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Sunday, March 10, 2013

Who are you created to be?

           I was recently invited to participate in a scholarship competition at North Park University in Chicago. On that blustery Friday morning, as I entered the chapel sipping my tea, I chose a seat next to a group of three girls and as I sat down, I struck up a conversation. "Hi I'm Beth," I said - though a small gesture, it seemed to be the action needed to break down the barriers between these girls sitting in silence. We began to chat, and I noticed that one of the girls seemed a little irritated at my efforts to be friendly. The conversation continued; one girl asked me what class I had signed up to attend that afternoon. I responded, and another girl said, "Oh, what building is that in?" "Hmmm... good question," I thought, "I'm not sure, I didn't write it down. I'm sure they'll tell us where to go when the time comes."
            This seemed to trigger something in that first girl who I had earlier noticed. She began to talk about how she was being careful to write down everything, and she even printed out a map online the night before so that the professors would see that she was responsible. One aspect of this scholarship competition was that various professors and recruiters would be observing our interactions in discussion and panel sessions. So this girl continued, mentioning how she carefully selected an outfit that was professional, yet appeared to be something she would wear on an average day, trying to convey that she dressed business casual on a day to day basis. I mentally laughed at her comments, sure that her mother or father had thoroughly prepared her for this day.
            A few minutes later, a stately older man approached us, and shook our hands while introducing himself by name. The girl's entire demeanor changed when the man entered the conversation. Suddenly she was enchanting, all smiles, and trying to dominate the conversation. She asked if he was a professor and he asked us to guess what his job was. "University president!" I guessed, then followed it by saying, "or at least a history professor." After all the girls threw around a couple of guesses, he told us that he was, in fact, the president of the University.
            He continued to chat with us, asking each of us where we were from. When I told him outside of Philadelphia, his interest was piqued and he asked what town exactly. Lansdale, it turns out, was a familiar name to this man. He informed me that his son, daughter in law, and two grandchildren lived in Wayne. "Wayne!" I exclaimed, "I know exactly where that is! I've been lost there. Can't ever forget a place when you've driven around it aimlessly trying to find your way home." He laughed and offered me his son's phone number in case I should ever get lost again. I told him that I should probably take it because getting lost is not an entirely uncommon occurrence for me. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, he moved on to greet other prospective students.
            The girl seemed quite sullen about the fact that I got more of the President's time, and shortly after he walked away she said, "Wow I never would've brought up the fact that I get lost a lot." She seemed even more bitter when he later mentioned in his opening address that he met a student who lived near his son!
            We were later split into groups of about 10-15 and each group was taken to a conference room with a professor who introduced a thought provoking topic, and sat back to observe our group discuss it. As I sat in my group, I noticed how hard so many people seemed to be trying. I could tell how hard some were trying to bring Jesus and faith into the conversation, and how hard others were trying to just say anything at all, even when they were speaking up just to say, "I agree with him." As we moved to another conference room for a new session, I was talking to a couple of kids, and one boy said, "I'm just more of a listener, you know? So I'm forcing myself to talk and to think of things to say, and it's just really hard."
            The world is filled with people like this - people who are experts at shape shifting. They can be whatever you want them to be: loud, quiet, demure, flirtatious. assertive, agreeable. They are experts at determining what you want, and being that person. We are a society of people pleasers, teaching our kids to manipulate and deceive, teaching that they must act a certain way to please certain people and they must act a different way to please other people, but it is absolutely essential that we please everyone.
            This leaves me wondering who the people I met that Friday really are. What does that girl actually wear on a day to day basis? How mature and prepared is she with her friends? How does that boy actually interact with people? What does he think of while he's listening to others? I met many facades that day, when what I really wanted to meet was other students. These kids were convinced that who they really are isn't good enough. They have to be what the recruiters want, because their authentic selves won't earn them a scholarship. Meanwhile, I'm sure the admissions counselors are tired of meeting student after student who are all the same.
            There are studies showing that one of the traits most valued by young people is authenticity. Kids want somebody who's real, because somebody who is real is somebody who can be trusted. They aren't going to be one person at school and a totally different person at church. You can rely on them to stay constant, and genuine. You can know what to expect from them because they are open about their flaws, and their good traits are real, not fabricated to impress somebody.
            It's not just kids who crave this realness, the whole world is searching for people who simply are. Saint Catherine of Sienna once said, "Be who you were created to be, and you will set the world on fire." There is something magnetic about genuine people: something both free and freeing. Their lights shine so brightly, others can't help but come to see, and somehow, one person being just who they are gives permission for others to do the same until slowly but surely, the world is lit by the flames of millions. The world needs these people and their radiance, unabashed honesty, and truth. Despite the lies that we are fed, the lies that say that our true self isn't good enough, attractive enough, smart enough, driven enough, we believe deep down that we are enough, but we are simply too afraid to be that person for fear that the lies will be true. To be who we were really created to be means living bravely, knowing that we will be criticized, and that some of the lies may be true, but that we are still entirely loveable and worthy regardless. We have to live in the light, and share the flame with others, rather than hiding who we are in the darkness.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Some things I love

Here are a few things just to share while I'm jumping back on the blog boat!


For some reason this really just connects with my heart. I relate to parts of the poem, and feel inspired by others. "If you can't see anything beautiful about yourself then get a better mirror, look a little closer, stare a little longer"




I need Jesus. (Found this gem via Pinterest... feel free to follow me http://pinterest.com/bcurtis97/pins/ )





Jesus we need you.


Oh and one other thing - I've become a Monkee... Not gonna lie, it feels a little bit like a cult, but if you haven't read her yet, you have to start following Glennon Melton over at Momastary. She's the bomb, and she's legit. 
http://momastery.com/blog/


Until we meet again dear friends (I promise I'll be back sooner!)
Your dearest,
Beth

Who Am I?


This is a piece that I wrote for our school's student publication, the DockuNet. I really do love it though, and still fully believe these things!



Like many other theater fanatics, I packed into a large theater on Christmas evening to watch the beloved classic, Les Miserables. I loved it. It’s in situations such as these that I wish the English language had more versions of the word love so that I could express my enthusiasm accurately. I adored it. Warning: this article contains a number of spoilers!

Among the numerous themes in the movie, all equally meaningful, was the concept of identity and self. Jean Valjean, the story’s protagonist, served 19 years of hard labor as punishment for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his hungry sister and her child.  When his jail sentence is up, the inspector, Javert, comes to explain the conditions of his parole and, frankly, to intimidate and belittle him. Javert refers to Val Jean as 24601, his identity as a prisoner, and Valjean responds, “No! My name is Jean Valjean.”  It is the beginning of a long journey for Valjean to attempt to erase his identity of a dangerous convict and become a respected man once again.

Once released, Valjean finds it impossible to secure a job and a home because everyone knows he was a prisoner and shuns him. The only person who shows him trust and kindness, a priest, is the same person he steals from in order to survive. This priest shows him forgiveness and grants him amnesty on the conditions that he take the silver and use it to become an honest man.

This act of grace and kindness causes Valjean to reconsider everything that he is.  In his soliloquy, “What Have I Done,” he sings, “They gave me a number and murdered Valjean when they chained me and left me for dead, just for stealing a mouthful of bread. Yet why did I allow that man to touch my soul and teach me love? He treated me like any other. He gave me his trust, he called me his brother…  He told me that I have a soul…  And I stare into the void, to the whirlpool of my sin, I’ll escape now from the world, from the world of Jean Valjean. Jean Valjean is nothing now, another story must begin!” And with this song, he tears up his parole papers, and officially becomes a new man, making Jean Valjean, prisoner 24601, disappear, for what he thought was forever. He becomes a new man, an honest, benevolent, kind man.

Later though, his identity as 24601 returns to haunt him as he again comes face to face with Inspector Javert.  Valjean learns though that Javert has arrested another man who he thinks is 24061, and this innocent man will be sentenced to the hard labor that belongs to Valjean. Again, Valjean must confront the question, Who am I? Am I a man that can allow this to happen? Am I a man that deserves punishment for creating a better life? In the song, “Who am I,” he asks, “Who am I? Can I condemn this man to slavery, pretend I do not feel his agony? My soul belongs to God I know, I made that bargain long ago, he gave me hope when hope was gone, he gave me strength to carry on. Who am I? I’m Jean Valjean. Who am I? 24601.”

This is what was fresh in my mind as I listened to Robin Dean return to speak in Chapel the day we returned from winter break. One of her “epiphanies” after leaving this place was about the way that we allow ourselves and others to limit and define people, and especially how much this occurs in high school. She isso right, and I’ve been looking around lately and noticing all the labels and lies that we allow to define who we are and what we do.  Labels aren’t always negative though. Sometimes we think they help explain who we are: I’m a theater kid, I play sports, I sing, I’m good at school. These are all valid talents, but the problem in turning them into labels is that suddenly they become walls that keep us back. They separate us from one another. They keep us from discovering new gifts and talents.

When I was in elementary school, I played sports, numerous sports. I played soccer and softball and did gymnastics. For me, it was always more about the social aspect of the sports, not the love of the game or drive to win. When I reached middle school I discovered that at my large public school, I couldn’t dabble in everything. I had to pick an area and focus on it in order to thrive. I had to be the best at something to have a place. So I gave up sports quite willingly and became involved in organized theater and music. I found my love for singing, and discovered that I had a talent for it. I made the cut for various groups and enjoyed building relationships in these new groups of people. I willingly labeled myself as a “theater kid” and “choir kid” and that was that.

Labels are sometimes like a safety blanket. We can wrap ourselves in them and feel secure and protected when in reality there is nothing standing between us and the things of which we are afraid. We think that labels equal belonging, but it’s not always true. We think that labels give us acceptance and confidence, but they don’t. Regardless of what we label ourselves, the fears are just as real. Labels aren’t strong enough to hold back our fears of rejection and loneliness and brokenness. Labeling yourself as perfect doesn’t mean you actually are.

When I transfered  to Dock as a sophomore, I found that things were a lot different socially. There was no group of “theater kids” for me to belong to. Being into choir didn’t grant me access into any special group – everybody sang around here. My labels didn’t do me any good, so I dropped them. During the last three years, I’ve picked up and dropped a number of labels, some I like; some I hate. I’ve watched others pick up the labels that I dropped and cling to them for dear life. It makes me jealous and sad that I chose to give up those labels, but ultimately I’m on a journey towards allowing myself the freedom to be who I am without limiting myself with these definitions of what I’m good at, what I can do, and who I can be friends with.

Because I haven’t done sports in so long, I’ve often allowed myself to take on the label of un-athletic.  For sure, I am out of practice at least, and when playing soccer for example, with people who have played all their lives, I certainly can’t compare, but I realized again recently that I’m far from being un-athletic.  On a recent youth retreat, we were playing volleyball, and one of my friends commented, “Wow, you’re actually not bad at this.” The year before I had allowed that label to define me so much and people to joke about me being so unskilled, that I chose not to play, or got anxious and played badly when I did jump in. Finally this year, with just me and a couple friends and a bunch of freshmen that I didn’t know, I just played and it turns out that I can play.  As I look back on my life I see, over and over again, opportunities where I chose to sit out and watch because I thought I couldn’t play. I see soccer games with Touring Choir, in Europe and in Ohio, where I chose to sit and watch. I see Staff In Training games at Spruce Lake where I chose not to play volleyball or compete with my tent of 12-year old girls in floor hockey because I thought I couldn’t play. I see sophomore gym where I would get so anxious because I didn’t know anybody and I was forced to bare my poor unathletic self to these strangers.  I see so much wasted energy and untapped joy. All this time, I could’ve played, but I allowed others to label me because I followed one path and not another.

I remember talking to my mom last year about a frustration with Advanced Math and just saying, “I am so not a math person!”  She pointed out to me that I’ve never done badly in math. I’ve always gotten A’s, always understood it – I just often don’t enjoy it. There’s a difference.  I labeled myself and it definitely affected the way that I acted. It affected the attitude that I brought to math and affected my reactions to frustration and not understanding something. 

We live in a world that is constantly trying to label us, define us, box us in, limit us. The world says, “This is who you are.  Now stand here, don’t change and don’t move.”  And what is  the worst part? The worst part is that we willingly agree and stand where we belong. Then we stay there, and we look around and see others standing in their corners, and somehow they just seem too far away… too far to talk to or laugh with or be friends with. We all spend our lives looking around at people we could and would be friends with, if we just had more in common, and we never make a move. Like obedient children, we stand in our corner and stay comfortable.  Meanwhile, the entire beautiful and precious world is happening just outside of our corner.

We miss all the important things by staying where we are.  Comfort zones are fatal. We just can’t allow this anymore. No more labels, no more definitions, no more walls between us. After all, we are all one in Christ Jesus! Jesus came to destroy these labels. He was very clear that we have to love one another to survive. We can’t spend the rest of our lives standing on the sidelines because we were told we “can’t play.”  The big secret is that you don’t have to be beautiful or smart or athletic or funny to play.  Playing the game will make you those things.  Come just as you are. Drop the labels that you cling to. Destroy the walls keeping you in. And run towards the game. Run!  We just don’t have the time to waste on wishing and wanting. The reality is that you aren’t safe. You may think it, you may feel it; you may think that you find acceptance and protection where you are, but you don’t. The only way to escape these fears of rejection and loneliness and brokenness is to be rejected, be lonely, be broken, and embrace these things in other people. We aren’t perfect people.  Rather, we are a people made perfect by the beautiful love and grace of our perfect God.

Catharsis

I recently wrote a letter to a friend of sorts, and it felt good to write, and I feel like it explains so much of my heart and my life lately




I'm lost G. I don't know how I got here or how to get out. I don't see an end to this darkness, and I don't know how to get to daylight. I feel so alone, so achingly lonely, like it could actually crush me. I'm consumed with bitter jealousy - I just can't break out of this awful cycle of comparison with a friend, and it's destroying me. I know who I am, but I don't know how to be that person. I don't know how or when I stopped feeling satisfied that who I am and how I act were aligned. I am so tired. So completely and utterly exhausted. I can sleep for hours at any time and still feel tired. More than feeling tired, I feel drained and empty.

I just love everyone around me so much that it hurts sometimes, but I don't know how to express that anymore. I'm terrified that this is who I am now, and that this will be the rest of my life. I'm terrified that I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life, because as much as I love others, I don't feel like I can be loved in return. My mind tells me that I am loved, but my heart can't believe it. I know that others won't show me love the same way that I show them, but dammit I just want for once somebody to be as considerate of me as I always am of them. I want to be loved more. I want someone to realize that I'm not ok, and I don't know how to get "ok" again.

Last year I loved this guy, and I really mean loved. He was my very best, tell everything to, friend for two years, and I realize that it doesn't sound very long, but really that is 1/8 of my entire life, so it was pretty significant. Finally we dated for 8 beautiful and heartbreaking months, and it was just as good as all the songs said. My heart was full and I sang and danced and laughed and felt safe and loved and secure in who I was. He whispered all the things that my heart wanted to hear for so long, and I believed all these things. I believed him when he said that I was compassionate and Christ-like, loving and beautiful. I accepted these things and my heart opened so wide. And then he walked away and said it was all a mistake, he should've never said he loved me, he didn't know what love even is. All of those truths that I soaked up were actually lies? My heart knew that it wasn't true, but I believed it anyway and suddenly I could no longer be those things. I pulled away, I began letting people down, I hated myself. I just withdrew further and further into myself and nobody noticed. And then I realized that nobody noticed that anything was wrong, and I felt so very alone, and still do. There are a couple people who I've come so close to unloading everything to, but I always stop just short of sharing my pain. I don't want to burden anybody else, and in the grand scheme of things, my pain is so small and insignificant. My life is so privileged and blessed, and I feel stupid thinking that I have this big awful pain, but it sure feels like it.

I have so many wonderful friends surrounding me, but I am paralyzed with fear when it comes to asking any of them for help. I don't know how to ask, I don't want to bother them. I'm afraid to ask people to make time for me even though I make so much time for them. I'm afraid that I'm going to discover that I'm not worth it to them. In my head, I have these conversations over and over again, bits and pieces of conversations where I say exactly what I need to and they hold me while I cry, but I just can't do it in real life, and I want to in the worst way, but I'm just so afraid. I've always been the brave one, but I don't know how to do this. And I love God, don't get me wrong, but I never understand how people talk about handing their troubles over to God and it being all better. It sounds like a nice figurative statement, but in reality I need people. I need some people to love me, and share some of God's love with me. 

There's so much more I wanted to say in this, but I just can't remember everything. I guess I'll get through this by just continuing to get up every day and face life. It's so hard though, and I just hide this pain inside because it's so complicated to understand and the only one who it would be easy to talk about this too walked away last summer. I even hate how I'm coping. I am on Facebook so much, it's honestly ridiculous G, but when I'm feeling numb I just scroll through and see things from my friends and sometimes it makes me smile and sometimes it brings the pain back but either way I do it so much. And then I hate how I'm on it so much compared to my friends, the ones who have everything together, and despite confessing perfectionism, continue to strive for perfection in everything and hiding anything that's not perfect and positive. Well, and I also listen to Mumford and Sons music compulsively but who could blame me for that?

Much love,
Beth