I'll be the first to admit that I'm pretty darn tough on myself-- for most of my life I've held so tightly on to keeping it all together that I all but fall apart when things don't go my way. I read today that "fear is the enemy of transparency (pg. 91)". We fear failure, we fear rejection, we fear what people will think if they see the real us. You know… the messy, unscripted, unfiltered, sometimes downright ugly version of the person who tries desperately to keep things together. You know you have a problem when you won't post a picture to Instagram where your "arm looks fat" or without moving your coffee two inches to the right so it's perfectly centered in the frame. It's insane. And when you marry someone who takes PERFECT photos of even the most ordinary things you finally realize that it's too hard to try to keep up the facade-- you actually start to miss the imperfections that used to drive you bananas. My solution? A silly surface level reaction- a random photo without makeup here, a messy room in background there, or a ridiculous selfie while pumping iron and wearing a tacky Christmas sweater with Keds. Nothing revolutionary here, kids. Just trying to not take things so seriously.
But the problem is that we don't just fight this battle on the surface level. It's more of a heart issue. It's not so easy for people to post about heart-level issues. Disclaimer: I have some friends who are GREAT at this: they'll post a photo of a messy day of parenting and explain about the craziness that ensued that day. And then other friends who will pour their hearts out over tough things going on in their lives and the people around them. These are my "keep-it-real" friends. You might call them over-posters, or find annoyance in such mundane things, but I find their transparency quite encouraging. That's the point. Ever wonder WHY they seem to be bragging about their problems? News flash: They’re not bragging about their crying children and burned dinner, and they’re not seeking your pity! It takes courage to share the hard moments; they require a level of vulnerability that we're not comfortable exposing. But it’s actually very liberating.
For the sake of building my case here, I've made a list of some of the first issues that came to mind that I generally would NOT share on a social platform:
-The fact that I struggle with anxiety. That despite my hardest attempts to avoid medication for years, I finally chose to seek medical attention after my scariest episode caused my arm to spasm uncontrollably for hours on end. And that when I finally started sharing this issue that I used to feel so much shame towards, I realized I could help encourage other people who felt ostracized by such struggles.
-That oftentimes when I feel sad I convince myself (against all actual wisdom) that shopping or food will make me feel better.
-That before I met my husband I was convinced that nobody would truly love or accept me just the way I am (praise God that was not true!)
-That I've visited someone I love dearly in prison, and continue to feel a social stigma preventing me from speaking publicly about someone I believe was wrongfully accused.
- That I feel insanely selfish and at times have felt unworthy in my marriage of only four weeks. Yes, you heard that right. I’ve been unemployed since moving to Arkansas, which has not been something I am proud to announce day after day when people ask what I do. And while I threw a pity party for myself one day this week, he went to work, came home, and made ME dinner to try to encourage me. Heart check on serving others? This should’ve been mine…*insert emoji with clenched teeth and wide eyes*
Something that really convicted me was Kyle Idleman’s reminder that you will “[live] the blessed life when you stop… trying to convince people you’re something different than you are” (pg. 91). In his book The End of Me he addresses and reveals how some of the paradoxical teachings of Jesus, although countercultural and counterintuitive, “Will show us that blessings begin and fulfillment is found in the least likely place- the end of ourselves” (pg. 15). We can’t get to the end of ourselves if our only focus is our self. When every thought is about our next meal, our next purchase, our next accomplishment or item on our to-do list. Ready for this gut-punch? Idleman is about to put us on the same page as the Pharisees. Actually, let’s be real…we put ourselves there. “Jesus criticized the religious leaders because they were consumed by appearances” (pg. 96). If we’re being honest with ourselves, for many of us, this hits pretty close to home. If we weren’t consumed with appearances we wouldn’t try to control every aspect of how we’re seen and perceived by the world around us. I can admit to this being one of my greatest struggles.
1 Samuel 16:7 states that “people look at outward appearances, but the Lord looks at the heart”. This resonated with me because it made me realize that no matter how many people we can fool with our outward appearances, we can’t fool anyone with a heart that’s not in the right place. We want our inside and outside to line up, and sometimes that means we have to stop hiding our messes. Let me explain what my idea of messes are: they can be issues of embarrassment, they can be personal defeats or struggles, they can be sin, they can be anything we would not promote to others, regardless of how much it is currently affecting our heart. What if our messes, our insecurities, our struggles led to blessings? What if we stopped and realized that instead of hiding our real life problems, we could share them and help others who are going through similar situations. Idleman asks, “how many blessings have I missed out on, not because I wasn’t capable, but because I wasn’t vulnerable?” (pg. 189).
I enjoyed the author’s review of characters from the bible in relation to this concept of purity of heart (Pharisee vs. Prostitute’s reaction to serving Jesus in Luke 7:36-50, who is invited vs. who shows up to the great banquet in Luke 14:16-24, and the sick man at the healing pool in John 5:1-15), but it is clear that the greatest example of what it means to come to the end of yourself is found in the most radical example of grace we know—Christ Jesus. As the holidays approach, we can’t help but think of Jesus’ humble beginning. “Jesus left the throne room of heaven for the landfill slum of earth. He gave up perfection for brokenness and pain” (pg. 25). But this is only the beginning of his life of selflessness and servitude. It doesn’t matter how many times I read about Jesus’ life; every single time I’m struck by the concept that he chose to endure hardship, persecution and unjust penalties while SERVING and honoring even those who he knew would betray him. Idleman concisely makes this point in saying “Jesus fully understood his divine identity. He knew he was God, and he knew that all power in heaven and earth was his to command. And with this understanding, he allowed himself to be betrayed, to be taken, beaten, mocked, given a farce of a trial, and crucified. As he knew his status was the highest, he took up the lowest road, the most humble posture. He proceeded to wash the feet of a man who had arranged for his death” (pg. 200).
I would urge you to buy this book if this concept of coming to the end of us resonates with anyone else; I’ll be sharing my copy with one of my sisters. Prior to starting this book, my younger sister, Meredith, offered one of her favorite verses as encouragement to another believer who requested prayer over surrendering her heart and letting go of selfish wants and worldly desires. Meredith shared Matthew 7:13-14: “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life and only a few find it”. When I sat down to read the intro to this book I had to take a snapshot of the text that alluded to this very passage so I could send it to those individuals; I realized I struck gold in picking up a book that I very much needed to read. And I’ll leave you with the moment of clarity I came to at the end of the book when everything tied together beautifully relating to this concept of ‘the end of me’: “Jesus was at the end of his ministry, the end of his earthly life, the end of himself, but he knew he was at the beginning of something that changed everything. At the end of death and suffering and sacrifices comes the beginning of Resurrection” (pg. 205).