According to Meyers-Briggs, I am an extrovert.
On paper this means that I converse easily with strangers and make connections easily.
In the eyes of the world, this means I have piles of friends and never have to worry about being lonely.
I have been, at times, annoyed by the increasing amount of articles expressing the needs and habits of introverts. There was something bugging me about the idea that they were the odd ones out in a world of "normal" people. However, after a conversation with a wonderful introvert who informed me that the internet is simply an easier platform to express the feeling, I began to see the pattern in every article:
I'm lonely. Please try to understand me.
I'm lonely. Please tell me I'm special.
I'm lonely. Please show me I'm worth something.
And that cry, in all its simple pain, is not reserved for one personality type.
Let me clear up a misconception: extroverts don't always have it easy either. I have struggled with loneliness in my own life. But it's not reserved to only me.
I would be willing to bet that every single person has felt lonely at some point in their life. And just at the moment you think you've found someone to cure that, the relationship changes, and it's difficult again. Why?
It would be so much easier to have other people exactly like ourselves, and then we could just be comfortable for the rest of our lives being exactly what we were 10 years ago and exactly what we'll be in 20 years.
But that's not how we were designed.
We were designed to complete each other, not just approve of each other. It's what makes us grow, what smooths out our rough edges. A little loneliness goes a long way in pushing us to pursue.
I used to be on the lookout for the person who would "get" me completely - share all my thoughts and opinions and understand all my moods and idiosyncrasies. Then I discovered this Proverb: "Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy."
While some may find that utterly depressing, I found it incredibly freeing. I didn't have to look for that person anymore, I didn't have to feel as if I was missing out on a friendship somewhere. No, I'm never going to find that person. Because they don't exist. Because if such a person existed, I would no longer be unique.
In essence, it's okay to feel lonely.
Because we all are.
No one is exempt from feeling like the odd one out, whether on the edge of the room all alone, or standing in the middle of a crowd surrounded by people who have no clue who the real you is.
We're all looking.
We all want to be loved.
We all need to be pursued.
But what if all this "understand how we're different" actually perpetuates the problem? Shouldn't we be focusing on where we're the same?
We all have a skeleton (or two) hanging in the closet.
We all want inside jokes and pizza night traditions and knowing looks.
Maybe loneliness is simply the first step, laying the path to begin that "Yeah, I know... me too" conversation with your future best friend five years from now.
We're made to be together.
But oddly, loneliness is often what gets us together in the first place.
And so it drives us to pursue others. To thrill when someone has an "aha" moment as we're explaining ourselves. To keep running after the other pieces of ourselves that are scattered across the globe, hidden in souls of all variety and ages. To not give up the dream of wholeness, but to instead pick up our battered hearts and say, "I will be vulnerable again."
Loneliness, in a way, is the only thing that keeps community alive.
Personality types are a wonderful way to get to know someone. But please, use it as a way to get to know someone, not as an excuse to think you already know them.
Maybe then we'll get the chance to turn all this loneliness into friendship.
Sunday, December 20, 2015
1 Corinthians 13
If I never get the opportunity to be a martyr, if I live a long and happy life in a comfortable and safe home, that doesn't make me a failure. Because I have God's love, and that is my identity.
If I never become well known for my spiritual insights, if I am not lauded for influencing millions, that's okay. Because loving God and loving others is just as important in the quiet as in the limelight.
If I don't see miraculous healing and inexplicable wonders after I pray, I'm not less of a Christian. Because God loves me from His own goodness, not my performance.
To perform a single action because love could no longer be contained inside is worlds better than a million actions performed out of duty.
Because love...
Well, love has a good attitude even when there's no guarantee someone will change.
Love isn't always assuming the grass is greener on the other side; but she also doesn't crow about it when the grass is greener on her side.
Love isn't so concerned with appearances that she reveals uncomfortable truths in front of others just to save face.
You can't rile love up by snide remarks and petty insults, she's not looking for a fight. And at the end of the day, she wipes the slate clean - no ammunition for tomorrow's disagreements.
Love doesn't enjoy the pain of others, and neither is she looking for easier ways to just avoid the issue. No, love wants to get to the heart of the matter so we can be whole instead of bandaged but bleeding.
Love listens when someone is hurting, takes the time to put aside quick assumptions and truly hear; is always in your corner, confident that you'll succeed, not even giving the time of day to disillusionment and unmet expectations; and never turns the cold shoulder, no matter how tempting it is to run away emotionally.
Love is in this for the beautiful long haul.
Everything else is just a piece of the picture. Love is everything from the canvas to the artist's hand.
Essentially, love is about growing up. And as I get older, I'm finally realizing that it knits everything together, from our first infant steps to our dying breath.
I don't fully understand it yet, but I'm beginning to get little glimpses.
Faith gives me eyes.
Hope keeps me standing.
But love... must be described with more than words.
~ A personal reflection on 1 Corinthians 13
If I never become well known for my spiritual insights, if I am not lauded for influencing millions, that's okay. Because loving God and loving others is just as important in the quiet as in the limelight.
If I don't see miraculous healing and inexplicable wonders after I pray, I'm not less of a Christian. Because God loves me from His own goodness, not my performance.
To perform a single action because love could no longer be contained inside is worlds better than a million actions performed out of duty.
Because love...
Well, love has a good attitude even when there's no guarantee someone will change.
Love isn't always assuming the grass is greener on the other side; but she also doesn't crow about it when the grass is greener on her side.
Love isn't so concerned with appearances that she reveals uncomfortable truths in front of others just to save face.
You can't rile love up by snide remarks and petty insults, she's not looking for a fight. And at the end of the day, she wipes the slate clean - no ammunition for tomorrow's disagreements.
Love doesn't enjoy the pain of others, and neither is she looking for easier ways to just avoid the issue. No, love wants to get to the heart of the matter so we can be whole instead of bandaged but bleeding.
Love listens when someone is hurting, takes the time to put aside quick assumptions and truly hear; is always in your corner, confident that you'll succeed, not even giving the time of day to disillusionment and unmet expectations; and never turns the cold shoulder, no matter how tempting it is to run away emotionally.
Love is in this for the beautiful long haul.
Everything else is just a piece of the picture. Love is everything from the canvas to the artist's hand.
Essentially, love is about growing up. And as I get older, I'm finally realizing that it knits everything together, from our first infant steps to our dying breath.
I don't fully understand it yet, but I'm beginning to get little glimpses.
Faith gives me eyes.
Hope keeps me standing.
But love... must be described with more than words.
~ A personal reflection on 1 Corinthians 13
Monday, May 18, 2015
I Took a Picture Tonight
I took a picture tonight.
It's not artistic.
It's not pretty.
It's actually a terrible picture.
But I love it.
It's a picture of our couch.
Just our couch, sitting at the far end of our house, dimly lit and cluttered with a few pillows and one large tie blanket.
That view...
That view alone is nothing without the feelings and intangibles which I know surround it.
The clock ticking.
The quiet hum of the appliances.
The low light.
The settled, quiet feeling in my core.
That view is what I see after our communion nights are done.
The dishes have been brought to the kitchen.
The chairs slid back into their places.
Everyone else is in bed as I finish my labor of love.
And when it's finished, I take one final look back through the house to make sure I haven't missed anything.
And that is my view.
Just our couch, sitting at the far end of our house, dimly lit and cluttered with a few pillows and one large tie blanket.
No, I haven't missed anything.
When I see that view, I'm thinking about the people who just filled that couch from end to end. I'm thinking of the honest hearts and hopeful lives that utterly consume the currently empty spaces in front of my eyes. I'm feeling the peace that settles after being joined in earnest prayer. I'm hearing the calm of a house that has no fear of being alone. I'm recalling the array of Bibles and journals and notepads and laptops and phones and minds that soaked up and overflowed and contemplated and questioned and discovered and journeyed together to find purpose and direction and confirmation on that very floor.
I am blessed.
So radically blessed.
I know that not all people get attached to places, to things.
But I do.
Views. Sights. Smells.
They're mile markers.
The distance will be covered regardless, but little markers along the way remind me of where I'm going and what a beautiful road it's going to be.
This is one of those.
My mind is choosing to remember this oh-so-simple view, because wrapped up in it is the peace in my belly that is so incredibly fierce it almost overwhelms me with how expansive it is.
To use a cliche, my heart is full every time I see this view.
To be less cliche, my soul is trying to figure out what it is that's going on here... because I need to be able to carry it with me. That dimly lit couch needs to translate someday.
For now, it's perfect the way it is.
It's not artistic.
It's not pretty.
It's actually a terrible picture.
But I love it.
It's a picture of our couch.
Just our couch, sitting at the far end of our house, dimly lit and cluttered with a few pillows and one large tie blanket.
That view...
That view alone is nothing without the feelings and intangibles which I know surround it.
The clock ticking.
The quiet hum of the appliances.
The low light.
The settled, quiet feeling in my core.
That view is what I see after our communion nights are done.
The dishes have been brought to the kitchen.
The chairs slid back into their places.
Everyone else is in bed as I finish my labor of love.
And when it's finished, I take one final look back through the house to make sure I haven't missed anything.
And that is my view.
Just our couch, sitting at the far end of our house, dimly lit and cluttered with a few pillows and one large tie blanket.
No, I haven't missed anything.
When I see that view, I'm thinking about the people who just filled that couch from end to end. I'm thinking of the honest hearts and hopeful lives that utterly consume the currently empty spaces in front of my eyes. I'm feeling the peace that settles after being joined in earnest prayer. I'm hearing the calm of a house that has no fear of being alone. I'm recalling the array of Bibles and journals and notepads and laptops and phones and minds that soaked up and overflowed and contemplated and questioned and discovered and journeyed together to find purpose and direction and confirmation on that very floor.
I am blessed.
So radically blessed.
I know that not all people get attached to places, to things.
But I do.
Views. Sights. Smells.
They're mile markers.
The distance will be covered regardless, but little markers along the way remind me of where I'm going and what a beautiful road it's going to be.
This is one of those.
My mind is choosing to remember this oh-so-simple view, because wrapped up in it is the peace in my belly that is so incredibly fierce it almost overwhelms me with how expansive it is.
To use a cliche, my heart is full every time I see this view.
To be less cliche, my soul is trying to figure out what it is that's going on here... because I need to be able to carry it with me. That dimly lit couch needs to translate someday.
For now, it's perfect the way it is.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Is it Love?
"What you call 'love' isn’t actually love."
I have heard several times over the years that the love you have as a young person, especially young married people, is not actually love. Saying “I love you” actually means “I lust after you.” Saying “I love you” actually means “I love the way you make me feel.” Saying “I love you” just means “I need you.” It’s a feeling. It’s an emotion. It’s not the real thing.
I’m here to argue that it is the real thing.
Yep, you heard me right.
That is love. It’s just young love.
Would you tell me that a kitten is not a cat? Would you tell me that a seed is not a tree? Would you tell me that the baby growing in a mother’s womb is not the next world-changer?
Well, maybe not yet. But the powerful paws of a lynx are present in the tiny ball of fur still mewing for attention. The height and majesty of a mighty redwood simply need time and water to emerge from that tiny seed. The healing hands and gentle heart of a physician simply need to be nurtured and cared for to mature from the toddling child.
Young love is still love.
If it wasn’t, how could it ever grow to be “real” love?
Will I tell my child, “No, you don’t actually love me. Love is a verb. Love is an action. Love is commitment even when you don’t feel like it,” when he pauses in the middle of tossing a ball to remind me of his affection?
Will I tell my husband, “No, you just like the way I make you feel. If you really loved me, you would sacrifice more for me,” when he puts his arms around me when he knows I’m upset with him?
Would Jesus tell the repentant sinner, “No, you don’t love me, you’re still sinful and immature and need a few more years to realize just how much I’ve done for you,” when she pours out her wounded heart to Him?
No.
This is love. It’s just young love.
It’s growing. Yes, I will grant you, it is still growing and has a lot of growing up still left to do.
But don’t tell me it’s not love.
Don’t tell me this passionate, crazy, emotional, love-you/hate-you, can’t-control-it, stumbling, eager, desperate, needy, confused-and-yet-still-so-sure feeling isn’t love. Because it is.
When my passionate, intense, wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve object of desire asked me to be his wife, I tried not to be too silly about it.
I tried to maintain composure. Not be socially awkward. Keep my cool.
Because I had heard so many mature adults look down on young love. The rolled eyes. The knowing looks. The “give it a few months” comments. The dissension over emotions that couldn’t be controlled.
And so, I purposed to not be like them. I was going to be mature. I was going to have this “real love” business right from the start.
What a bunch of crap.
The problem is, you can’t have “real love” from the start. You can’t have a chicken without the egg. Come on.
So instead of enjoying the “not real love” kind of love, I stifled it. Tried to act like I was more mature than that. And didn’t really succeed at that either. (Chicken before the egg problem, remember?) And by extension, I didn’t succeed at the emotions or the maturity, just did a belly flop somewhere in the middle.
Ouch.
(a pause, a reflection)
I like going to weddings.
I like seeing silly, ridiculous love.
Because it reminds me that the love I am developing now (yes, it’s love!) shouldn’t just be an action. It should be an action. But it shouldn’t be just an action.
Love is not limited to one dimension.
Love is friendship.
Love is commitment.
Love is passion.
Love is unconditional even when conditions are set against it.
Love is an action, but that action is filled with all the depth and beauty of life-long passion. One of my favorite quotes from Mike Bickle: Lovers will out-work servants every day.
There are times in a marriage covenant to serve and stick it out and push through. But that shouldn’t be the be-all, end-all litmus test for true love. True love is intense. It is sold-out to the point of insanity.
Love isn’t giving everything there is to give, love is giving everything you have to give.
So to all you lovebirds, to all you crazy and emotional people out there, what you have is love. That is not an invitation to be frivolous or flippant with it. No, quite the contrary; if you know that what you have in your hands and heart is the precious seed of age-old selflessness, you treat it with incredible care.
Recognizing feelings as love does not give further license to throw love away, instead it fosters awe and respect for the insurmountable potential our newly developed feelings can have.
This is love. So treat it with care.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
I Was "That" Person
Have you ever been at a party where "that" person was in attendance? "That" person is usually saying awkward things, making people feel uncomfortable, just doesn't quite fit in, and makes the rest of the party wish "that" person wasn't there.
But if you have been at a party with "that" person, you may have also witnessed an incredible host. The host doesn't make fun of "that" person, they never insult them, they are always and forever gracious. Even if the host is beginning to wish "that" person had never been invited, they will never show that feeling; the gracious host will be kind and considerate to the end. It's what makes them a great host.
My name means "God is Gracious."
And for most of my life, for some unknown reason, I considered God to be like that host.
Because I considered myself to be "that" person.
Grace means unmerited favor. Heavily accent the unmerited and you have my mind's definition pretty much summed up.
It was not difficult at all to imagine God above looking at me and thinking, "There she goes again... saying something she shouldn't," or, "Sigh. You'd think she would catch on quicker." But of course He would never criticize, because He is an incredibly gracious God.
Essentially, God is a nice guy, which is the only reason He puts up with me.
And I tried to remain as good as possible so I didn't bother Him with my issues, because He was already being really nice by saving my undeserving self from my sins. Of course, that didn't really work, being I also loved Him and wanted to have an honest relationship, which left me feeling pesky and petulant most of the time.
Then I was given a not-so-complicated, but very impacting, revelation: the word that is translated as grace in the New Testament is closest to the word for favor in the Old Testament.
Favor. It had been in the meaning all along, and yet I had never separated it from being unmerited. Favor.
Now that word has much different connotations for me. A favor is something good. A favor is something kind. Being favorable is being worthy of being wanted. Being favored is being liked, not just tolerated. Favorites receive the firsts, not just the scraps.
Since that simple yet profound revelation, I have been the keenly-aware recipient of immeasurable favor from God:
Anonymous gifts.
Blessings from unexpected places.
Circumstances lining up too well to be simple coincidence.
Prayers answered that I had forgotten I even prayed until after they were answered.
In short, being given preferential treatment even though I had done nothing to earn it.
Favor.
I know this is not the main definition of the word favor, but favor brings to mind the situation where a part of your body is injured and you favor that injured area. You favor it. It is always first in your mind. You change the way you do everyday tasks, such as walking, talking, picking things up, or sitting down. It is always and ever your priority. You are mindful of how to be gentle and kind with it.
Is it possible that God favors me in that way? That I am first in His mind? That He would go out of His way to make sure I am taken care of? Now that is a radically different way to view God's grace to me. And having my view on God's opinion of me radically changed also changes the way I view myself.
My name also means "God's Gift." I'm finally understanding how "gracious" and "gift" go together by seeing my name as "God is unreasonably favorable toward me." Because He is. But I'm learning to happily accept that.
There is a C. S. Lewis quote I love: "Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less."
Thinking of myself poorly is no way to live my own life, but it's also no way to live life with others. If I'm supposed to think of others as better than myself, and I think of myself as pathetic, then the best status others in my life are getting is "slightly better than pathetic." What? What a rip-off. How about I see myself as a co-heir with Christ and begin treating others as "even better co-heirs or future co-heirs!"
Perpetually demeaning myself doesn't make me more humble. In fact, it probably makes me prouder because I spend all my time focusing on myself, looking at myself, comparing myself, measuring myself. Instead, humility comes from being so peaceful in my identity that I don't need to think about it anymore.
I was attempting to wrap my mind around God's goodness by putting Him at my highest concept of good, and placing myself the appropriate distance away from that goodness. Instead, I need to stop paying so much attention to where I am and put God WAY HIGHER than I can even imagine. He doesn't fit inside my concepts of good, gracious, and loving. He completely blows them out of the water. And He directs that goodness toward me.
"Every generous act and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights; with Him there is no variation or shadow cast by turning. By His own choice, He gave us a new birth by the message of truth so that we would be the firstfruits of His creatures." James 1:17-18
"I pray that you, being rooted and firmly established in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the length and width, height and depth of God's love, and to know the Messiah's love that surpasses knowledge, so you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do above and beyond all that we ask or think according to the power that works in us - to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen."
Ephesians 3:17b-21
"For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority." Colossians 2:9-10
But if you have been at a party with "that" person, you may have also witnessed an incredible host. The host doesn't make fun of "that" person, they never insult them, they are always and forever gracious. Even if the host is beginning to wish "that" person had never been invited, they will never show that feeling; the gracious host will be kind and considerate to the end. It's what makes them a great host.
My name means "God is Gracious."
And for most of my life, for some unknown reason, I considered God to be like that host.
Because I considered myself to be "that" person.
Grace means unmerited favor. Heavily accent the unmerited and you have my mind's definition pretty much summed up.
It was not difficult at all to imagine God above looking at me and thinking, "There she goes again... saying something she shouldn't," or, "Sigh. You'd think she would catch on quicker." But of course He would never criticize, because He is an incredibly gracious God.
Essentially, God is a nice guy, which is the only reason He puts up with me.
And I tried to remain as good as possible so I didn't bother Him with my issues, because He was already being really nice by saving my undeserving self from my sins. Of course, that didn't really work, being I also loved Him and wanted to have an honest relationship, which left me feeling pesky and petulant most of the time.
Then I was given a not-so-complicated, but very impacting, revelation: the word that is translated as grace in the New Testament is closest to the word for favor in the Old Testament.
Favor. It had been in the meaning all along, and yet I had never separated it from being unmerited. Favor.
Now that word has much different connotations for me. A favor is something good. A favor is something kind. Being favorable is being worthy of being wanted. Being favored is being liked, not just tolerated. Favorites receive the firsts, not just the scraps.
Since that simple yet profound revelation, I have been the keenly-aware recipient of immeasurable favor from God:
Anonymous gifts.
Blessings from unexpected places.
Circumstances lining up too well to be simple coincidence.
Prayers answered that I had forgotten I even prayed until after they were answered.
In short, being given preferential treatment even though I had done nothing to earn it.
Favor.
I know this is not the main definition of the word favor, but favor brings to mind the situation where a part of your body is injured and you favor that injured area. You favor it. It is always first in your mind. You change the way you do everyday tasks, such as walking, talking, picking things up, or sitting down. It is always and ever your priority. You are mindful of how to be gentle and kind with it.
Is it possible that God favors me in that way? That I am first in His mind? That He would go out of His way to make sure I am taken care of? Now that is a radically different way to view God's grace to me. And having my view on God's opinion of me radically changed also changes the way I view myself.
My name also means "God's Gift." I'm finally understanding how "gracious" and "gift" go together by seeing my name as "God is unreasonably favorable toward me." Because He is. But I'm learning to happily accept that.
There is a C. S. Lewis quote I love: "Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less."
Thinking of myself poorly is no way to live my own life, but it's also no way to live life with others. If I'm supposed to think of others as better than myself, and I think of myself as pathetic, then the best status others in my life are getting is "slightly better than pathetic." What? What a rip-off. How about I see myself as a co-heir with Christ and begin treating others as "even better co-heirs or future co-heirs!"
Perpetually demeaning myself doesn't make me more humble. In fact, it probably makes me prouder because I spend all my time focusing on myself, looking at myself, comparing myself, measuring myself. Instead, humility comes from being so peaceful in my identity that I don't need to think about it anymore.
I was attempting to wrap my mind around God's goodness by putting Him at my highest concept of good, and placing myself the appropriate distance away from that goodness. Instead, I need to stop paying so much attention to where I am and put God WAY HIGHER than I can even imagine. He doesn't fit inside my concepts of good, gracious, and loving. He completely blows them out of the water. And He directs that goodness toward me.
"Every generous act and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights; with Him there is no variation or shadow cast by turning. By His own choice, He gave us a new birth by the message of truth so that we would be the firstfruits of His creatures." James 1:17-18
"I pray that you, being rooted and firmly established in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the length and width, height and depth of God's love, and to know the Messiah's love that surpasses knowledge, so you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do above and beyond all that we ask or think according to the power that works in us - to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen."
Ephesians 3:17b-21
"For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority." Colossians 2:9-10
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