The Surprising Grace of Friendship | Lessons On Being and Becoming
The first time Susan prayed for me, I was having an anxiety attack about a sermon I heard only as "You have to be Jesus". This sermon was delivered while I was in the middle of a struggle with depression (a condition that makes you deeply aware of the ways you are not Jesus - which makes an anxiety attack a "rational" outcome). Susan took the time to meet me the week after on a cold day in early March. I remember feeling peaceful around her. The next week was the pandemic.
The second time Susan prayed for me I told her all of my art felt like lost time. She told me she felt the Spirit move through my voice and art, and that the work I was doing was precious and vital. I told her I wanted to have a heart as gentle and kind as hers because so often I feel angry, like a forest that won't stop burning.
Susan and I do not match on paper. She is a soft-spoken grandmother who has been the leader of the prayer team in our church since I started attending 7 years ago. What we have in common is both of us often struggle to see our unique gifts. I wouldn’t have met Susan without the panic attacks, the depression, and some dreams getting crushed on pointy rocks. I wouldn't have met Susan if both of us were doing quite well enough on our own. The surprising grace of friendship exists because we have an understanding of one another's weaknesses. Over the past years I've lost friends to moves and divorces, that loss pushed me into something new.
In the Flannery O'Connor story, "Parker's Back" a boy named Obadiah is haunted by the tattooed back of a man at the fair, driving him to try to recreate his own story across his back. As he grows into a man, he marries a woman named Sarah Ruth who refers to the tattoos on his back as vanity. He falls in love with her harsh judgment of him. Eventually, his dissatisfaction with his life results in an accident which leads him to his final tattoo, a large image of Christ. Sarah Ruth calls his final tattoo an act of idolatry and throws him out of the house. The story ends with Obadiah weeping against a tree. In the wake of having her judgment stripped away, he is left with a broken heart and an unclear path forward with Christ now tattooed across his back.
When Jesus speaks about how trying to save your life will result in the loss of life, I think this is the experience He is referring to: We cling to the parts of our lives that we feel will make us matter. The desire to "matter" is human, but it also leads to deep disappointment when it turns out that our passions and our relationships remain shockingly immune to easy quantification. A person with 100 friends can be shockingly lonely. A person with one close friend can feel deeply loved. As much as we try to measure the output of our lives, the things we desire to know always remain out of reach. In Christianity this "mattering" is simply a given. It is earned by the merit of simply being.
For many of us here some of that is probably tied to receiving recognition as an artist (or maybe you were going to be a perfect spouse or a perfect parent). I'm not saying the desire is empty, but sometimes desire for an exact, specific, rational, quantifiable outcome can limit creativity, which can steal the capacity to see the unexpected. It is difficult to see clearly without the clarity of joy (which I cannot overstate enough, is a different animal than performed happiness). Sometimes the most beautiful thing about a piece of art is the thing we might mistake as a tragedy in our worst moments.
Life is a burning away of dross. In that process, you learn that you need the eyes and hearts of people who are different (you know, your neighbors). The grace of God doesn't make sense until self-salvation projects fail. This often gets defined as a one-time (Saved!) instance, but I think we do ourselves a disservice when we frame it this way. What if instead Jesus just keeps delivering us from false narratives and the process has the downside of feeling like an ongoing loss to us?
Don't Let Insecurity Own You | Embrace the Moment and Experience Joy
There is so much joy to be found when we embrace what is in front of us without casting the heavy shadow of lack over our endeavors and creativity.
I was recently asked to tutor a lady in oil painting. As I listened to my “student” list teacher after teacher who had instructed her in art, my heart sank. What could I possibly offer someone who has been painting since the 1970s? I'm just a beginner. Not adequate to teach.
She was reluctant to show me her paintings and dismissive of the things she has accomplished.
And that made me wonder.
How much of our lives do we convince ourselves that we just aren't good enough, skilled enough, smart enough, beautiful enough….when all along we are beautiful people doing beautiful things?
There is so much joy to be found when we embrace what is in front of us without casting the heavy shadow of lack over our endeavors and creativity.
My painting teacher would often make comments about my confidence. Or lack thereof. “Your brush strokes are hesitant.” She'd say, or, “I can feel the confidence in this line. Do more of that.” I hated that my lack of confidence was there in my art, naked on the canvas for anyone to see. But is that such a terrible thing?
We are, all of us, uncertain and unsure, making our way through the world with a mixture of defiance and lack.
I wonder what life would look like if I met challenges, lack, even suffering, with the calm assurance that I have everything I need in Christ Jesus. A priest, set apart by God for good works. What if I could embody the deep truth that I am the delicate and intricate workmanship of a good God? That I am His poem, formed from the Word, breathed into existence for His good pleasure. In that place of deep acceptance and belonging, not even lack and insecurity would have to be hidden because every weakness is only a testimony of His goodness.
Perhaps true strength is laying aside judgment and celebrating the paradox of frailty and strength dwelling together. This frail human frame is a gift, not a curse. Yes, everything groans until the return of our Beloved, when all will be made right. Yet, even now, in dark days, the trees of the fields clap their hands and the redeemed of the Lord sing for joy. The grass withers, but even in death, life is abundant and persistent.
When I meet my insecurities and pain, let me look at it with curiosity and even gratitude.
Wherever you are, don't retreat. Look into the face of insecurity and pain with curiosity, and yes, even gratitude. Then, standfast and see the glory of the Lord.
God Is More Interested in Your Growth Than Your Comfort
Lately, I have been thinking about things that scare me, that make me afraid. My default mode is to want to be in control, to know that somehow, I can keep myself and my family safe. But right now, I do not feel in control.
My house is being remodeled, I cannot even find my can opener. I own two dishwashers, but I do the dishes in the bath tub. My sense of control is that everything is in turmoil. That fear grows unchecked. I fear that the world will go to war, that Israel will be destroyed, that the economy will crash, that I will never find my can opener.
But, God meets us in our fear. He reminds us in I Timothy1:7 “He has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power and love and a strong mind.”
I don’t need to fear political upheaval, economic collapse, world war. He has things under control, and He most likely does not need my help.
When God teaches me lessons, it seems that He comes at me from many sources at once. I will hear a sermon, listen to a podcast, talk to a friend, all with the same lesson from diverse sources. Even secular sources.
The lesson I am dealing with is:
God is more interested in my growth in Him than my comfort and my sense of control.
I was reading an economic newsletter, of all things, when the lesson came that to grow we must have at least one area of our life where we are a creature of discomfort, where we feel awkward, inadequate, not good enough. The secular answer is that when we grow, we become more competent. But, as Christians, when we grow, we begin to rely more upon God.
The sermon this Sunday was on the Feeding of the 5000. Pastor reminded me that the people who were fed, wanted this welfare to continue – I will follow Jesus and he will give me dinner. But, Jesus told them “no” to comfort, to control and ease. Because when we have comfort, control and ease, we come to rely upon ourselves. We start to love certainty and we make this world our home.
I am reminded of the quote by Oswald Chambers, “Naturally, we are inclined to be so mathematical and calculating that we look upon uncertainty as a bad thing . . . Certainty is the mark of the common-sense life: gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means we are uncertain in all our ways, we do not know what a day may bring forth. This is generally said with a sigh of sadness, it should be rather an expression of breathless expectation.”
Perhaps the goal is gracious uncertainty. To know that my day-planner is owned by God. To know that what He wants from me is not organized control but rather sensitivity to His leading. Even when the first step is into the dark.
Amazing Grace, Acrylic Pour