Lately I've felt convicted (and I hate that word, by the way, but sometimes it just says it best) of loving people better. I am a classic cynic, though maybe not as much as some. Particularly my 17-year-old sister, the queen of snide comments about how life is one massive joke and nobody's immune and heck, you're all just stupid! Then mom gives her a look and Grace says I KNOW I KNOW, DO I REALIZE HOW MUCH HAPPINESS I'M MISSING OUT ON?
She is a product of her youngest-child upbringing. How else does one become so jaded at such an age? Unless it was all that dog food she ate as a kid. Such is the neglected fate which befalls those who fly under the radar simply because they are inconspicuous. And by inconspicuous I mean not as obnoxious as the rest.
I am remarkably skilled at hiding my cynicism. I'm not sure how that happened, though I choose to blame it on Robin. Why? Because everything is her fault. She became the fall guy when I woke up one morning to find the back door wide open, having been that way all night long after she'd been the last to use it. I could've been bludgeoned in my sleep and it would've been all her fault. It just makes sense that she shoulder the rest of my problems. The only time anything was ever my fault (and I'm more than happy to own it) was the time I stopped by my house after housesitting for three weeks, dropped off my stuff, packed more stuff, then left again for a road trip.. and the sweet old man from the Lutheran church next door asked if we were still having issues with our plumbing and I, suitcase in hand, said YOU KNOW, I'M NOT SURE... I HAVEN'T LIVED HERE FOR THREE WEEKS.
And I may or may not have added BECAUSE WE BROKE UP.
I think my skills of masking are fed by the fact that I'm 1) personable, 2) confident, and 3) visible. I have learned that people like talking to me because they feel they know me when, in reality, they don't at all. And after awhile, I have developed the conclusion that they must like me for what I can do/have done, as opposed to who I am. I am immediately cynical of their motives, as I am convinced if they took the time to dig deeper, they would change their mind.
Or if they met my family. One of the two.
I realize it's not fair to other people that I'm like this. And maybe that's what sparked my need to change. To be more open-minded. To love even if I see no reason why. I am addicted to having a reason.
You learn a lot about people when you take the time to approach them for no reason other than you care, or want to be Jesus to them, or just want to bask in their aura. I have always been one to let people come to me, not vice versa. It's easy to do when you stand in front of hundreds of people on any given week. Yet there are Sundays when I walk offstage and to my corner just so nobody will try to talk to me. I crave quality, relish in investment, and casually talking to a dozen people who know my name though I don't know theirs, has always been considered a waste of my time. Brutal, I know. And the Lord has chipped away at this resolve I have to only be where I am most comfortable and seems most logical.
The idea: I am here to be used. In ways I may never be aware of, but that should not stop me.
One of my favorite words is tattooed on my back: UNDONE. In light of all that I am not and all that He is. This state where it's all I can do to claw for grace all the while knowing I don't deserve it. Knowing it has already been granted.
So I go back to the reminder which is, of myself I am not able. Of myself I cannot possibly love someone best. CHRIST IN ME. Right.
Don't judge my methods. They are unorthodox at best. If I make you jello shots, it means I love you. If I laugh THEN tell you about the major booger you've had dangling out of your nose all morning, it means I love you more.
Perhaps most rewarding are the things I learn from observing others. I am surrounded by people who love deeply, in great capacity, despite themselves. It is vastly underrated, having someone speak truth in your life. You can tell it's real when they stick around for the certain spontaneous combustion resulting from your having just been reamed up one side and down the other. All in the name of love, of course. They know truth, while it may take time to sink in, will always trump deceit. God will always show up.
Do I trust that God is Who He says He is? Yes. Then love. And love. And worry about myself. Crap.
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