Hardheartedness

It's unnerving how quickly I can go from feeling so thankful during my day to feeling bitter and ungrateful about the way things are going. And that's the story of my life recently. Grasping sweet excitement at where I am at this point in my life, only to find myself stuck in frustration the next moment, feeling ungrateful because I feel like I'm behind in life and giving more than I'm getting and feeling underappreciated and I hate it because it makes me bitter towards the people I love.

There's many reasons that are very easy to point out as to what's wrong with my mindset. I know them even more, at least in my head. I know I need a joy that won't change. I know that I am living for a God who sees me when no one else does and His opinion is the one that matters. I know that the reason I'm frustrated is because I'm making life about me and giving with the expectation that somehow I'll get something back eventually.  Which isn't how my Savior has loved me, nor the natural response of someone who knows how extravagantly loved she is, given riches of a love she could never earn.

I opened my Bible yesterday to a chapter section titled “Hardheartedness.” Of course.

It was about some religious men that came up to Jesus, asking why there were instructions for how to handle divorce under the law,  if God's plan for marriage was that a man and woman joined together in marriage wouldn't ever be separated, like Jesus was teaching. Jesus responded that it was because of the people’s hardheartedness that God gave that law, but that wasn’t the original plan. The original plan was that unless adultery was committed; you didn’t just leave when you felt like it.

Hardheartedness is really about stubbornness. Wanting my way instead of God’s way. Forgetting God’s heart and what He’s done for me, abandoning His plan for life that He has whispered in my ear, choosing instead to live by my own standards of what’s right and fair. It keeps me from knowing and living in His love that satisfies and heals and gives life and real joy. “No, no, no, this is not what I want,” My heart hurts as I write out these thoughts and realize what my bitterness is cutting me off from. Also, if God’s plan for my life is to shine for Him, be freely who He made me to be before Him, to know and love God and with all my heart…having one that is hard and resentful stomps all over that. I miss out on the full life God wants to give me, and I stifle the love of God that is supposed to flow from my relationship with Him to people around me.

I don’t want God to have to relate to me through my hardheartedness, around and despite my bitterness. I don’t want to live constantly fighting between His way and my way. I want the real root issue solved. Real healing. A new heart. Living together with my Creator who Jesus taught me to call Father, I want to be and stay on the same page as Him, to walk in step with my Maker with nothing between us or separating us in any way. I want the original plan that Jesus talked about. I want the new, born again life that Jesus came to give, the new heart that He bought for me through His sacrifice on the cross that was enough forever and ever. I want a heart that is free and open to the wonders and majesty and power and closeness and love of my true Father.

When Adam and Eve first chose their own way instead of God’s and shame entered the world, God made clothes for them and covered them. But that wasn’t the original plan. I don’t want to just hide anymore. To cover up and pretend nothing is wrong and close my heart off even more. Especially because somehow I can't help but believe Jesus when He said He has made a way for me to experience real, inside-out healing for my stubbornness. His love covers and I’m grateful. But I don’t want to stay like this, covered but living from a place of what I want instead of His plan.

I need Your heart Lord. The back and forth waves of thankful contentment and silent bitterness push and pull me throughout the day. I’m frustrated at my wandering heart and I know You’re the only one stable enough to be my true refuge, my safe place. Like the quote that a friend shared recently, “The only one who can satisfy the human heart is the One who made it.” What else can I do but keep falling at Your feet, asking You to make me new? I need You if I ever want to fully be the "me" I was created to be. 

Frustrations...a draft from the beginning of the year that I never posted

Some days I am thankful that He knows my heart and thoughts, when I don't have the words to express what I'm feeling and I wouldn't have the strength to say them anyway. Some days I feel worn down and misunderstood and alone, and the taunting voices in my head whisper, "Is it worth it, is it worth it?"

I try to shut out the voices that tell me to give up, that it's too much for me to handle. I already know that. I am living for a life that is so much greater than my own; one that I cannot do without Jesus. And God whispers His strength for me right back to my heart, reminding me that living a life that is impossible without relying on Him is the only way I want to live. Warmth and strength and beautiful hope flood through me as I read Paul's words in his letter to the Corinthians:

"Since God has so generously let us in on what he is doing, we’re not about to throw up our hands and walk off the job just because we run into occasional hard times...Remember, our Message is not about ourselves; we’re proclaiming Jesus Christ, the Master. All we are is messengers, errand runners from Jesus for you. It started when God said, “Light up the darkness!” and our lives filled up with light as we saw and understood God in the face of Christ, all bright and beautiful.

If you only look at us, you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That’s to prevent anyone from confusing God’s incomparable power with us. As it is, there’s not much chance of that. You know for yourselves that we’re not much to look at. We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken...what Jesus did among them, he does in us—he lives! "

Life lived without Jesus as the King of my life might be easier. But it would NOT be worth it. I don't want a life of easy. I want a life of knowing Him.  And this is hard when it leads me to feel tension where I once felt comfort.

My heart feels like it's being ripped apart because I see emptiness all around me. And sometimes the fight seems impossibly overwhelming.  I see people needing a Rescuer but not even knowing it. 

It's hard because I know this Rescuer. The One who continued to call my name even when I was stubborn and didn't want to hear Him. The One who came and got me when I found myself wondering why life was so empty. The One who I entrusted my empty, and who filled me with life I didn't know existed. It was Jesus who set me free from a life lived for myself, and He who is teaching me daily more and more about what it means to live a life that matters. Knowing Him is a treasure that I cannot put into words.

But it is also knowing Him that makes it so hard. It's hard when the treasure of Jesus here with us seems to go as unnoticed by most of the world as when He was born in a stable, in a crowded town with everyone else concerned and busy with their lives and getting things done that they totally missed it.

I'm frustrated but don't know how to fix it or what to do to make it better. It's hard for me to grasp the fact that there are things I can't change.  But I try, oh how I try. I convince myself it will all be ok if I work harder, pray more, plan better, be more dependable, more loving, spend more time with people. I convince myself that I can. I can do it all. And I keep going until even my stubbornness isn't enough.

I read about Jesus and how He flipped over tables at the temple when He was frustrated and I imagine I am there. Frustrated at the unfairness and exploitation around me and frustrated that I don't see a way out, how it will ever change. And then I hear the crash of a table being thrown. I am shocked to turn to see Jesus. Without stopping He knocks over another. He is yelling something, fury in His voice. Chaos ensues and animals are running and people are yelling  My first reaction is to tell Him to stop. "Are you out of your mind?" I want to ask this Him, "You're disturbing everything!" Yet at the same time there's a part of me that has been longing for someone to do this. To make the wrong things right, things that I feel I am helpless to do anything about. And here is Jesus, doing it in a way that is fierce, bold, intentional, unapologetic.

In the middle of it my confused eyes meet His and I feel held in place by His gaze, like time is frozen. I am afraid but in a good way. Because in this second I just know: He knows.

He knows my frustrations. He hates injustice. He knows what He is doing. And there's something else that I don't know if I can bring myself to really believe because I don't want to get my hopes up. But it's this: that He's fighting for me.

I forget I want Him to be in control, the One who fights for me, the One who holds me when I realize I can't hold it all together. I come before Him protesting and angry and frustrated and wanting things to be different than how they are. And I hear His voice saying, "I am mad about things too." I didn't know that was allowed.

And after the temple has been cleared the blind and the lame come to Him and He heals them. He makes eyes that only saw dark nothingness see color and life and beauty. Hands and legs that couldn't move are waving and dancing. Mouths that couldn't speak are singing to God. The place begins to pulse with life from the most unexpected people.

I didn't think that was allowed. I thought you had to be somebody special.  But here is Jesus healing anyone who comes, bringing life to anyone who wants to find it.

Vulnerability

&%^$#!

That's what I think when I think of vulnerability.

I've been thinking about this topic a lot lately.  And talking about it with a few close friends.  And reading books about other people dealing with it. And recently I've had some time to try to process a few of these things and write them down. And so here they are before I change my mind about sharing my thoughts for everyone to read because of my fears about what people will think about me when I say what I think.

Vulnerability. Even the word just sounds scary. I'm the one much more likely to take deliberate steps that allow me to control what others know and think about me. The idea that giving up that control could ever be a good thing was a new and foreign idea to me. But I was curious. Because somewhere in me I knew my life tactic of never letting anyone have an effect on me that I couldn't control wasn't really working either.

So what do you do? What do you do when you’re trying to stay calm and be in control because you've always thought that is what you have to do, but still you find yourself caught in the middle of conflict, or accusations, or uncomfortable interactions with other people?

In these situations, my mind races back and forth thinking about what to do and how to react, with each contract-and-relax pulse of my rapidly-increasing heartbeat. Be nice, be calm, breathe, don't over-react, don’t let what you’re thinking show on your face. But between each attempt at a reaction that is well-controlled and wisely thought out are the raw-emotion responses that I’ve trained myself so well to suppress. Do you realize what you’re saying? What are you talking about? You make no sense. I don't understand you. And, you're wrong.

It's hard to admit what I mean person I can be on the inside. But since that's what Jesus always spoke directly to, the root issues of the heart, and since He was known for discrediting all efforts to make yourself look good and put together on the outside, I know continuing to pretend I don't think these things isn't hidden from Him, the One who really matters. As much as I have tried to simply will myself not think these things, and to just "be better," I've found that this doesn't actually work very well.

Anyway, while these thoughts are racing around in my mind, the external end result is usually shut down mode. Abort mission, I want out. “Ok, yes, got it, I understand that that is how you feel."  All the while thinking, I do NOT want to deal with this right now. Make it stop. Say any response that will get me out of this volatile place of emotions that I feel like I can’t control.

Possibly one of the most frustrating things in these situations is when all of my attempts to be calm and take deep breaths and respond in an understanding way, even though I don’t feel like it, aren’t acknowledged. Instead, I’m blamed for hiding my “true feelings” or not being genuine. Yes, I know I’m not saying what I really feel. And it’s because I really do think that it’s for everyone’s benefit. Because what is the other option? Me reacting in a backlash statement that I’m going to regret and have to apologize for? Something that I can never take back and that can be used against me forever? Definitely not. Wrestling with my emotions inside my head is messy enough.  Surely hiding them in the safe confines of my mind is where they should stay.

Except that all the things I keep stuffed inside me and try to bury can never be resolved or dealt with by keeping them all to myself. And "all to myself" is kind of a lonely and sometimes very overwhelming place to be. I guess that is a problem. Oh, the process of learning.

So yes. In trying to understand how to respond to these things, I’ve been reading some good books about others who have walked and are walking the path of messy vulnerability.

In her book Rising Strong, Brené Brown defines vulnerability as neither winning nor losing. "It's having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness; it's our greatest measure of courage." (What!? No one ever told me that. Being emotional is a sign of vulnerability, and vulnerability is weakness. Avoid at all costs. Right?)

She also writes about the hard truth of being brave by putting ourselves out there. Something I feel like I knew but didn't want to admit. "We can choose courage or we can choose comfort, but we can't have both. Not at the same time."

So her advice? "Give yourself permission to feel emotion, get curious about it, pay attention to it, and practice. This work takes practice. Awkward, uncomfortable practice." Darn. I thought there'd be some easier way around this, where I don't have to get it wrong first. But, the good stuff? You might be the first person in your life to grant yourself the permission to experience emotion. If you're worried this permission to experience and engage with emotion that will turn you into someone you're not or don't want to become (is she reading my mind?) - it won't. It will, however, give you the opportunity to be your most authentic self.

In his book "Scary Close", Don Miller talks about a list he made in order to help him live a vulnerable life and avoid playing it safe:

Those are brave but scary words, and I currently find myself at a place of considering if those things he calls "freedoms" are worth the risk.

Slowly, I’m getting to the point of acknowledging and paying attention to those things called emotions that come and go throughout my day, rising up in my heart - subtle, internal responses to conversations and relationships and events that often seemingly come from nowhere. I'm learning to remember to ask, "Why am I feeling like this?" instead of dismissing the feeling as irrelevant. And I’m learning, with bittersweet submission, to be okay with the struggle. To accept that I will be misunderstood by others and that I don't often know why I feel things or how to communicate them or even what to do about the nudges of annoyance, sadness, excitement, frustration, anxiety, stress, and happiness that I do feel.

I know without a doubt that all of these things would leave me drowning in a sea of complete hopelessness on my own. But one of the things (among many) that amazes me about Jesus was how He loved people with problems. Big problems. And He loved them in the middle of the problems, not when people looked all nice and put together and "acceptable" to society. He healed, taught, forgave, spent time with, had compassion on, and radically loved the ones who thought of themselves as unconditionally undeserving of all these things. People who actually had every reason to think those things about themselves, except that meeting Jesus changes everything. He Himself was the reason their situations were not utterly hopeless. And He Himself is the reason that I am not utterly hopeless.

I’m learning to find for myself that same grace Jesus has for me in the process. To grab a hold of His love even in my imperfectness and my I'm-not-where-I-want-to-be-yet state. To let myself be loved by Him as I am, in the middle of this process of being healed and learning how to be vulnerable, even if this journey is going to be long and painful and it will require me to stumble my way along rough and rugged terrain.

I've read in the part of the bible called the gospels about how Jesus sent his friends out into the surrounding villages with authority to heal people and cast out demons and tell people that God wanted them. To love people just like they had seen Him doing. Except Jesus also told them not to take any extra food or money or extra clothes for the journey. And what really stuck out to me recently when I was reading this story was that Jesus told them to offer the good news about the accessibility of the kingdom of God first, regardless of how people would treat them for bringing this news. Going out with nothing extra, no plan B, and loving people without knowing how they would respond - now that's scary vulnerability.

But, it’s how Jesus did things. And what He taught His followers to do. He was always the first one to reach out. He forgave the ones that weren’t even sorry. He loved in the most gut-wrenchingly painful way that would make me want to crawl into a hole and protect my heart and dignity. But Jesus put His love on display even when people thought He was stupid and making a total fool out of Himself.

John, one of Jesus' closest friends on earth, later wrote about Jesus, “We love because He loved us first." It's Jesus' kind of love, the kind that isn't afraid to be vulnerable, that calls me out of my hiding place, crawling and feeling my way along the path that My Savior is leading me on, a road that He knows well because He walked it first. He loved me first, through the insecurities and mess-ups and pride and ignorance, and has promised to leave me never. He is the only hope and reason I have to keep hoping. And slowly but surely, I know He is turning my thoughts and fears of vulnerability right-side up, even when I can’t fully see what that looks like yet.

But what I can’t see now, I can hope for from what I do already know. It was through the shame and brokenness, the complete ultimate vulnerability of being nailed to a cross that Jesus rose to life again in strength and power and victory. This is the story He invites us to. He is no stranger to vulnerability, shame, and brokenness, but His rising to life brings hope that even death can’t destroy. I want to see this happen in my life too, for the things I'm afraid to be vulnerable with. My request is like that of the one blind man who met Jesus along the road, before Jesus opened his eyes.

“What is it that you want me to do for you?", Jesus had asked him.

"Lord", the man responded, "I want to see."

I want to see too. I want to see why being vulnerable is worth the risk. I want to see why I would want embrace the process of being broken when what I really want to do is run away and hide. I want to see the not-yet-fully-seen hope of healing that awaits on the other side of vulnerability, even when there's no other way to reach it than by confronting the messy parts head on.

So Jesus, please, help me. I want to see.