Monday, March 2, 2015

When Classy Doesn't Cut It

I still remember agonizing over what could be the core of that rubber band ball.
            I was a kitchen worker (T.E.A.M. member—now “Secret Service Member”) at camp. Ninth grade. And Hector was still the T.E.A.M. leader. In one of our Bible studies, he held up his famous rubber band ball. I don’t even remember how heavy it was. It was huge. Band-upon-band, wrapped around a small core. A core that only Hector knew.
            “This is not a rubber band ball,” he told us. “The rubber bands are just what are covering the true core of this ball. Only I, the creator of the ball, truly know what this ball is. You can only see what it has been covered in.”
            He went on to explain that we do this in our lives—we apply rubber bands to our core. God created us to be something/someone, but we seek identity in other things. We apply “rubber bands” to our lives, because we want people to see us as those things.
            I don’t think I realized, at the time, how much I did, and would continue to do, just that. It’s something I’ve always done. Perhaps I’ve mentioned before that my motto is basically, “go big or go home.” It’s not so much something that I have consciously implemented in my life as much as it is something ingrained in my character from the beginning. As Matty said to me last night, “You either walk really fast, or you walk really slowly. You’re either really loud or really quiet.” I go to extremes. So when I find something I like, I go at it—hard. And I tend to wrap it around myself like a rubber band, wanting people to see me as that. To associate me with that.
            I like old-fashioned things, and I have a high appreciation for class. I wear high heels and pencil skirts with my shirts neatly tucked in and topped with a cardigan. My hair is often swept back into a tidy bun, hair sprayed to perfection. While I tend to wear neutral colours (often simply black, white, and grey), my lips are most often painted with a vibrant red (courtesy of the influence of my dear friends Katelyn and Lauren).
            I’m known for being a studious person, so I embrace my nerdiness to its fullest. “Yes I just casually quoted Jane Austen in normal conversation—I’m sorry You didn’t notice; let me point that out for you…” type of thing. Tease me for studying too much? You probably just made my day.
            My blood type is O-negative; the universal donor. Which I find pretty special.
Those are just a few things—to give you a good picture of what I’m talking about.
            Today, I had all my rubber bands in place. After only a few tries, my hair kindly complied with my wishes and formed a bun swept over to the side of my head, a braid pulled over as a band on top. My sheer, cream shirt, grey cardigan, and black pencil skirt cleanly contrasted with my cherry-red lips. Even my fingernails were painted red—a rare occurrence, indeed. Finally, I bravely wore my 4-5 inch, off-white, satin heels with sparkly platform and heel. My thick black-rimmed glasses and trademark pearls topped it all off. I looked everything I ever want to look. But was I satisfied?
            Nope.
            In fact, I was struggling with personal spiritual/emotional things for most of the day. Because even though I looked the part, it didn’t satisfy me. To everyone else, I looked just right—but I knew that, inwardly, I wasn’t.
            I ended up sitting down and exposing many of the lies I’ve been telling myself for so long. Lies that control and enslave me. Lies that pinch and pull and shove me into tight molds that I have forged from personal ideals and values.
            People look at me, and what do they see?
The girl who looks like she just walked out of the 1940’s?
The girl who studies a lot and gets good grades? 
            But is that who I am?
            What about when I don’t have time to get ready in the morning, and I end up wearing jeans and a t-shirt?
            What about when I don’t get my assignments done, or I don’t make the grade I wanted on the test?
            (My blood type isn’t going anywhere—I don’t have to worry about that one)
            But really, what happens when those things are gone? That’s a scary idea for me. Because when I seek to find my identity in earthly things, I’m always faced with the reality that those things are temporary. I’m constantly striving to find identity in things, and when they fade, or when other people start claiming them for themselves and outshining me, I feel like part of my significance is sapped away from me.
            And I’m left wanting.
            But that’s exactly what I needed. I needed to see that I was searching in all the wrong places for security. Sure, I was seeking security in Christ, but not in every area. I was looking for Christ, plus style. Self-image. Intelligence. Kind of like the “All I need is a little bit of coffee and a whole lot of Jesus,” mentality.
            No. No no no. You just need Jesus. Yea, I get that I’m taking that very literally and probably too seriously, but we really do think like that sometimes! More times than we’d like to admit, I’d wager.
            What do I really need? What am I to be seeking?

“Whom have I in heaven but you?
And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

 For behold, those who are far from you shall perish;
you put an end to everyone who is unfaithful to you.
But for me it is good to be near God;
I have made the Lord God my refuge,
that I may tell of all your works.”
Psalm 73:25-28


“If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are abovewhere Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earthFor you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.
Colossians 3:1-4

            I don’t really know how to wrap this up. Indeed, I barely feel like I communicated what I wanted to in this post to begin with. Because it’s still something turning over in my head. I’m still discovering areas in my life where I’m more messed up than I previously realized. I’m still seeking truth to fill in the gaps where I have exposed the lies. And I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know all the right verses. And I’m not going to get this right on the first try.

            But it’s easier to clean up when you’re so painfully aware of how dirty things are. And I have the great physician to help me heal. I have the creator who made me—who gave me my core, and desires that I seek Him. Find my identity in Him and who He made me to be. That all my actions and desires are pointed towards Him and my sanctification—for His glory. Not so I can feel good about myself, so that I’m more confident and self-liberated. No, that’s not what I need. I don’t need to feel confident in myself, because if confidence came from how I feel about myself, then a little bit of lipstick would do the trick. Just throw a few more rubber bands on. But being classy isn’t going to cut it. My confidence needs to be in Christ. My boasts are only in Him and the work that He has done. Through my weakness and insufficiency, I—and others—can see His mighty hand at work in the life of someone so undeserving and inadequate as I.