There is something to be said
about getting kicked in the teeth.
I
mean, nobody wants that to happen but oh the lessons you learn. Nothing stings
like not seeing it coming. Trusting with your whole heart only to be punched in
the gut with betrayal, disappointment or maybe just flat out rejection.
With all
the good lessons learned—the ones you reason with your head—also comes the
natural conclusions you draw and believe in your heart. The agreements you make
with yourself deep down in the dark corners of your soul that take root and
become beliefs about yourself, others and about the way love works.
The heart
develops something like a natural flinch that whispers “I’ve been down this
road and guess what? I’m not going through that again."
What the mouth speaks
about it’s all good and what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, the soul
harbors another story and I’m finding it’s very often the one that governs our
future actions.
Loving people and opening up can hurt and so the wounded part
pleads to play it safe. Closed. Unattached. Protected.
These days I find myself
with a rather toothless grin constantly weighing these two paths—the risky path
of loving vs. the safe way of isolation.
I hate these are on continuous scales
of my heart, weighing the risk of engaging. But if I’m honest with myself, my
biggest temptation is to retreat. Withdrawal. Protect myself from rejection. But
I have to be equally honest and say truly it is one of my deepest needs—to be
fully open and vulnerable with another person and loved completely for it,
perhaps in spite of it.
When I bring all this into the throne room of grace
and ask God to shed some light on this dark and difficult place, I hear the
truth.
It hurts either way.
My perceived way of safety, isolation and control
may prevent others from hurting me, but in a sense I’m really hurting myself.
Sure, I’m saving myself from the hurt other people might inflict, but I’m also
separating myself from something I was created to do—love others. And let
others love me. That’s why lonely hurts so bad.
If it’s true that both paths
involve hurting, then really I can choose my poison. There is some serious
freedom that comes with that.
But there is something else. Something more at
stake that is bigger than my feelings, my heart or even my choices. I hear Him
whisper,
My glory is at stake here.
In
every decision I make to open up instead of shutdown, to be vulnerable instead
of prideful, to love instead of protect my self, I’m displaying God’s image. In my choice to keep loving despite the risks, I’m
reflecting His character. God
says we look most like Him when we love like Him. (1 John 4:7-12)
Who could understand
my dilemma better? When faced with it,
He did not choose the road that leads to safe, pretty packaged life all tied up
with ribbons and bows. He didn’t choose self-protection or self-preservation
because life is hard and doesn’t play fair. He chose the hard, suffering,
painful path that landed Him on a cross. He bled and died and has the battle
scars to prove it. He chose love and He keeps on choosing it.
How thankful I am that He didn’t retreat because loving
people is hurtful. It makes me see my battle wounds in a different light. Jesus
was shot down in a blaze of glory. Painful yes, but effective and powerful and
life altering for the whole world.
This is my theme song now as I weigh the
paths—thank you Bon Jovi! Sure, I could play it safe, retreat and live in my
protective bubble. Alone. Sidelined. Ineffective.
Or I could—queue the music—go
down in a blaze of glory, yes taking on some serious wounds. But along with
those scars, I’ve got some glorious stories of transformation—my own and
others—and some incredible experiences of living out my God given opportunity
to reflect His glory in this world. To be used by Him even if it
ends painfully, knowing that my feeble attempts to love are met with God’s
power to accomplish His plan.
If I’m going down either way and I have a choice
in the matter, I want to go down in a blaze of love. A blaze of glory.
In each seemly insignificant relational
quandary, there lurks the opportunity to be on fire for God in this world. His
heart. His purposes. His glory. I think my question is do I want to be in the
battle or nursing my wounds on the sidelines? The choice is always mine.
Hurt
is along both paths. His glory is only along one.
I’m thankful He overlooks my
superficial desire for easy and safe and invites me to join Him in the risky, messy
business of loving people.
It’s worth the risk.
