Recently I was invited to a birthday party, a party that I had wanted to be included in from the first I knew of it’s existence. But as the day and time of the party drew near, my anxiety about having to walk into this party increased. As I let out a deep sigh and bolstered myself into the room, I was struck by the dreaded feeling of not belonging. I instantly relived old hurts of not fitting in, not having a place, not being seen and the humility that comes from a deep secret fear that my being there was a mistake. You see, the room was full of wonderful women, smart women, revolutionary women who fight daily against social injustice, inequality, abuse, racism and mediocrity. Several of the women there are great lovers of humanity, or of God, and at the very least great lovers of life. I can’t say that I’m really a great fit for any of these descriptors thus maybe not a great fit as friendly companionship to these woman. The lie is that I’m not an equally valuable contributor to society nor to the room. I’m just simply me, and a wounded me at that. I mostly wanted to hide. In hiding I could possibly stay protected and maybe in control of my lurking suspicion that at 43 years of age I haven’t made any significant contributions or a lick of positive difference on this planet. The ever present question, “What am I doing with my life?”, is especially loud and clear this evening. The weird thing is I’m surrounded by friends and acquaintances. I “know” everyone at this party from some place of kindness and goodwill in my community or another so why do I feel so alone and so very uninvited when quite clearly I was?
God heard my cry. He always does because He is faithful and He comforted me in that special way He does, through books. One of the friends from the evening sent me a text the very next day about a book she was about to purchase. She had no idea I was struggling nor did she have any inkling that this book would be for me. She was just sharing her next book purchase with me, off the cuff. No surprises here, the title was perfectly appropriate to what I was still processing from the night before. The book was Uninvited: Living Loved When You Feel Less Than, Left Out, and Lonely by Lysa TerKeurst. I promptly bought it myself and what an honest read it was as it put balm and ointment on my fears, hurts and insecurities. Lysa, the author, suggested two fears I might have been wrestling with that night, two fears that lurk in the shadows of every social engagement I have had the courage to expose myself to in the last several years. They are 1. The fear of abandonment and 2. The fear of losing one’s identity. I accept the first fear as my own because I was abandoned by someone I had poured twelve years of love and acceptance into. She was a dear friend who rejected me in an instant when we had our first major disagreement. I believe that her pain was too great for her to overcome and therefore it was easier for her to reject and exile me rather than face it and find ways to heal and reconcile. But even with the insight God has been gracious to give me on the situation, I still have my own personal wounds turned fears to overcome. To look out into that room at that party was to see many potential close friendships that might easily about-face in a nano second if they find something in me that they don’t like because it’s happened before. As Lysa (the author) pointed out, “Things of this world all eventually reveal what incapable anchors they really are.” “Things” for me is actually “people”, and “people” is actually “close-friend”, and “close-friend” is actually someone I experienced a “soul-tie” with and that “soul-tie” when ripped apart naturally took part of my soul away with her. Painful. Very.
As for the part about losing one’s identity, I guess I need to remind myself that it’s my identity in Christ that is truth, not an identity that suggests that what happened in that friendship gone wrong translates into my being a bad friend, a bad person, or someone who has nothing good to offer others. Those are feelings that were born out of brokenness, but as Lysa kindly reminds me,
“Feelings are broken boards. Only truth is solid, unchanging, and stable through and through. Old patterns of thought must be torn out, and a new way of looking at the core of who I am using God’s truth has to be put into place. My identity must be anchored to the truth of who God is and who He is to me.”
My decision is made; I will continue to learn and grow and present the best version of myself to the world and trust that God will bring people into my life who are doing the same. In the mean time, I might be lonely and I might feel unseen and I might not be invited but I am not the sum total of those insecurities. Instead, I am loved by God and I am well on my way to aligning myself with my God given purpose and what/where/and who He has mapped out for me. What I was longing for in the party room that night was connectivity. I long to connect with women who are doing life with the Lord on a more enlightened plain than I’m on because I want to be lifted up, challenged and forced to grow beyond where I currently am. I want to see the world through different perspectives than my own, in ways that unravel my predisposed prejudices and replace them with humbling, God revealed realities I hadn’t considered before. I want to be in safe communion with women who are not intimidated by my fumbling and short comings but who can lovingly show me to myself for the purpose of spiritual growth and mutual celebrations of God’s grace through His discipline and admonishment. These women may or may not be those who were in attendance that night but it doesn’t matter because I’m believing in God’s provision. He will deliver the perfect friendships at the perfect time in line with His refinement and purpose for my life. I will not be captivated by the fear that this loneliness is more than temporary and for a season. I am holding out for the goodness and fulness of His provision as He deems fit. My only obligation is to press on and boldly play my unique note to the world.
One thing I can do while I wait is contemplate and act appropriately on the question Lysa asks;
“Do I walk into situations empty and dependent on others to look for ways to bless me?”
I don’t want to be that needy person in the room, the one that needs reassurance and validation to be there. I’d much rather be overflowing with God’s love in a way that I can offer it freely to others rather than needing others to fill up a deficit within myself. Let’s face it, very few people can detect the deficit for what it is in others none the less fill it up to satisfaction. Only God fits into those God-sized holes. But what a refreshment it would be to enter into a social situation with confidence that I’m there to be a blessing to someone rather than with the nervousness of an unmet need looking to be filled.
Lysa brings up another very important factor that rejection tries to steal from us, our hesitancy to trust again. Humans break trust all the time, sometimes on purpose. I trusted that I could be honest with my ex-friend and I was wrong, she trusted that I would never speak up on some subjects that bothered me and she was wrong. This lays fertile ground for the idea that it is absolutely not safe to be vulnerable, transparent or trusting of other human beings no matter how long you have known them or how long you have professed to love them and them you. Lysa describes this well,
“Girls who have the lingering whispers of rejection still echoing in the hollows of their soul rarely feel completely held safe. So they look at gaps of the unknown and hesitate at best. Run away at worst. They crave for life to make sense. They cringe when it doesn’t. It’s unfathomable to take a leap into something as uncertain as air and expect to stay intact. What we see will violate what we know unless what we know dictates what we see.”
God has been whispering so much truth to my soul about my lost friendship that I can finally see it through His eyes. It was a pruning from which significant growth on my part was had. It was a humbling so that I can approach future relationships with more love and grace than ever before. It was reprioritizing so that I can have no other before Him (and also not before my own husband). It was a sure way for Him to draw me to Himself because the pain was so acute and so long suffering (several years have already passed and it still seems like my loss was realized yesterday). She never was my enemy and I refuse to think she is now, it is just a reconciliation that is still waiting to happen and I continue to pray and trust in God to orchestrate it. So naturally I’m gun shy at this friendship thing now. I am reluctant to show my heart to people for fear that they will misunderstand me or worse not care. I have trust issues trying to take hold. But God will not fail me, He will cross the room with me at these parties and He will commune with me in the awkward silences or pregnant stares. He will make me able to withstand another lost friendship should it come to that and He will be diligent in teaching me important lessons through it. He allows me to be me in all my imperfections and so I will be courageous and allow myself to be seen, to be vulnerable, to hold my heart open to the next lovely creature who also wants to be seen and to be vulnerable and to hold open her heart as well. I consciously choose to go first and not let fear weigh me down nor steal my future wherever it might lead and to whomever it might lead. I might not be invited next time, but if and when I am I will be looking to be a blessing rather than one who’s allowing fear to choke the atmosphere out of the party. I’m not the life of the party, never have been, but hey, I’m a great listener.
Desperately Seeking Sally 