“Blessed are the poor
in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn,
for they shall be comforted…” Mathew 5:3-4, and beyond. NKJV
The first verses of
Mathew 5 are known as the Beatitudes or, in plain language, supreme
blessedness. This is more than being blessed; these encouraging words are supreme blessings! Think about it! God’s
creation of the universe and all its wonders was good! These blessings are beyond good by an immeasurable,
unfathomable distance!
That’s something to
get excited about!
I’ve headed in this
direction this morning because of something someone said recently. It’s a saying
that is often shared with people who are struggling. It is a phrase meant to be
encouraging...
“Fake it ‘til you
make it.”
Last Thursday, I heard it with new ears. I heard how cruel these
words actually are.
They put a person in
a place where they cannot be true to their feelings; where being poor in spirit
or to grieve is something to be ashamed of. “Faking it” is the same as covering
ourselves with fig leaves to hide our naked pain, our vulnerability, our needs,
from other people. (Genesis 3:7)
Isolation is the
devil’s playground.
And just so you know, grief does not come with a timeline.
I have read the Beatitudes time and again and
again throughout my struggles, finding comfort in the grace filled acceptance
of the Black River times. It enabled me to learn how to not only
accept this side of the human emotional experience but to embrace it. Mostly
anyways. Not always. (Smile.)
I had been ensnared
by faking it, a message that is treacherous in its subtlety and pervasiveness
in North American culture. Faking it comes with its own rigid, shaming laws
such as “real men don’t cry.”
Performance (obeying the rules), servitude (my "place" as a woman),
denial (the crying thing was applied to women, too), shame, (if only people knew the truth) and fear were the parameters that shaped how I lived. Mostly it was fear of rejection
and abandonment; a fear that reinforced the need to fake my identity and feelings. But no one knew because of my ability to sew a covering of fig leaves. I was a master seamstress.
I don’t wear them
anymore. They take way too much effort to maintain. (Smile.) God just reminded
me of my reluctance to share with my home church how bad things were before I started
taking Vitamin D. (Chuckle.) Okay. So I am not completely there yet. (Grin and
my heart leaps with joy because of God’s grace. There is always a next time!)
So, the question is,
where do these fig leaves show up? For what reason? With whom? Is it
because a fear of rejection and abandonment still has a hold over me?
(Long pause.)
Yah. It does but not
as badly as it used to.
Fear, too, is the
devil’s playground.
Another chuckle
escapes because God has orchestrated my journey into a freedom I never thought
possible in spite of my human frailty and weaknesses. And I laugh even harder
at the idea that repenting is filled with such joy! As it should be since it means I am looking straight into the eyes of Jesus.
One day, in the not
so distant future, fig leaves will become a fashion faux pas with no place to
go but the trash. For all of us.
AMEN!
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