That place in us
September 7th, 2009 by John Lynch
Today I’ve been thinking about that place in us that doesn’t change by will power, diligence or good intention. It’s our perception of ourselves. My self-perception, historically, has seemed to fluctuate like the stock market, between an inflated sense of greatness and irrational inferiority. Case in point:
Not long ago, I was in Auckland, New Zealand. (geez I like saying that) Anyway, Bill, Bruce and I are just about done with our speaking tour of Australia and New Zealand. And this particular morning I am sitting alone in the hotel restaurant, reading the local paper. I look up to notice a young couple sitting down, two tables away. This is not just any young couple. They are right out of an international fashion magazine, dressed hip and trendy-incredibly fit and beautiful. Their clothes are sprayed on, I think. I try not to stare, positioning myself behind the paper, in such a manner as to be able to stare. He stands up to get some coffee while she stays at the table, just looking incredibly attractive and fashionable.
At some point, she notices me, not staring, and she smiles kindly at me before turning away to look out the window. And in an instant this incredibly bizarre scene takes over in my mind:
“See, I’m not stupid. I’ve seen that smile before. John, you old dog, you’ve still got it! She likes you. No, she’s captivated with you. That smile says ‘Please sir, take me away with you. I’ll dump this guy in a heartbeat. Take me with you.’ How sad. She doesn’t know that I’m married and have a life of my own-that it’s too late for her. I can’t help her.
Just about then the incredibly handsome man returns to the table. Its obvious he senses that something is very wrong. He can feel the tension, the electricity. He looks quickly over at me and then back to her. It’s clear he’s thinking, “Oops, I’ve got some competition here.”
I so much want to jump up and take him aside and say, “Hey buddy, listen, you don’t worry about a thing here. I’m a Christian. I love my wife dearly. We’ve been married 25 years. I’m not going to steal this woman from you.” Instead, I come to the conclusion that it would be better for all of us, if I just get up and leave the room…
In fairness, the illusion didn’t really last that long. But for a few seconds I actually was aware of my concern and awkward embarrassment for the guy’s obvious awareness of her infatuation with me.
How absolutely crazy is that? I’m 56. I’m pudgy, I’ve got hair that looks like wheat glued to my head with carpenter’s glue. And I’ve got a space between my teeth you could drive a pinion nut through. My feet turn out, I’ve got hair growing out of my ears and I can’t remember our last three presidents names without hints.
The truth is, when I got up from the table and turned to walk out of the room, one of them probably said to the other, “That sweet old man is amazing. He’s down here at breakfast all by himself and he found the food and everything! His grandchildren must be still asleep. He probably dressed himself. And look at him shuffling out without a walker. I hope I’m as spry as him when I get to be that age.”
When does that self-deception, that inflated view of self leave us? I’m not sure, but I’m pretty certain it’s after 56.
That inaccurate self-story we can tell ourselves, can show up at any time, in any area of our lives. It comes from the effects of shame, of wanting to re-create ourselves to be someone worthy of love. Because life can try to teach us that we are not. The only antidote strong enough to invade my dishonest self story is to trust God’s assessment of me, His assessment of my lovableness. His choice to love me and His choice to call me His beloved, His choice to fuse His identity with mine-is my only hope of breaking the spell of shame.
God knows that even if this “inflated” self- image were true, that if indeed that women –strangely attracted to tooth gaps and woodenly thatched hair- did want to run away with me; that this would not be a validation of my worth or value. In fact, this would represent an opportunity to deconstruct the life of cherished love with my wife and family that God has been weaving all these years.
In the last twenty years I have increasingly believed these truths. And receiving His love, His delight, His unchanging assessment has curbed my madness, my self-deceived charade. Most of the time I see myself pretty accurately: Christ in John Lynch! And it has made sense of this person He has made me.
…But I still do have my moments, don’t I
Later.
John
John, what a hilarious and beautifully transparent story – something that any of us who are truly honest with ourselves can relate to because we’ve been there – recently!
It’s amazing how relevant your story is to me today. In some really painful lessons of just last week, the whole hunger to be someone of value really surfaced in my heart. Through a real let-down by friends, I realized how hard I have tried in life to motivate, persuade… ok, manipulate people into reflecting value back to me. After 41 years I’ve finally recognized that it doesn’t work.
My only hope today, is that God Himself will take the initiative (without any will or action on my part to manipulate Him into doing it) to simply communicate His value of me. All I feel I can do right now is wait for Him.
Thanks for being a reinforcing voice from Father to validate the track He’s got me on – the track to the Room of Grace.
Grace and peace,
Glenn
Glenn-what great words of truth. We are here, standing with you as you let “God Himself take the initiative (without any will or action on my part to manipulate Him into doing it) to simply communicate His value of me.”
Beautiful.
Many of us are on a very similar journey. Your prayer sounds a lot like mine.
John Lynch
@Glenn – thanks for posting this in your Facebook page.
@John – you articulated so well, the scenario that has played in my head too often. You’re right, it doesn’t take that long. It is a flash, and those of you who are more sanguine than I, can articulate it.
My problem, is that as a younger man, I was able to create the first half of that story – through (as my Dad would say) brute strength and awkwardness. What I forget, that as I approach 51, I more closely resemble the last half of your diorama.
Just the other night I was thinking, “So, at what point does a man stop worrying about his physical appearance? When should I quit trimming my ear hair? When should I no longer be concerned with those weird bumps on my face? At what point will I no longer puff myself up?
I’m pretty sure it happens after 50. Do you think I can figure this out before 56?
Boys, it never goes away, that worrying about your physical appearance. Not even when your hair turns white and becomes thin or non-existent. Not when you lose the sight of your own feet by virtue of the shifting of your chest to your belly region. Now, while you groom your hair, your face and your body in front of a clean mirror, you recognize how frail and unattractive you have become, but fortunately, that feeling lasts only as long as it takes for you to walk away and don that magnificent shirt that you know makes you look so bold and desireable. You step on the scales and quickly step off again – that can’t be right – and then you square your shoulders and go out to face the world and let them all marvel at you again. You da man, and you know it, even at 78 years, Remember, in our minds, we’re all still seventeen, God did that to us for a reason. So that we could survive moments like John described so well. I see the sparkle in the eyes of the young girls who pass me on the street. Fortunate for them that I’m married and not on the prowl these days,