Chasing After Me

Independence.

We seek it. We’re recognized for it. We’re even rewarded for it.

But why?

It starts in school…during parent/teacher conferences we hear phrases like “she’s a independent worker, you should be proud.” And it doesn’t stop there…we even see it in performance reviews at work as a measure of success. And, even in everyday life, how often do you catch yourself thinking “I can do this myself”?

Guess what?! I can’t do this myself. And I’m done trying to pretend I can.

I’m done with independence.

It’s not for me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking thinking for yourself – I’m a big fan. I’m not ripping on the taking care of yourself – that’s necessary. I’m not talking about an individual’s work-style or the need for people to simply focus and get work done – because at some point, work just needs to get done. And, I’m not even talking about the differences of being extroverted or introverted. What I’m talking about is bigger than any of those things. I’m talking about the psychology of thinking we can and should do everything on our own…and the drive to make it happen.

I’ve learned that, for me, striving for independence causes pride. It makes me think I can do things best on my own…without people who care about me…without people who are smarter than me…and even without God. Furthermore, the more I pretend to be independent, the more miserable and lonely I am. And all of that is no longer OK with me.

The hardest part of the realization? Admitting it.

It happened again the other day. Instead of telling some friends I needed them…I shrugged it off as something trite. Seriously?! I couldn’t even admit to my closest friends that I needed their guidance and encouragement. As if asking for it made me weaker. Really, God forbid, anyone know I can’t do something on my own. I was being stubborn about my independence…I was being stupid.

We were created to be relational beings. We were created to communicate with one another. Hello…Adam and Eve?! It’s been collaborative since the beginning, my friends.

Think about it…

At work…do you really think that no one could possibly have a better idea than your idea? Or even someone’s insight might make your idea stronger? Of course we know that. Most of us have seen collaboration create stronger results. It works. If that’s true, why do we worry about doing it alone just to get the credit?

What about your friends and family…do you need them to love you? Care about you? Or is it all about what you bring to them? Of course not…we need them, too…but all too often we’re afraid to admit it.

What about your relationship with God? Do you really think it’s all about what you can do for him? Think again. God doesn’t need you to do squat for him. He loves us so much that he already did EVERYTHING for us. All we need to do is let that love overflow from us.

I’m done pretending.

I can’t do it alone. I wasn’t called to be on this journey in life alone.

I need people. I need God.

And, it’s liberating to admit it.

Being dependent on others makes me smarter, stronger and more complete…not to mention, humble.

I am unashamedly and blissfully dependent. And I wouldn’t change it for anything.

Fear is a funny thing. It’s not always obvious. It’s horribly uncomfortable. And, it’s often taboo.

Relational rejection.

There. I said it. That’s my biggest fear. Now it’s out there.

It’s ironic really.

Ironic because I love being completely open. Ironic because I love the freedom to be real…raw…and human. Ironic because I love seeing those traits in other people. Ironic because I’m one of the most obnoxiously relational beings I know.

Yet, somehow, this fear has forced me to hide a piece of my soul from the world. Even from my closest friends. Not because of any lack of trust. But truly out of fear. Fear that if they knew every ounce of my maniacal thought process and pervasive insecurities, they would no longer want anything to do with me.

Frankly, it’s been so well hidden in my life, that I’ve literally forgotten those things exist. I’ve gotten so comfortable with sharing my feelings, that I’ve forgotten there are “whys” behind those feelings. And, convinced myself that no one really wants to know those things anyway.

Wrong.

Way wrong.

The friends who do care about those “whys” have somehow found me. And, their deep love cracked that hard core of fear…a place in my life where I feel most vulnerable.

I let my fear of being alone and being vulnerable limit what my friends could be to me…limit the love I’d allow myself to receive from them. But, thank God for their persistence. For their love. For letting God use them to show me another layer of his own unfailing love and grace.

In close friendships, people don’t see vulnerabilities as signs of weakness or dark corners where no one wants to go.

These deep relationships seek vulnerabilities to embrace them.

Once my friends drew the vulnerabilities out of me, I was reminded that if they desired to get that close to me, than Jesus wanted it more. He doesn’t care about dark corners, because he is light…because he embodies perfect love…because his perfect love casts out fear. Even fear of relational rejection.

In the New Testament, Jesus refers to himself as our friend. I’m convinced he does that so we can capture glimpses in our lives today as to how he wants to operate in our lives. How we talk with him. How we laugh with him. How we cry with him. How we debate with him. And, yes, even what we share with him.

Those friends know who they are. And, I’m indebted to their compassion, loyalty and deep love. And, mostly, I’m thankful that God could use them to remind me of how much I’m loved for who I am. Right now. Despite the flaws, insecurities and fears I see in myself. Because He doesn’t even see them. He only sees beauty…vulnerable beauty.

“Knowing and letting oneself be known require overcoming many ancient fears – but it’s worth every risk.” – Arianna Huffington in “On Becoming Fearless”

I wrote something on Twitter Sunday night…it said:

Something I hate more than seeing people putting others into boxes…people putting themselves in boxes. You are unboxable.

I was talking to someone in particular when I said that. I was talking to myself. Reminding myself. Frustrated with myself for not seeing that I’d done it again.

I could pretend that the journey I’m on is all sunshine and rainbows. I mean, it’s about chasing after God’s call on my life…how could it not be all smiles?

Insert sarcasm here.

Don’t get me wrong. I know that I know that I know that the journey I’m on is the right one. But that path still has ditches. Muddy ones. The ones where you twist your ankle and fall and get all covered in grime. But they’re just that. Ditches. Not chasms. They’re nothing you can’t climb out of. Especially when you have help. But you need to know who can help you. You can call to your friends for help. But they can’t reach you. They can’t reach you because they’re on different paths. Unique paths for each one of them. They might be able to see you. But they can’t reach. They can only point you to the one who can reach you.

I’ve realized something…when things get scary, when I realize I need to be strong and crazy enough to be comfortable being me…a me that will never be found on someone else’s path…and that no one else has a path that looks like my own…I look for a box to jump in and hide…somewhere that limits where God can lead me. For the record, those confining boxes are found in ditches.

I knew I was in a ditch. And I was looking to people on paths of their own to try to help me out. Don’t get me wrong. They would have helped me get out if they could have reached me. Problem was, they couldn’t reach me. They were on their own paths. They were busy trying to navigate the twists, turns and ditches on their own paths.

I knew what I needed to get out of my ditch: seemingly simple encouragement. Someone to say I was heading in the right direction…someone to tell me that my talents were useful…someone to say it was OK that I wasn’t like other people…someone to tell me that there is a plan…someone to remind me to seek rest. But, despite the efforts of the amazing people in my life, it wasn’t enough. A couple of days ago, the reason became apparent as I was studying…

John 5:44 (The Voice translation):
…you are consumed by the approval of other men, longing to look good in their eyes, and yet you disregard the approval of the one true God.

Fancy that. Didn’t I feel like an idiot. At that very moment, I realized what was wrong. I was so busy running so fast that I wasn’t listening to all God had for me. You know how sometimes you hear the first few words of what someone is saying and then run with it without listening to the WHOLE thing? That’s what I was doing. And in doing that, I was not listening intently enough to God to hear his affirmation, his love and his encouragement. God was waiting right there with the grace I needed, but I was so busy crying for help that I failed to see his pierced hand in front of my face. He was waiting there, ready to pull me out of the box that was in the ditch and to embrace me, despite being a muddy mess.

For the record, I’m walking again, limping a little maybe, but I know I can walk off the pain with his help.

I can’t believe I’m the only one whose ever felt this. It’s a lonely feeling. But my question for you is: where are you looking for help? Even those closest to you can’t reach the depths of your heart that need to be reached. They’re on their own paths. All of them different and unique. So slow down so you can hear ALL God has for you. Listen. There’s good stuff in there. He is the only encouragement, love and grace with eyes penetrating enough to find you hiding in a box…and with a hand strong enough to pull you out of the mud.

I know how it feels to get wrapped up in all life is throwing at you. You know, the times when it feels like you don’t have time to care about anyone because you’re too busy focusing on everything you need to get done for you, your job, your home and your checklist that has nothing to do with real people. Since you’re too busy to breathe, they should just know you care without you saying anything, right? You really do care, but you just don’t have time to say so. Don’t deny it. I know I’m not alone on this one.

Last week, the tables turned on me.

My dad went into the hospital with kidney failure, pneumonia, emphysema, severe dehydration and a bad case of alcohol withdrawal. Wasn’t pretty. In fact, it was horrible.

One morning, I thought the dad I’d known all my life was no longer. He could barely speak. He didn’t know who I was. He couldn’t eat. His oxygen levels were crazy low. He was hallucinating. He didn’t even know what a straw was or how to suck on one. Doctors were talking feeding tubes, ventilators and nursing homes.

I felt very alone sitting next to him thinking about how alone he must have felt. Feeling as if there were only a handful of people who cared. I assumed people were thinking that his lifelong struggle with alcohol and smoking brought this on, and that it was just too bad. I just wanted someone to care about him as much as our family did. I just wanted someone to see the amazing man beneath all of the struggles. It was as if walking into that hospital room that morning sucked the life, joy and hope out of me. I just sat on my dad’s bed holding his hand and swallowing tears.

Until Muna, the cleaning lady came in…

Muna’s smile was one of the most peaceful and encouraging things I’ve ever seen. She asked about my dad and our family. She mentioned how good he must feel because she could see that he was loved. She said he was too young to not get better. She came in several more times that day, sometimes to work, and sometimes to check on our family. In moments when there were no words, Muna just smiled. Muna visited with all of us throughout the week. We learned about her family, about her jobs, her dedication to her children and, without her saying so, we learned how much she cared for people.

Muna’s visit was just the first encounter with undeserved compassion.

People proved my assumption (about people not caring about my dad) dead wrong. Thank God. Despite his downfalls (as all of us have), loving souls gave him grace and showed how much they cared.

Throughout the week, people our family hasn’t spent time with in 15 years showed up at the hospital to love on my dad. Well wishes poured in from all over the world, and even from people whom we barely knew. Amazing reliable friends checked in on my dad as if he was their own dad. The compassion brought out smiles from my dad that I hadn’t seen in 20 years. Real, genuine smiles.

The powerful thing about taking the time to care about people is that it strengthens their faith and gives them hope. After Muna left the room on that horrible morning, I felt better. I felt hopeful. I felt relieved.

Caring for others is powerful stuff. You might not have time to visit a hospital or make a meal for someone, but that’s OK. A few words go a long way. And when there are no words, a smile or hug makes all the difference…not just in the way a person feels, but in a person’s desire to keep going.

Three days after that horrible morning I described, Muna popped in as she always did. I introduced her to my dad. She just smiled and said, “he’ll be going home very soon.” She was right.

I’m pretty sure that our entire family never felt as cared about as we did that week. I’d really love to get in my dad’s head, I’m sure he’s still trying to process the Jesus-like compassion and grace people showed. The compassion gave all of us faith. Better yet, it gave dad faith. He’s home now…and committed to getting better.

We’ve all been placed in this particular place and time for a reason. Don’t miss out on the chance to be the “Muna” for someone else…be the one who cares…the selfless act doesn’t take much…and it can change an outlook on life. Literally.