Not What They Appear -- Hope Chronicles 38

Several years ago I lived in Bloomington, Indiana. I was on staff with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship and struggling a bit to make ends meet on my own. A family offered to have me live in their basement. I paid some rent and supplemented this with helping with the kids. We opted to try it for six months but it worked so well that it lasted three years!

When I first moved in, they were in the process of putting in a bathroom in the basement. Until it was done, I used the guest bathroom upstairs. One night I got up to use the bathroom. Not wanting to wake anyone, I walked in the dark and didn't flip the light on until I reached my destination. "Silly, cat!" I whispered and then -- in terror -- I slammed the door! It had clicked in my sleepy mind that the tail I saw protruding from behind the toilet was ringed rather than pure grey.

I knocked on Jerry and Dana's door and announced that there was a raccoon in the bathroom. Neither believed me and told me that it was the cat. I insisted that Jerry check. Sure enough, there was a raccoon now caught in the bathroom!

The shape was right from behind. The coloring was right. It just took me a moment to notice that the tail was a bit off and things were not what they appeared.

After reading some antics that happened at Amy's "In My Life" site involving reptiles in the toilet, it got me thinking about that night. As I've thought about it, I've pondered how often things are not as they appear: physically, emotionally, relationally, and spiritually.

Physically

We all know there is no such thing as magic and that magicians use slight of hand to make us think we're seeing something we're not. (But it is still amazing and I so wish I could learn the quarter out of the ear trick.) Just like magicians, we make things in our lives look differently than they are:

• Hiding things in the closet when company comes
• Plucking the offending gray hair
• Putting on our faces
• Acting as though things are one way when they aren't

In the animal kingdom, I can think of two things start out very differently than what they will become: the fuzzy caterpillar and the ugly duckling. Maybe I should make that three because scripture teaches that even we aren't what we will one day be. No, I don't mean the aging process we fight so hard.

Emotionally

I think most of us put on fronts. We pretend we are doing better than we actually are. We smile when we feel like crying. If someone asks how we are it is a "Great!" or "Fine!" We tell ourselves and others that this or that hurt, slight, or disappointment, doesn't matter anyway.

Relationally

Even here we can pretend that things are different than they actually are. We pretend we aren't angry or hurt when we are. We pretend we are the best daughter or friend or wife or mother or church member . . . there ever was. We find our importance in relation to those around us rather than in relation to our heavenly Father.

Spiritually

Yes, we can pretend that we are doing better in this area than we actually are. We can quote scripture and teach Sunday school. We can make a meal for someone who is ill or just not let anyone see how closely the pastor's lesson struck home with us.

In lots of ways, we have the right shape, the right color, but deep down we know that something is off. There are rings on that tail that should be solid!

I'm rereading and thinking, "That doesn't sound very hopeful!" But there is hope in the fact that things are not what they appear. Not that we should all go pretending -- not that. Rather there is hope in knowing the end of the story even if we don't know the twists and turns that it will take to get there.

Physically, emotionally, relationally, the world seems to be in a piteous state: global warming, war, disease, school shootings, drugs, . . . . But the hope is in that it will all one day be renewed. As scripture says, even creation waits in eager expectation (Romans 8:19-21 (NIV)):

The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.

All the pretense and pretending will one day fade away. It will become clear that things are not what they appear when the glory of God shines all around. It's hidden now, but one day it won't be so. There is hope in knowing that I am not yet what I will be but I am becoming. There is hope in knowing the one who is changing me and all His creation.

While there is hope in that, the challenge of all this is letting ourselves be real with one another while we wait. In doing so, I think we might find hope in God's community. So the next time you are tempted to say "Great!" (of course unless you really are), think about if the tail is solid or has rings!

Anyway -- Hope Chronicles 37

A few weeks ago at Lisa Whittle's site, she encouraged us to share a "get real" moment. Those are the moments where we share what is really going on in our hearts and minds and souls. I thought I would share some of what I shared there and maybe elaborate a little.

My get real moment is "pretending it doesn't matter." I do this in a variety of ways. One of the quickest things to come out of my mouth is to say "I know that's stupid or silly" about something I have said or done or thought. I don't judge others this way. It never crosses my mind to do so. But with myself, it is second nature. I'm trying to watch it and not do it so often (or someday at all), but you may need to call me on it. The reason behind saying it at all is that if I say it first it might hurt less if you say it.

I don't know that I hear others say those words about themselves to the extent that I do. However, I also think that women (and probably men too) are great pretenders. We play the game of It Doesn't Matter Anyway.

In elementary school, we are not asked to play and we say, "It doesn't matter, I didn't want to jump rope anyway."

I went to exactly one dance in junior high and high school. It was in junior high and even though I didn't have friends to go and hang with, I bought the line from the teachers that it was for everyone and anyone could come and it wasn't a date kind of thing. I still remember the cafeteria being emptied of tables and chairs and the beat of the music. I think I lingered in there watching everyone dance for about an hour. I was too shy to just join in what even seemed like a group dance. I spent the next two hours sitting on the curb outside in a patch of darkness waiting for my mom to come pick me up. Though I told her I'd had loads of fun, my mantra in my head those two hours was "It doesn't matter anyway. I didn't want to dance anyway. I don't like dancing anyway." Since I had never really danced, this was pure presumption on my part.

By the time high school rolled around with "Homecoming Dances" and later the prom, I had made myself so busy running a thriving babysitting business that I could easily say, "It doesn't matter anyway that I wasn't invited. I couldn't have gone anyway. I've been booked 3 months out to sit for so and so."

It mattered to my mom that I didn't go to the prom. Even though the arrangement my parents had worked out with me was that I got a certain amount each month that I budgeted for lunches or clothes or school supplies or gas or whatever, she offered to spring for a dress for the prom my senior year. I was actually mildly amused by how seriously she took it because I was so versed in it doesn't matter anyway that going was never an option in my mind. She could take care of the dress, but it would have been a dress that hung in my closet. No group of girlfriends and certainly no boy was planning on including me. So, I told myself, "It doesn't matter anyway . . . ."

I was in chorus my sophomore year. There was a special singing group for juniors and seniors. I sang second soprano. Even though it felt like a risk, I tried out. And when I didn't make it, it confirmed the belief that I couldn't sing and that it was silly to try out and what had I been thinking and I didn't want in it anyway because it would take away from my studies and I wanted to get into a good school. I didn't want it anyway.

As an adult I have the same mantra about various things, "It doesn't matter anyway, I didn't want the house with a white picket fence and the kids would ruin the carpet anyway and a husband would drive me nuts. It doesn't matter GOD because I didn't really want all that anyway."

Or it doesn't matter anyway about that job. It doesn't matter anyway that a friend is moving because we weren't that close anyway. It doesn't matter anyway . . . .


Or sometimes I say, "Okay, I wanted all that but God, you are enough anyway" and that is a pretend too. I say it because it sounds more Christian and accepting.

But when I pretend in whatever way, I wall off bits of my heart. While I shouldn't wallow in things, when I pretend -- or perhaps lie -- to God and others that it doesn't matter anyway, I squash hope. I forget to let myself dream. I close myself off to possibilities. I refuse any comfort because who needs comforting when it doesn't matter anyway? Squashing hope and dreams is spirit deadening because it limits life to what is immediately before you and it forgoes any real communication with God about what is really going on.

God would rather hear me say, "I want it all -- the kids, the husband, the dog, the in laws everyone complains about, the very best friend I can call at 2:00 AM. And God I know you are suppose to be ENOUGH, but sometimes I want it so and it doesn't feel like you are enough." When I'm honest to say that, He invites me on his lap and tells me He knows and reminds me that He is enough but it is okay to have those feelings. They are longings He built in me. And He invites me to wait a little longer to see what He will do -- not a promise that all those things will come the way I think they will but how He might use hands, my life, my heart and meet me in a way I can never imagine.

It is best not to pretend those things don't matter anyway because when I pretend like that, I wall off my heart and do not let Him comfort me. And I risk falling into the pit of doubt that says He is holding out on me, keeping back the best. But God doesn't do that. He knows it all matters. He wants to hold all the things of my heart. But He needs to be free to meet all those dreams in anyway He chooses. I need to trust that any which way life goes, God has my best interest at heart.