Lent Reflections: Community and Individuality

"Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters." Matthew 12: 30

A few years ago at college, the careers advisors make you take this test... the Meyer's Briggs test, and it sorts out your personality and suits you for different professions. It gives you a run down of how introverted or extroverted you are, whether you Think or Perceive, etc. It places people into boxes of personalities. Some personalities are more common than others, but all of these personality traits exist on a sliding scale... Someone might be more extroverted or introverted or more of a thinker or less of a perceiver than me.

This can make life very confusing because as I got my results back many of my sliding scales were tantalizingly close to the middle... #useless.

I had flashbacks to 9th grade where the guidance counsellors gave us "tests" to determine what kind of learners we were. There were 5 kinds of learners at the time (these tests are always changing and developing) and with complete unhelpfulness, I scored high on all of them. Apparently I can learn in any way, but of course, I learn better in some ways than in others.

And so it is with life and working together and building communities and teams and families and working groups.

For a few weeks I've been feeling quite down on myself, always feeling inferior to others, and, hence, that I won't be liked, approved of, or befriended. It's probably nonsense, and I don't tell you about this to gain pity or sympathy, but to explain the interesting journey I've been on.

You see, as I feel like others will not be happy with me, I've moved away from people, isolating myself. I haven't even consciously done it, it was all quite innocent, until I realised I was waiting days to respond to people's texts and spending far too much time choosing something to wear, only to pull on something scrubby, convinced that I'd be dismissed and ignored no matter how I looked.

I took myself out of the community for reasons completely unfounded and imaginary...

Like God often does when He's refining us, He's been telling me some truths about myself, healing my heart, and washing me... But something I've been discerning the past few months is the verse above: "Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters." Jesus didn't really care about teams or clubs, He cared about the heart. He cared about motivations and your secret treasure, the things you long for and care about which no one knows. The power of God comes from our hearts, not our skills or virtues.

Often, I see people get caught up in "the way they do things" or "they're style", which is all well and good, a great design can go a long way. But design can't replace a good heart. There isn't one way to do anything, and if we think there is, we're incredibly limiting ourselves. I used to be like this. Things had to be a certain way, or it wasn't ok... it just wasn't.

My housemate has been an incredible cause of joy the past few months. She's vibrant and at the same time can be incredibly smooth and subtle and careless and willy-nilly. We've become baking friends and I've never once seen her use a recipe. She just tosses things in the bowl and they turn out delicious. Method, methinks, is not her forte. But it doesn't seem to matter! And I'm trying desperately to learn this, not because I judge people and think they are worse than me, but quite the opposite--because I'm convinced that I'll never do anything so well as other people, and so I hide from them.

Yes, I smile and I show up, but a lot of the time, it's a facade and some of the real Jenny mixed in for authenticity. I feel a tiredness when I see people because I have to keep the face on. I have to love them and be there for them. I can't let them love me. I can't show any weaknesses. I can't be vulnerable. I can't show them who I really am because I am convinced, down in the heart of my hearts, that they wouldn't like me.

When you are content to be simply yourself and don't compare or compete, everybody will respect you. ~ Lao Tzu

I have a bookmark with this quote on it that I've had since high school. For a long time, I felt like having a haughty indifference was the answer to this... but I was so wrong.

Then, a few years later, in college, I thought if I was smarter than everyone, it would be the answer... but I was still wrong. I remember thinking of certain students as so clever and inspiring and how I would never be like that. One day, I was talking to someone and she mentioned how I was one of the "cool English majors"... was I? And for a moment I was overjoyed at how amazing it seemed that I'd been given membership into this great status club, and the second I just realized how horrible it sounded that there were "cool" and then of course "not cool" English majors...

I didn't want to be an elite... I wanted community, where everyone could bring their ideas to the table and hash them out... it's the hashing out of it that's fun.

I've been writing and editing some manuscripts I'm working on and every so often this deep pit of artistic funk creeps over me. I'm convinced that nothing I write will ever be inspiring or witty or truthful or meaningful... ever. So what's the point?

But the more I pray, the more God tries to convince me: "You don't need a masters degree or an MFA. You don't need the praise of others. You just need to WRITE and LOVE."

Because deep down, I want admiration and praise, more than just the satisfaction of my art, my community... I want praise. Something deep down wants to be better, smarter, faster, tougher... and the rest of me just wants to be loved. So I throw the mess of myself down at the feet of Jesus and He smiles benevolently, pats my head, and says: "REST. I am with you. Rest truly, and WRITE and LOVE. I will take care of the rest."

So here I am, a ball of mess, trying to be myself, trying to love my various communities, trying to let myself open up, and trying to rest. Oh how much striving have I undertaken under the delusion that nothing I do will succeed!

So here I am, still at His feet, unravelling the mess of my mind and my heart this Lenten season, and I hope my journey will also do you some good.