Permission To Come Undone (Being Human pt. 6)

I was talking with a friend of mine recently and she is one of ‘those’ kinds of friends. You know the type. She knows how to ask the right question, how to listen intently and wait as long as it takes to get the real answer, the right answer and to make you feel safe enough that if you wanted to…you could cry with her. And it would totally be ok.

Unfortunately, those sorts of people are few and far between.

At the start of our conversation I decided to throw out a test question, to see if I had read her correctly and if she was indeed as safe as I thought. I asked it with some context that isn’t important here and also in a genuinely light-hearted manner, so it wasn’t quite as awkward as it will seem. “So… if I come undone today during our time together, that’s ok, right?” Without batting an eye,  with a smile and gentle chuckle even, she replied, “You have complete permission to come undone.”

As I reflected on our conversation that day, I wondered why her words stuck with me. Could it have been her comfort with whatever form of emotion I chose to express? Her invitation for me to be as real or as vulnerable as I wanted? Maybe it was how she managed to create a safe place for us to talk and exchange more than just information. And I thought about how few places there are in my life where I have permission to come undone.

I found it sort of sad that somehow our emotions aren’t always as welcome into a conversation as our intellect or humor. What does it say about my normal conversational style and rhythms that I felt I needed permission from another person to express how I felt? Aren’t my emotions a valid and important part of who I am? And why is it that I am not always comfortable with this part of me or this part of others when it is their turn to come undone?

Jesus meets us in our humanity. This is the main thesis of the series entitled Being Human. There are things in our most fleshly, most earthly, most human parts that Jesus loves to inhabit, to speak to, to heal, to change, to redeem, to restore, to love. Jesus made us humans and He made us human. This includes our tears.

There are times we come undone and it is very much ok. Natural. Healthy. Those times when emotion bubbles and pours out of us. And while I can’t fully explain it, sometimes part of the undoing process must involve others – being with those who know how to guide us into and out of our undoing. Then we learn, when it is our turn, to walk others into and out of their undoing. While there is certainly a time for crying alone, I’m not sure that is how God planned it. It seems to me that when we learn to weep together, and this part of our humanity becomes ok in community, something powerful happens.

We connect. We learn to trust someone else with our pain. Shame dissipates. We humble ourselves with each other, cracking the door to greater relational depth. We learn to open our hearts in the presence of others, making peace with who God has made us to be, even when it is a bit messy. Or a lot messy. Jesus shows up and inhabits those moments, using us in each others lives to begin the process of ‘undoing’ what sin has done – and to begin the process of ‘re-doing’ us in His image.

So I’ve been wondering, when people are talking with me, am I a safe person? Am I comfortable enough in my own skin and with my own emotional health to invite others to be as real as they choose, to express whatever they feel with no fear of rejection or shame? Am I a good enough conversationalist that I can lead and/or follow people to talk about things that are important enough, where we get beyond just the head and maybe, just maybe, delve into the arena of the heart?

And am I willing to go first when appropriate?

A Verbal Slap In The Face

I wasn’t planning on posting this until later this month, but a particular phone call from a friend on this exact topic has motivated me to share this now. I wrote this for another friend’s blog a while back, but wanted to share it here too.

Eccl 4: 9-10 Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!

Pr. 27:5 Better is open rebuke than hidden love.

I was doubled over in grief and trying desperately not to vomit on the sidewalk. The news of my second miscarriage in a few months was more than heart breaking – it was soul shattering. How could God let this happen? What on earth had I signed up for in becoming a Christ-follower? And if this was my present, what was in store for my future?

Have you ever been in the place where events so contradicted what you know in your heart to be true? Where what is happening is so painful, so … that your whole world has just been flipped upside down and you can’t even find which way is up?

Barely intelligible through gut-wrenching sobs, I cried out, “I guess this happened because there is some lesson out there God wants me to learn. And I must not be getting it.”

Have you ever uttered words in that moment, in that moment where the truth escapes your lips before you can think to cover them with acceptable “church-speak”? And when you heard what was actually in your heart, you cringed at the darkness there?

I could run through all sorts of theological reasons why that statement just might be true. God is sovereign and nothing is ever out of His control. Had He wanted to, He could have stepped in at any moment and stopped the loss. God does indeed use all our circumstances for good and continually teaches us  through whatever happens. I knew all the church answers, but…

In that moment of honesty, when all my filters of self-restraint were stripped away, when unimaginable pain squeezed me beyond what I thought I could endure, out popped a deep seated lie that had been hidden in my heart for years. I thought God was a terrifying cop, waiting to pounce on the slightest infraction, a heartless teacher, rapping my knuckles to drive a lesson home, a taskmaster more concerned with what I did for Him than how I received love from Him.

“Deanna, that is a lie! That is a lie from hell!” As my good friend spoke, she grabbed my face in her hands and pulled me so close, she was looking right into my tear-filled eyes. And I instantly knew her words were true. She was verbally slapping me in the face, showing me greater love than any hug could have in that moment and opening my eyes to something I was incapable of seeing myself. Evidently I had internalized some pretty severe lies about God’s identity and His intentions towards me. Wow! What bravery for her to go there with me and say what I really, really needed to hear in that moment!

Have you ever had a friend speak such truth to you that you actually blinked as you heard their words, that it took you more than a moment to answer because of the shock? That maybe you were actually embarrassed at first listen, but then as you wrapped your heart around them, wanted the truth more than your dignity?

Where these lies came from, why they were so powerfully lodged in my heart, how God used this event in my life and the resolution of the theological questions it raised is too much of a story for this post. But one thing I learned is this: having a truth-speaking friend who is courageous enough to wade into very deep relational waters with me is invaluable, life-giving and something EVERY believer needs. 

Are you willing to go there with someone else? Are you willing to be the type of friend who not only hugs but slaps when it is more loving? And when you get slapped in love, do you hear the message behind it? Do you have this type of friend? If not, what do you have to do to cultivate that type of relationship?

What Are You So Afraid Of?

Proverbs 15:31 He who listens to a life-giving rebuke will be at home among the wise.

“Worry is a cycle of inefficient thoughts whirling around a center of fear.” Corrie ten Boom

I wrote previously about a great conversation I had with a friend who challenged me on my tendency to repeat cycling through the same topics without making progress. I also had a friend ask me recently, “What are you so afraid of?”

This question caught me off guard. I hadn’t realized just how many of my actions were motivated by fear. Or how obvious it was to those around me. Right after this conversation and  question, I sat down with God, my Bible and a journal to answer it. In a moment of soul-baring honesty, I just started writing – and this is what came bubbling out.

Fear of the future. Fear of “what if…” Fear of the unknown. Fear that I’m dreaming the wrong dream or that I’m dreaming too big. Fear that people will laugh at me (particularly because of the dreams I have). Fear of a wasted life. Fear of God not loving me enough or not being able or willing to step in on my behalf. Fear that I am not good enough, strong enough or smart enough to do the things I’m called to do. Fear that I am hearing God’s voice in my life wrongly.  Fear that the best part of my life is past and the future is downhill. Fear that I won’t get to do the things I love to do and feel like I was created to do. Fear that I really am as insignificant and unimportant as I often think I am. Fear that God doesn’t really love me like He says He does but puts up with me because He has to. Fear that as a teacher and writer I’m wearing the emperor’s invisible clothing – thinking what I do is beautiful and useful but in actuality, those around me are laughing.

And unfortunately, my list of fears could go on and on. Some days I really am quite a big mess. I needed a good question and a deep conversation to stop me in my tracks, to wake me up to a spiritual limp that was crippling my forward progress. I needed some time with my Jesus to show me that:

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears in not made perfect in love.” I John 4:18

God has promised that He will never leave of forsake me, that He will be with me wherever I go,  that I will never fall out of His hand, that He intends good, not harm for me, that if I delight myself in Him, He will give me the desires of my heart. (Joshua 1:5 and 9, John 10:31, Jer. 29:11, Ps. 37:4) Part of being a child of God means that I believe my Dad when He speaks.

I know these things in my head – it’s just that some days, when I’m tired, confused or discouraged, it takes them a while to travel to my heart.

Which is why I need friends who engage me on big and important ideas. Great conversation breathes life to my soul. I am so grateful when someone knows me well enough and  loves me deeply enough to speak truth (gently, gently…) in such a way that something inside of me shakes loose. No one knows how much gunk is between their teeth until they floss. Whether  it is dental or spiritual, denial sets us up for much bigger problems later. I’m so thankful for friends who are brave enough to ask thought-provoking, heart-rattling questions. And  a God who speaks clearly when I settle down to listen.

My takeaway was two-fold:

1. I need to cultivate those relationships that breathe life into me. I need to look for those people who recognize truth, but also have the wisdom to wield it well.

2. I need to live as if I believe the truth that as a child of God, I am indeed safe in His will for my life and that His plans for me are good.

The Danger Of…Choosing All My Friends

(The Danger series, pt. 3)

Let’s be honest. We don’t always make the best choices for ourselves when left on our own. Cheeseburger vs. salad. Staying up late watching nothing on tv vs. reading a good book and going to bed at a reasonable time. Personal Bible study vs. hours spent on Facebook. Even though our heads tell us which should win, our reality is often a general slide to self-indulgence.

This is also true in the area of personal relationships. Left to myself I chose friends who are easy to be with, those who make me laugh, help me with things and are generally pleasant to be around. There is nothing wrong with that. And yet there is something wrong with that.

Even a cursory survey of the New Testament shows that our relationships are to be a primary spiritual shaper for us. In them, we learn to love unconditionally, to be transparent, to offer and receive forgiveness, to serve and learn the humility to let others serve us. We learn to submit our desires and wants under the needs of others, to control those things that would control us, our self-centeredness and tempers.

The friends I chose on my own can and should be a wonderful source of joy, comfort and encouragement, but are they character shaping?

What if I let God choose a friend for me? What if I looked around at the relational circle I’m living in, and see who might just be there for deeper reasons than just to irritate? What if I chose to cultivate a relationship with someone whom I would consider difficult? Who might not be my first choice of someone to hang out with? What if instead of looking for what I can get from a relationship, I look for what I can give to it? And in that relationship, what if I took up the challenge to be Christ-like with them? Maybe I let their difficult-ness squeeze me a little and see what pops out. Impatience, an unloving attitude, selfishness, anger? Maybe the revelation of some of those core sins of mine, and the opportunity to knead some Christ-likeness into the deepest places of my soul is worth a little relational discomfort.

I want to be clear, I am not advocating pursuing relationships that are dangerous or unhealthy. I’m not even saying that our primary relationships should be difficult ones. It would be crazy to seek to spend the majority of our friend time with people we don’t like and who drain us. We need friends who are easy, who love us and who are…well… friends in the truest sense of the word.

But I can see a danger to my soul when, left on my own, I chose all of my own friends.

The Danger Of Repeated Conversations

(The Danger series, pt. 1)

A rebuke impresses a man of discernment more than a hundred lashes a fool. Pr. 17:10

Better is open rebuke than hidden love. Pr. 27:5

Wounds from a friend can be trusted…Pr. 27:6

Recently I was visiting with a friend I usually only see face to face about once a year. Because the time together with friends like that is so limited, conversation goes to different and deeper levels pretty quickly. There is no luxury of small talk. Like the grandparent who only sees the grandchild once a year, instantly noticing just how much they’ve grown and changed, friends like this offer me really valuable observations. They don’t hear the intermediate steps in my thought processes, just moments frozen in time, a year or so apart. Progress, or lack thereof is pretty obvious with a glance.

All this to say, I felt slapped in the face by this recent conversation. In a good way, to be sure, but slapped in the face nonetheless. As my friend and I were talking about one of my heart issues, she said, “Deanna, we had this exact conversation a year ago. It seems like you should have moved on. If, in 5 years, we are still having the same conversation, I’ll be very sad.” How ’bout that for honest exchange? The memory of the hand print on my cheek still stings.

She realized and called me on the fact that with this particular issue, I had made almost no progress in the last year. I was shocked at the honest look at myself, a bit embarrassed by the truth of it and more grateful than I can say for the opportunity to kick a particular area of my life out of neutral and into gear.

This experience was helpful to me in starting to really listen to the things I’m talking about with my trusted friends and realizing the danger of repeated conversations. Having time to process particular issues through a series of conversations is certainly useful. Some heart topics require a season to move through, and it is an amazing blessing to have faithful friends  who are willing to walk alongside. But at some point I need to break the cycle of endless analysis and hand wringing and start moving forward. At some point, I need to start having new conversations.