No Pretty Bows

*Dusts off blog. Clears throat.*

This year has been a trip. I can’t begin to address all that has happened in one post, so I won’t try. But I’ve been seeing many things so much more clearly lately, and I wanted to share something I saw today.

I have this group of friends I meet with. They’re like my lifeline. (I never realized how much I needed safe people until I had them. Get yourself some. ) In candid conversations with them I realized that for years I’ve avoided facing my feelings. When it became clear I’d need to cut that out, I was afraid. I likened facing my feelings to voluntarily falling into a deep pit. I avoided the pit with vigor. I saw myself in the mouth of the pit, arms and legs stretched out, fingers and toes clenching dirt and roots to avoid the dark bottom. Pitfall prevention.

Eventually I chose to willingly go in. It was sort of like the dark tunnel. Scared as I was, I knew somehow God would be waiting for me there.

It’s been about a month since I made that decision, and I find I’m in a better place than I’ve been in years. Oddly, falling in wasn’t as grueling or horrible or dark as I thought it would be, and today I wondered why. The answer floated to the surface like one of those magic eight ball thingies.

I’d already fallen in a long time ago. I’d been at the bottom of the pit all this time.

And realizing I was in a pit gave me the resources to get out. So … lately I’ve been climbing out of the pit, not falling into it. The more I climb, the more light there is. The easier it is to breathe.

I could summarize with some super spiritual, super deep conclusion for you here, but I feel that tying a pretty bow on this would diminish it. So [draw your conclusions and insert them here].

Fired up again.

I started to change my Song Lyric of the Day, but I couldn’t. It still applies. So I just added another lyric, for a Frankly Speaking first: Lines from two different songs in one widget! (I know, the excitement could overwhelm you if you’re not careful.)

I’m so sick of ordinary, crappy, everyday life. I’m feeling fired up today–I want to effect change in the parts of the world over which I have influence. I’ve never wanted to be one of those people who complain about the status quo, but won’t do anything to make things better. In my heart I’ve been a complainer lately, a status-quo-er. I’m sick of it.

I THRIVE on structure, and order, and organization. I WILT in chaos, and I find disarray mentally taxing, physically draining. This is the way God wired me, and I can’t ignore it or change it.

I look around me and everything’s a mess. I’ve become this wilted, drained person. It’s like poison to my soul, and I’ve been sitting around dying of poisoning. Either I have to get rid of it, or get away from it. So I have to confront the disarray in every area of my life.

I’m scared for a couple reasons.

1. I’m scared because I know how I am. It’s easy for me to get discouraged–I start down a path all by myself, and when no one comes alongside me, I begin to fade. The next thing I know I’ve quit. I’m worried about this because I believe that when I take this step, I won’t have anyone who’ll say to me, “Keep going! You can do it!” I’m not pessimistic, I’m realistic: I’m surrounded by people who seem perfectly content to stay in this mess. So I’m going to have to keep myself inspired. I have to. Stay inspired, or wither and die.

2. I’m scared because the disarray doesn’t affect just me; this means cleaning it up won’t affect just me either. As I said, I’m surrounded by people who seem perfectly content to stay in the mess. Is there anyone in history who has come into a situation where everyone was perfectly content, stirred things up, and then everyone was like, “Wow, I’m so glad you came! I see I need to change, and I’ll do it right now!” These people I speak of are people I love and care about. Their good opinion of me, their love for me, is valuable to me. I’m afraid they’ll reject me.

3. I’m scared because … is it right for me to expect others to change? Am I being a control-freak? Am I expecting people to be like me? Is this about me, or is it about them too?I tell myself this will be good for us all, and I do believe that … but what if they don’t see it that way? What if I’m selfish?

So I’m going to pray, and I’m going to do it. I think. I want to. I’m determined to.

Please God, let my motives be pure, and if they’re not, tell me what to do and how to do it. Please be with me! Please help me to see this through. Please let me be wrong that no one will come alongside me. Father, help me!

Un-encouragement

So maybe you didn’t know I’ve been sort of discouraged lately. (Understatement.) More to the point, I’ve been sad, depressed, angry, cynical, resigned, bored, confused and exhausted. I wrote a little about it in another post called “She’s Come Undone.” (That was just the tip of the iceberg.)

Yesterday I had lunch with a friend, and I walked away from it encouraged. Later I wondered why other friends had tried to encourage me, but it wasn’t nearly as effective as a 30-minute lunch conversation. The more I thought about it, the more I recognized some traits. I call these traits “un-encouragement,” because they undermine true efforts to encourage. See if you can relate.

Disclaimer: I’ve been guilty of these same tactics, so I’m not passing judgment! I love and value my friends, and I know their intentions are pure.

UN-ENCOURAGEMENT 1: You’re a Liar

Sometimes when we’re sad or upset or whatever, a loving and well-meaning friend will tell us all the reasons we shouldn’t be. You might say, “I suck as a Christian and as a human being in general.” And your friend might fiercely object. “What?! That’s ridiculous! You are the kindest, most generous person I know!” The result: Now, in addition to feeling as if you suck, you also feel more lonely and misunderstood than ever. After all, you know you suck. You know the ugly, dark thoughts in your heart. When your friend objects, it just shows how your friend doesn’t know you … how no one knows you. It also makes you feel your friend doesn’t believe you. If you honestly share your feelings, and your friend responds by basically calling you a liar … well, you do the math.

UN-ENCOURAGEMENT 2: You’re a Bad Christian

Sometimes when we’re sad or upset or whatever, a loving and well-meaning friend will direct us to scripture. You might say, “I feel like God’s so far away from me right now.” And your friend might respond, “What? That’s ridiculous. Haven’t you read that God will never leave you? Listen, read Deuteronomy 31 tonight. And read the book of John. Yes, the entire book, because God’s love is written all over it.” The result: Now you feel like an even worse Christian than you did five minutes ago. You already know what the Bible says! Reading the scriptures isn’t going to help! … Wait a second … shouldn’t it help? Maybe your faith is too shallow to let the scripture “drop from your head to your heart.” Maybe God really has abandoned you! Et cetera.

These forms of unencouragement cause many people to keep their feelings to themselves. We don’t want pat answers and easy 3-step solutions, because these things are useless and condescending. So we close in on ourselves, and our situations seem increasingly impossible and hopeless. Who knows how that will end?

REAL ENCOURAGEMENT

In my opinion, real encouragement involves listening and sharing. It’s saying to a friend, “I’ve been there.” Or if you haven’t, it’s being honest about it rather than behaving as if you’re dripping with answers. I’ve found that when people are able to honestly relate what they’re feeling (and unencouragement is avoided at all costs), God’s really able to get His foot in the door. (You must also be determined not to have a pity party.) You begin to dialog about your thoughts and experiences, and somehow, amazingly, you begin to remember God’s character–as revealed not only in the Bible, but in your own life. It’s like your soul shakes off its amnesia and you begin to remember how good He is, how kind and loving He’s been. You remember the lessons He taught you before, and you recognize how they’re still applicable to this situation today. You wind up encouraging one another.

It’s also helpful to talk because nine times out of ten (I don’t have any research to back up those statistics) you realize you’re not alone. Your friend has either gone through it before, or is going through it right now. For some reason it helps to know you’re not the only Christian on the planet who has doubted God’s decision to choose you as His own.

On My Mind.

I’ve had a lot of stuff on my mind lately. I’ve wanted to blog about it, but I wouldn’t know where to start or how to finish. So I’ll just give y’all the highlights.

1. In my “On Music” page, I wrote about how I struggle with vanity. I ended my essay with a scripture from Romans. But I recently learned something that showed me I’d totally missed it. Not everything, just the last part about how I’ll always struggle. I was wrong. I’m glad God is gracious! I’ll be rewriting that soon.
2. I finally admitted to myself that I don’t like someone. It was a relief to admit it to myself, because I’ve finally put my finger on that niggling in the back of my brain.
3. Now that I know I don’t like this person, I’m not sure what to do with it. What are my responsibilities here? Can I separate my dislike from the way I treat this person? I must. I refuse to be anything but entirely gracious and kind–without being fake. I can do it: I’ve been mostly doing it up to now, I just didn’t realize it because I didn’t know I didn’t like this person until this week. 
4. I missed Unite the other day because I was getting my hair braided. (Dang it!) Are my priorities wrong? No … it just took longer than I thought, and you can’t walk out of a salon with one tuft of unbraided hair. Well, you can, but then you have to reschedule for the rest, and what if that costs extra? (Micro-braids are expensive.) And what if they have no openings for two weeks? Then either I look like a unicorn for two weeks, or I have the black woman’s equivalent of a comb-over. Both options are scary.
5. Should I watch fewer movies? I flipping love movies. I probably watch about 5-7 movies a week (old and new). Is that a lot? (Sigh. I already know the answer.) Can you love Jesus and watch 7+ movies a week?
6. More to the point, where’s the “line” with movies? I used to draw the line at rated R, but there are really good movies that are rated R. There are really bad movies that are rated PG-13. I have left movies (or shut them off) because I (think I) am mature enough to gauge which movies are right for me to watch and which aren’t. I know when the line has been crossed.
7. Or do I? What if the line is moving backwards a little more every day, and I’m not noticing it? Newman!
8. I love my husband. Many have been reading my Exhuming My Talent series, and they probably think I hate him. I used to (hey, just being honest). But God does miracles. I believe that. I’ve seen it. He resurrected my marriage from hell. And today, I love my husband so much it’s kinda weird. (I’ll conclude that series soon. It takes a lot out of me to write each article.)

Yeah. That’s enough for now.