I started this blog yesterday, when I was under pressure to get to my job training. With one eye on the clock I finally had to set it aside, realizing that by doing so it would probably fall into the Abyss of Unfinished Blogs....where many blogs go to die, for many years ago the Lord told me to never feed stale bread.
But today, even with everything that needs to be done before my sister flies in tomorrow, I feel like it's not yet stale and is begging to be finished. I'll let you decide if it was worth resurrecting it...
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First I need you to read this quote. No cheating! I know it's a lot of words but I have faith in you!
"Anyone who has ever stood up for the truth of human dignity, no matter how disfigured, only to find supportive friends holding back, even remonstrating with you for your boldness, feels the loneliness of the poverty of uniqueness. This happens every day to those who choose to suffer for the absolute voice of conscience, even in what seem to be small matters. They find themselves standing alone.
I have yet to meet the man or woman who enjoys such responsibility.
"The measure of our depth-awareness of Christ's present risenness is our capacity to stand up for the truth and sustain the disapproval of significant others. An increasing passion for truth evokes a growing indifference to public opinion and to what people say or think. We can no longer drift with the crowd or echo the opinions of others. The inner voice, "Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid," assures that our security rests in having no security. When we stand on our own two feet and claim responsibility for our unique self, we are growing in personal autonomy, fortitude, and freedom from the bondage of human approval." Abba's Child-Brennan Manning
The Poverty of Uniqueness. What is that you may ask? It's the call of Jesus to stand utterly alone when the only alternative is to cut a deal at the price of one's integrity.
It's the courageous determination to make unpopular decisions that are expressive of the truth of who we are...not who we think we should be or who someone else wants us to be.
Have you ever struggled with people pleasing? I have. I have spent most of my life not even realizing that I was doing it.
I think we're all born with an innate desire to want to be the very best we can be...to be all others want us to be....to make people happy.
And that's fine when you're two years old, but not so fine when you're 40 or 50 or 60.
And that's fine when you're two years old, but not so fine when you're 40 or 50 or 60.
Remember those middle school dances? Those excrutiatingly painful middle school dances? When you pressed yourself against the gym wall, convinced that if you made yourself invisible it wouldn't hurt so much when no one asked you to dance?
It was just you, in all your adolescent clumsiness...wanting to be noticed...wanting to be picked...wanting to be chosen. But later, when all was said and done and the lights were out and you were sitting in the back of your parent's car, you knew you weren't enough.
And thus begins the dance...not with another person, but with yourself.
I can't remember the split second in time that I chose to let go of the Real Me and embrace the Me I Felt I Should Be. Maybe because I remember so strongly that middle school dance that it was then.
Or maybe it wasn't even one choice...maybe it was a thousand and one choices I made in response to the culture and my family and my friends. All I knew was that everyone was dancing and I wanted to be on the floor also...not a forever wallflower.
So for years I compromised and watched and imitated...morphing into someone that others approved of. But no matter how much effort I put into it, I always fell short. And I was getting so very tired. All I wanted to do was stop. And rest.
It was just you, in all your adolescent clumsiness...wanting to be noticed...wanting to be picked...wanting to be chosen. But later, when all was said and done and the lights were out and you were sitting in the back of your parent's car, you knew you weren't enough.
And thus begins the dance...not with another person, but with yourself.
I can't remember the split second in time that I chose to let go of the Real Me and embrace the Me I Felt I Should Be. Maybe because I remember so strongly that middle school dance that it was then.
Or maybe it wasn't even one choice...maybe it was a thousand and one choices I made in response to the culture and my family and my friends. All I knew was that everyone was dancing and I wanted to be on the floor also...not a forever wallflower.
So for years I compromised and watched and imitated...morphing into someone that others approved of. But no matter how much effort I put into it, I always fell short. And I was getting so very tired. All I wanted to do was stop. And rest.