Chasing After Me

Me:     Who is this person?
God:     The person I envisioned long ago.
Me:     I’m incapable of all of this.
God:     You’re right. But that’s why I’m working through you.

…that’s why I’m working through you. The past two months of my life have been fascinating. Mind-boggling. Overwhelming. Exciting. Exhausting. And, mostly humbling.

What I’ve learned is that when you’re willing to give your life away, your life changes. Dramatically. Be careful when you ask God what is next and are willing to listen to him. You’ll find yourself acting crazy…leaping out with a faith you never knew existed. You’ll quickly realize how completely inadequate you really are.

Your life will get messed up. In a good way. In an unfathomable way. In a way that makes you feel smaller than you’ve ever felt.

It reminds me of (Simon) Peter, Jesus’ disciple. He was a fisherman. After watching Jesus speak to multitudes and performing a fishing miracle with his buddies, Peter felt wholly insufficient to even be in his presence. In fact, he actually asked Jesus to leave because he couldn’t see himself as worthy of being around this amazing man.

But Jesus didn’t care about how Peter saw himself. He only could see the person envisioned long ago…by someone a lot bigger than Peter. Jesus didn’t even listen to Peter’s request to leave. Instead, Jesus told him he needed him. Needed him to be a fisher of men.

Can you imagine how Peter felt? He wasn’t qualified! He was probably thinking…seriously…I fish for a living. I’m screwed up. I literally stink of dead fish! But Jesus didn’t care! In fact, Peter’s life wouldn’t be perfect…he would go on to have moments of unbelief and would even deny Jesus before his crucifixion… Jesus knew that would happen…but Jesus didn’t care. HE NEEDED PETER.

If Jesus needed Peter the fisherman, he needs you. He needs me. He needs us to be willing to listen to him and be the person he created us to be. All different. But all with a purpose. Peter went on to share the story of Jesus because he let Jesus work through him. A fisherman. Seriously. Can you imagine how inadequate Peter felt throughout his whole life?!

I was sitting with some pastors in St. Paul a few weeks ago…one of them shared a powerful nugget of wisdom…they’d studied all of the great leaders in the bible because they were so diverse…wanting to know what the one commonality was…the answer? They all had a healthy dose of inadequacy.

Check the dictionary. Inadequacy is about not being sufficient. And, I am not sufficient. None of us are. But HIS grace is sufficient. Inadequacy reminds us we will never be good enough. Will never be smart enough. Will never be capable. Will never be eloquent enough. By submitting your life to a greater being and a greater calling, all of the gaps are filled.

God:      If your life isn’t a testimony, then what is it?
Me:     Seriously, my story is not that interesting.
God:     Really? Have you tried sharing it? Maybe you shouldn’t be the judge of that.
Me:     I can’t do this.
God:     No you can’t. But I can. Thank you for trusting me.

I love getting new clothes. Especially the clothes I get from my hubby.

They’re edgier and sassier than what I’d pick out for myself.

And then I try them on.

I usually love the way they look, but am nervously uncomfortable with them because they’re a little different from what I’m used to.

Yep. That’s me right now. Metaphorically, of course (although I can always go for a trip to Ann Taylor Loft…I’m just sayin’!).

My life changed in February, and I’m still trying to get comfortable. It’s not a bad thing. At all. It’s just so different that I’m still uneasy in my new attire.

I left my cushy corporate job to pursue me. I started my own business. I joined friends in planting a church. I’ve become addicted to chasing after the person that I believe I’m supposed to be, instead of the person everyone expects me to be. Sounds brave in the moment. Until I bend over and realize that my butt crack shows in the new pants. Doh! (Don’t even try to pretend like this has never happened to you…especially the ladies…).

In moments, I honestly feel like I know absolutely nothing. In moments, I feel like I have nothing to offer. In moments, I wonder what the heck I got myself into and wonder if I can really do this.

I feel exposed.

Reminds me of the new outfits from hubby…I may need to wear a belt or find a longer shirt, but I can make them work. In fact they usually start to fit better over time. Even perfect. I get comfortable. No more butt crack and no longer exposed because I’ve adjusted a few things to make it work. In the end (no pun intended), those outfits from hubby usually end up being my favorite clothes…and the ones that give me the most confidence.

The truth is though…I’m not there yet. The clothes fit, but they’re different. Pretty soon I’ll get used to them and shake the self-consciousness. Simply knowing it’s a time of adjustment helps a lot.

Until God buys me new clothes again. That’s right, no clothes stay in style forever. Dang.

It’s OK though, because I’ll never find the perfect outfit for the perfect event unless I try things on and give them a go. I’ll get comfortable. I’ll shake the anxiousness. And if I need to adjust, I’ll fix it along the way. Because, really, who knows what will be in style next year anyway…

I never fit in. Not as a child. Not in school. Not now. I don’t think I’m super awkward or geeky (although some may argue that)…I’ve just never fit into anyone’s box.

For years that made me crazy. I tried fitting into ready-made boxes that I thought everyone else fit into…you know, the popular box, the intellectual box, the achiever box, the flirty-cutsie box, the political box, the sensitive and emotional box, the homemaker box, the focused professional box…nothing fit (actually, I could write an entire post on each of those boxes and why I don’t fit).

In my quest to fit into others’ boxes, I realize now I was trying to fit into what I thought were their perfections. For years, I tried to be perfect. I don’t know who I was fooling in trying to fit all these crazy molds. I morphed from unsuccessful perfection to unsuccessful perfection for different audiences. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t faking perfection…I was honestly trying to be perfect…for everyone…including myself (because then I’d fit perfectly in a box).

What the heck?! Talk about stressful! Behind closed doors I would break down under the pressure of perfection, and usually those who loved me most suffered from those breakdowns. (God bless my husband for loving me in spite of that.) I’d explode in anger, or hide in my bed in a sort of mini-depression and cry, or simply sleep for hours.

People, perfection is unhealthy!

Then it hit me. Hard. In an I-think-I-might-puke sort of way. I realized that if my life isn’t a testimony of God’s grace, then I was dissing all He made me to be. NEWS FLASH: perfection doesn’t show God’s love, it’s His love of imperfection that shows God’s true colors. I was being everything God didn’t want me to be.

Why doesn’t anyone teach us that when we’re young? In school we try to get As and be first in everything. We strive for perfection instead of understanding what we have to give to the world, and to other people.

Thirty-three years later, I’m finally starting to get it. It’s been a journey of self-discovery that’s helping me define who I am. Who I am to myself. Who I am to my husband. Who I am to my family. Who I am to my friends. Most importantly, who I am to God.

Revealing my whole self and my whole story refreshed and freed me. It also taught me to appreciate un-boxable traits and hate labels. As soon as I feel someone trying to put me in a box, I kick my way out. As soon as I see others getting boxed in, I want to help them escape. Boxes are confining and force us to fit into someone else’s definition of perfection or label of imperfection.

I’m human, imperfect and unique. And I’m finally OK with that. Even better, I’ve learned valuable lessons along the way:

First: Everything in my past is part of who I am today. Good and bad. I had a hard time with this one. I always wanted to hide things I thought were stupid, embarrassing or too personal. The thing is, the stupid, embarrassing and “too personal” things make me more me than the great things that have landed in my lap. In those moments, I’ve learned about my values, my vulnerabilities and the contents of my heart. Even better, it’s helped me connect to others in deeper and more meaningful ways.

Second: Life is too short to be different things to different people. I had to make a conscious decision to be all of who I am in every moment of life. My Facebook and Twitter friends are great examples: best friends, acquaintances, former co-workers, PR/communications professionals, old friends, authors, techies and Jesus followers. At one time, I didn’t really want any of my boxes to mingle. Talk about not living fully, not being fulfilled…and not living in the fullness I was created to live in! Who cares if I offend my PR/Communications peeps when I talk about God? Who cares if someone decides they don’t want to hear what I have to say if I go on a rampage describing all of the food I’m making? Who cares?! Others don’t need me to be a certain way. God needs me to be the way he made me…it’s better for everyone. And I know there is a purpose.

Third (and most important): Love. Period. Boxes and labels bring judgment (to me and to others). I’ve taught myself to be compulsive about finding something I appreciate about as many people as I can. Sure, people irritate me (in some cases, they infuriate me). But if I can find something, anything, to value in them, then I understand more of them…that one thing helps me see how human they are and helps me love them. If I judge them instead of love them, then I’ve labeled them and put them in a box. I’ve learned a lot about appreciating very diverse perspectives by doing this. God made each of us unlike any other. Embrace it and love it. Judgment is selfish. Love is selfless.

This crazy journey of self-discovery and taking myself (and others) out of boxes wasn’t about self-confidence or about feeding my pride. It’s helped me be OK with my imperfect self and open my eyes to God’s direction for my life.

I don’t have all of this figured out yet, not sure I ever will. But, what I do know is that I’m no longer jumping from box to box. I picture myself walking all over them – smashing the boxes and kicking them out of the way – and it’s sort of fun.