit me like a lifeline:
"Shame is a painful emotion caused by a consciousness
of guilt or shortcoming or impropriety. The pain is caused not merely by our
own failures but by the awareness that others see them."
[John Piper]
At first, the quote might
seem more condemning than redemptive: **sarcasm
alert** "So, not only am I guilty, but I only feel the guilt because
I'm worried about what other people think? Guilty and egotistical. Great!
I feel so much better about myself now!!"
(Actually, I felt a lot worse.)
Truth has a razor-sharp edge;
it pierces and burns before it heals.
~
Of course, I don't enjoy messing up. But it's easy to
dismiss my shortcomings as mere mistakes and to flippantly say that I'll
"do better next time" - unless I am aware that others saw what
I did wrong. Then, my failures afflict me. I am burdened, I feel ashamed; I
might even weep. But I weep because I see myself through the eyes of other
people and find I am not all I wish to be.
~
I like to play with reality. When I
take walks, I spin and re-spin the story of my life (present, past, future) in
beautiful words. I draw on real events, embellishing them to make myself
sometimes tragic, sometimes amusing, but always picturesque. Always the
heroine.
And the funny thing is, I keep telling myself those stories
even though they make me miserable. They make me miserable because they never
come true. I know they never will.
~
Here we come to a very quiet place.
Imagine somewhere like spring. Small white flowers
are dusted over the grass, a sort of starry powder. The flowers turn their
little faces to the sun and open slowly, so slowly that you would never see
their petals uncurl and stretch to meet the morning. They have so recently
sprung from the soil.
the leap,
the purge, the quick humility
of witnessing a birth
That’s what Kay Ryan said. When I tried to explain the
feeling back in March, I said this:
There is a richness underground, a sort of historical wisdom –
A humility in these
springtime stars.
I like Kay Ryan’s words better, but that’s beside the point. Here’s
what struck me: I’m not the only one who associates birth and humility. It’s
me, Kay Ryan the poet of sunshine, and someone else…
~
…that would be Jesus.
“And He called a
child to Himself and set him before them, and said, ‘Truly I say to you, unless
you are converted and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of
heaven. Whoever then humbles himself as this child, he is the greatest in the
kingdom of Heaven.” –Matthew 18:2-4.
I spend so much time trying to be a parent-figure, a
mentor-figure, a hero-figure. Constantly, I seek to mold myself into someone of
worth and significance. I suppose that is not all bad.
But I spend so little time being comforted because someone
who loves me and who is stronger than me says everything is going to be OK.
These days, I don’t often squeal with delight because “GUYSthere’saLIZARDonthewindow”
(always pronounced without spacing). When was the last time I sobbed because a
baby bird fell out of his nest? And what happened to the times I hugged crying people instead of listing
off ways for them to fix their problems?
Peace, wonder, tenderness, compassion - childlike traits.
And they come because children are small, know they are small, and are content
to be small. A child is happily subordinate. A child trusts without
understanding.
There is such freedom, such rest, in not being at the
center of all my stories. It’s lovely to know someone much more competent than
I am will save the day.
~
Here is where we find the gentle side of truth.
I have plenty of failures. Layers upon layers of them, and
we’re still peeling! (I say we, because it’s a collaborative effort between
God, the world, and myself). But when I can acknowledge those failures and lay
them at Jesus’ feet with a spirit of genuine repentance and childlike trust,
there is rest. When faith lets me see the world through God’s eyes (not others’
eyes, least of all my own), I am freed from this shackling shame.
By the grace of God, I will be a child.
 |
| artsy picture |
 |
| artsy picture |
 |
| realistic picture |
 |
| PC to Renee, who is wonderful |
Nor do I involve myself
in great matters,
Or in things too
difficult for me.
Surely I have
composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child
rests against his mother,
My soul is like a
weaned child within me.”
[Psalm 131:1-2]
