identity exercise: heart for hurting and weak

 

A heart for the hurting and the weak...is this compassion?  Empathy?  Kindness?  Gentleness?

A few years ago, a friend told me that I was not compassionate enough.  That if I just said things to her "this way" then I wouldn't make her feel so ashamed.  

So for a long time now, I've thought that I am not a compassionate person, that kindness is something I need to develop.  That I'm a sledgehammer rather than a gentle hand.  It was another thing I hated about myself and berated myself for.

I remember once as a little girl, my mom and I were in the grocery store line behind a First Nations lady.  I had $5 burning a hole in my pocket, and I was eyeing the checkout bounty in anticipation.    But the woman in front of us didn`t have didn't have enough money for her her groceries and I ended up near tears. I whispered to my mom that I wanted to give my money to the woman, and my mom whispered back that it was ok, but that I should know she had probably spent her money on alcohol and that`s why she didn`t have enough.  I did not care, didn`t understand why that was even a factor.  The woman need groceries.  Maybe she had kids and they would be hungry.  I shyly handed her my money and left the store with my mom with a deep feeling that what I had done was the right thing.

Remembering that incident, I realize that having a heart for the hurting and weak is a true statement about me.  The problem is, I often see/hear people wailing their woes and want to tell them to suck it up.  Maybe that has to do with the fact that discernment is high in my spiritual gifts inventory.  The thing about my friend who spoke of my lack of compassion was, I always felt led to speak the bald truth to her without beating around the bush, not in a mean way, but without mincing words.  I felt that she wanted but didn't need coddling.  But with others, I have felt led to be gentler, kinder, to show more patience.  

Another thing I've noticed is that in my fragile mental state, I have less bandwidth to engage.  I've thought that it meant I was callous and uncaring, but maybe not.  Maybe it means that I feel others' pain deeply, but I am often unable to do more than send a groan to God.  The sorrow and injustice in the world moves me to a darker place when I'm already struggling to stay with the light, a place closer to despair and hopelessness.  

So do I have a heart for the weak and hurting?  Yes, coupled with discernment and fragility.  All these are good things about my identity, even the fragility.  I am glad that I can enter into someone else's pain with them, glad to offer quiet presence in the dark places.  I think discernment allows me to see with clarity and avoid being drawn in where compassion isn't necessarily what someone needs.  And the fragility limits me so that I'm not trying to be all to all, because that certainly isn't healthy.  Compassion, empathy, discernment, fragility.  Gifts from God, to me, that make me who I am.  Who I am is beloved, valued, gifted, blessing.

identity exercise: courageous

I've never thought of myself as courageous.  It's in my jar several times though, since a few people mentioned it, so I guess it's time to have a look at myself and see if I can identify it in myself. 

Ok well, one way I am courageous is in travel.  When I first got married, we moved down here to the states and I was terrified to go anywhere by myself.  I didn't know the roads, I was so afraid of getting lost and being alone somewhere, not able to find my way home.  Brant worked second shift for the first two years we were married, so we'd hang out in the morning and then I'd sit at home until he got home.  I'd read and scrapbook mostly.  We didn't have a TV or computer.  I was afraid to cook for him because even though I'd had experience growing up, my self-esteem and confidence were so tanked I believed I couldn't do it.  

The first time I drove anywhere by myself, Brant encouraged me to drive him to work so I could have the car to go grocery shopping and then go back to his work so we could have supper together.  I was literally in tears.  He was so sweet; he said he knew I could do it, and he highlighted the route with pink highlighter in the big Lancaster County map book we had, explaining every step as he drew.  I think I hyperventilated the whole way home.  But I made it!

If you told my family when I was young, that I'd end up being the one with wanderlust, they'd have laughed you right out the door.  I was the most timid, careful child you could have ever met.  I was scared of everything, I was painfully shy, I was a bookworm who dove down the rabbit hole and fought against returning to real life.  I was studious in school and one of my worst elementary moments was the day I received my first C - in grade three.  When my parents wanted us to try new things, I was the most reluctant.  I was a highly sensitive wee thing, pretty much always on the verge of tears.

Occasionally a feisty side would peek out - like the time in grade three when a bully tried to beat me up and instead, heart pounding, I wrapped my hand in her long curly locks and pulled her down to the ground beside me before running away; or the time when, at 7 years old, I strongly admonished a giant grade seven boy for misbehaving and making us all wait in line outside after the recess bell.

When we moved to PA, I had no friends and a husband who was very reserved like me, and not the most relational guy in the world.  Friends came slowly.  By the time we had children, I was brave enough to have my own car and drive anywhere locally.  But as my kids got older, I wanted them to know their extended families and my husband didn't want to take the time to travel very much.  Feisty me said, "Well then, I'm going by myself!"  Glad he didn't have to go, Brant gave me his blessing and off I went.  I'd get the kids up at four in the morning and drive four hours, stop at a certain travel plaza for breakfast at McDonalds and to get the kids dressed, then hit the road and be at my mom's by noon or 1pm. I took them to my in-laws' by myself, too.

Gaining the confidence to travel by myself has been a huge blessing and a gift.  I've found myself being given multiple opportunities to travel to other countries to minister over the years.  I've been able to visit friends, attend conferences, and see places I never would have guessed I'd see.  When I look back at the fearful person I was, I realize that although I still wrestle with fear in other areas, I've been able to conquer it and become courageous when it comes to travel.  

So. yay me. :)  Courage is a gift from God and I'm pretty thankful for it.

identity exercise: spirited

 

Uh oh... spirited?  That doesn't sound positive to me.  Why would someone say that one?  When I start to get what I would call "spirited," I hate myself.  I feel like I'm obnoxious and embarrassing to people around me.  

So what does sit mean to be spirited?  Clearly, whoever gave that word to me, meant it in a positive way. Synonyms for "spirited" include animated, bold, bright, courageous, energetic, enthusiastic, fearless, fiery, gutsy, passionate, peppy, resolute, spunky, vigourous.  Interesting... courageous is another one of the words people have given me.  Passionate is definitely something I feel about some things - people usually tell me to stop yelling at them and ask me if I'm mad at them when I'm speaking with passion...

Here's the thing.  I've lived a passionless life for years.  I usually feel flatlined, with the occasional downward blip.  It's not a good life to live.  I want to be spirited, I guess.  To me, being spirited means having opinions and not being afraid to share them.  It means feeling strongly about something.  It means being fun to be around.  It means maybe being silly sometimes.  I think it's ok to have fun, to have opinions. I think it's amazing to have  desire to speak for justice.  It's good to be resolute - to decide to move forward no matter what, and to carry through.  

So I guess being spirited is a good thing.  And it's partly what makes me, me.

identity exercise: beautiful singing voice

 

This is one that I used to believe in more.  Is it a character trait?  No...but I guess it is something about me that's positive, so I'll keep it.  I used to believe in it more before Scott started telling me to stop singing in my head voice and to sing in my chest voice, and that he didn't want me to be shrill.  I had never thought of myself as shrill in music before...

Other worship leaders have told me to go ahead and sing in my head voice, that I sound great.  Maybe it's just a case of preference to some degree.  Pastor Scott has had musical training and went to school for music so I figured he knows what he's talking about, and I got pretty down on myself; one more thing that isn't so great about me.

But I hear way more feedback about my voice being lovely, so maybe I shouldn't take Pastor Scott's word as gospel.

I remember Pastor Jeff telling me that I was gifted with a beautiful voice and a heart for worship, and that my example of worship leads other to be able to worship.  I love that thought.  I really just want people to be able to feel that they are loved by God and to be able to get closer to him.  I am reading a book by Larry Crabb called Papa Prayer.  It's about approaching God relationally instead of transactionally.  I think I tend to do that already, through worship, and I long for people to be able to approach him that way too.  I don't think I'm perfect - clearly, since I've stepped away from worship team because I'm having a hard time feeling like I belong or am wanted on the team.  

I guess I'm not supposed to care about belonging or being wanted?  I'm supposed to be about worshiping Jesus, not whether I belong.  Is it really possible to go and have a pure heart of worship in an environment that feels hostile?  well duh, yes - what about Christians in prison or in hostile countries?  They manage.  Something to ponder.

Anyway.  Regardless of anyone else:  I believe that I do have a good voice.  I have loved singing since I was tiny.  And I know that I have been given an amazing gift, to be able to hear and sing harmony to almost anything - and not just one harmony, but multiple.  I love being able to sing and I'm thankful that God gave me musical ability.  It doesn't have to be the best, just my best offering.  I feel blessed.