Taking off a few "fake" bricks

So I'm going to feel mostly like a hypocrite today because I built back up my wall yesterday with several (okay, quite a few) bricks. Not the unforgiveness bricks - those are still put far away. Not the protective bricks - I'm not really afraid you'll hurt me. No, a different kind of bricks.

They're what I call Mask Bricks. The kind I spackle on when I don't like who I am so I put on a mask and try to be a different woman. And the kind I build up when I'm putting on a fake smile when inside I'm crying. And the kind I have to put on to function normally when I'm expected to. Sadly, I most usually put these bricks on for work and for Church.

Some of this need to build a hiding wall comes from insecurities, and some of it comes from needing to be a functional human being when I'd rather withdraw into my own little world and be alone. Sometimes I wonder why God gave me an introvert personality, yet called me to live such an extroverted lifestyle and ministry.

And maybe you have some Mask Bricks too.

You know, the smile you wear over your tears so people won't worry and press. The "fine" reply when people ask how you're doing when you're feeling anything but. The way you get along with your spouse when others are around, but you were just ready to rip each other's heads off five minutes before in the car. The way you say some things to cover up the wounds, but you don't divulge everything because that would be admitting you were wrong. The way you avoid doing or saying certain things that would come naturally, but people have made fun of you for it before, and even though they were just joking, it still hurt. They may have even liked that about you, but you hate it and wish it were different so you try to change. The way you dress or decorate your house like another woman you'd rather be, when your tastes don't really fit those at all. And the you who is really you gets lost somewhere between the masks and the bricks and the mortar.

So now it's demolition time again, because being someone else does not glorify God, and neither does lying or pretending.

"Just as our bodies have many parts and each part has a special function, so it is with Christ's body. We are many parts of one body, and we all belong to each other. In His grace, God has given us different gifts for doing certain things well. So if God has given you the ability to prophesy, speak out with as much faith as God has given you. If your gift is serving others, serve them well. If you are a teacher, teach well. If your gift is to encourage others, be encouraging. If it is giving, give generously. If God has given you leadership ability, take the responsibility seriously. And if you have a gift for showing kindness to others, do it gladly. Don't just pretend to love others. Really love them. Hate what is wrong. Hold tightly to what is good. Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other." - Romans 12:4-10

I am special. You are special. We are each to serve our unique purpose with genuine love and affection for one another. We are to be authentic. Because it honors God and puts His desires first before our own. Yeah, I know - easier said than done.

But we can do it.

So today I will pray and ask God to help me. Help me say what needs to be said, even though it will expose my vulnerability. Being vulnerable is not equal to being weak. Vulnerability is an open door to genuine, authentic love. Vulnerability is an opportunity to be YOU. The real you. Vulnerability is the freedom to surrender control to God. Put the deck in His hands instead of trying to stack it in your favor.

And I will talk to Him about how He made me, and how there are some things I don't have a very good appreciation of when it comes to what He did "in my mother's womb." But maybe He can show me why He did that and why He treasures it. And maybe I'll learn to appreciate it too. And if I can appreciate it, then I can live it out rather than trying to hide it or change it or continue being insecure about it.

And when people ask how I am, I'll try my best not to give a flippant 'fine'. Depending on how much I trust them, I'll be as honest as possible and as vulnerable as I can.

Because I don't want to lose ME in my wall.

So down come the bricks again . . .

Preparing your heart to love without a wall

If you've missed the past couple of posts, please take a moment to go back so that this one will make more sense. If you've been following the past week, you may have been challenged by what God is speaking to us about living our lives without protective, lonely walls, and I pray that God will continue His good work to completion.

Today I'd like to continue sharing my demolition process . . .

After pulling down the insecurity bricks, I believe God spoke clearly to me about forgiveness. And this is anything but simple and easy. Forgiveness is painful, tumultuous, messy, and time-consuming. When it came to women, a few of whom I mentioned in the first 'walls' post, forgiving was frightening. If I let those wounds be healed, would that excuse their actions? Would it mean letting myself be re-exposed to the same treatment from other women? Would it be taking the blame on myself? These fears blocked my ability to forgive for too long. Because in the end it wasn't about them.

It was about cleansing my own heart before Jesus.

Because the bitterness I held onto, regardless of the source, was sinful black sludge. Because it made me a hypocrite - and an ugly one at that. Of course I had hurt other women, too. Was I innocent? NO! I had participated in gossip, rumors, slander, misunderstandings, assumptions, and rejection too. Intentionally and unintentionally. So for me to withhold forgiveness, yet ask for it from Him was nothing less than appalling! It made no sense to Jesus, and once my eyes were opened long enough to see it, it made no sense to me either. So I had to forgive. There was no other option.

"Make allowance for each other's faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others." - Colossians 3:13 (NLT)

In virtually every case, it was not even a conversation between me and another woman, but rather a discussion Jesus and I had. It went something like this -

Jesus: You need to take those unforgiveness bricks down off your wall.

Me: No, I don't think that's possible. I don't want to. I can't.

Jesus: They are doing more harm than good to you.

Me: But I can't go through that again. My bricks protect me.

Jesus: That's my job.

Me: I don't think you did a very good job last time.

Jesus: Don't blame me for her sin.

Me: Well . . .

Jesus: I did protect you. You don't know what could have happened if I had not stepped in when I did.

Me: I didn't think of that . . .

Jesus: I know what happened was ugly, but you need to give me a chance to show you the beautiful sculpture I'm making from the pieces of your broken heart.

Me: That sounds painful.

Jesus: Maybe, but what else are you going to do? Wallow in the dark? Keep bleeding in lonliness?

Me: Maybe . . .

Jesus: No. I have a better idea. Let me help you forgive her.

Me: I don't know . . . Does that make it acceptable?

Jesus: No, but it heals. It makes room for Me to show you Myself and My Goodness. It is your surrender to let Me do what I need to do. Forgiveness covers - it is Love. Forgiveness is opening your clenched fists and putting the act of exacting justice in My Hands, which is where it belongs. Vengence is not yours, never has been yours, and never will be. You will never be holy as long as you try to hold onto it.

Me: Well . . . alright, here You go.

Jesus: There's something you're holding in your other hand too. Hand that over as well.

Me: What's this?

Jesus: Pride.

Me: It doesn't look like pride.

Jesus: It is. You think you've never done this before? You think you're innocent in all of this? You're not. Do you want me to show you the pain she has, her wall?

Me: NO! No, please, I can't look at that. Don't show me that!

Jesus: Fine. Take my word for it, then.

Me: Okay, here you go.

Jesus: Good. Now . . . come here into My arms.

Me: I'm sorry. Forgive me.

Jesus: I already did. Come here . . .

Me: I'm afraid.

Jesus: Of Me?

Me: No . . . I don't think so . . . I think I'm afraid of having to do this again.

Jesus: One step at at time, Precious. Come and let me rub this medicine on, let me wrap up your heart with My Love. I'll take away that pain. I really don't want you to keep bleeding like this.

Me: Oh, that sounds amazing. One more thing, Lord . . .

Jesus: Yes?

Me: Can I have my bricks back . . . just in case.

Jesus: No, child.

Me: Then You're telling me this won't happen again?

Jesus: No, child.

Me: But . . .

Jesus: I will show you another way. You will learn to love deep as I do. I will show you how to listen and speak my light and peace. I will pour my healing over you and over her, and I will unify you both in My love. I will guide you in what to say and what not to say. I will show you how I see her and I will use you both for Love. It will take time and continuous surrender to My precious plan. I will be here for you. I will strengthen you. I will be the only wall you need. Now are you ready to come close? Come into my arms, I am waiting.

"Hatred stirs up quarrels, but love makes up for all offenses." -Proverbs 10:12 (NLT)

Friends, forgiveness is not optional. God's Word says we MUST forgive. I challenge you to have your own conversation with the Lord of Love today. Let Him wash away your bitterness and pour a new spirit in you. Surrender to His plan to heal you. You can trust Him.

I do.

Breaking down the walls

I've had quite a few of you give feedback to Sunday's post - thank you for your honesty and vulnerability.


In all likelihood, we all have at least one story about how another woman has betrayed us or wounded our hearts. And when those wounds come like a knife through your back and you sit there holding your blood seeping into your hands with nothing else to do, your bloody fingers find the bricks. And you think to yourself, "What in the world can I do to prevent this pain again?" And the only solution you come up with is to stay away from all women. You generalize, telling yourself, "It will always end this way. My hopes for the friend I'm starving for are destroyed. I should give up now so at least I won't have to feel this ever again." And you use the bricks and the mortar and your wall gets higher and higher until they can see you but they can't touch you or hurt you . . . or love you.


It's comfortable behind your wall for a while. Safe. Quiet. Peaceful. Controlled.


But then you realize that the price you've paid for all of those things is loneliness. It's too quiet and too controlled. And you suddenly realize you're still starving, still craving a friend, still longing for someone who understands you and truly listens. Someone who will hold you when you cry and respect you the next day. Someone who laughs with you and at you and through you. Someone who you can bare your soul to and know she won't tell another living being on two feet. Someone who will go the distance of life and still be there when you're at your worst, when you don't feel like trying to fight in this life anymore, when your butt sags, and when you have a bad hair day or even a bad hair year.


And you might even pull down a few of those bricks and reach your hand out and let yourself be touched again. But at the first glimpse of her imperfection or even a hint of misunderstanding you pull it back behind your wall again and replace the bricks that had been saved close-by for this very occasion.


I've been there. I've lived behind my wall for years at a time, and if I'm completely honest, it's still there, in part. And though I haven't quite thrown the bricks away yet, I'm learning to live life vulnerable. I don't know how else to explain it, but that I couldn't stay there. I'm an optimist by nature, and I think one day I realized Jesus had more for me.


Another friend began her demolition at about the same time I did. She observed that women sized up one another when they walked in a room even more than men did. And then they compared themselves to the other women in the room and basically either tore themselves apart or ripped into other women mentally based mostly on physical appearance. And tell me you've never done that. Yeah, I didn't think you could. She theorized that much of our problems with relation to one another stem from our own insecurities and with trying to compare and compete. She said it and we both saw the other's light flash in our eyes. The problem began to materialize in our sight and we hated it so much that we vowed to do whatever it took to strangle it.

For a few years I really worked on that. On learning how to be myself. On refusing to let my mind compare my weaknesses with another woman's strengths. On rejoicing in the woman God made me to be and worshipping Him for His ability to create such uniqueness in every person. Because on the days I hated myself I heard Him cry, "How can you walk in such rebellion as to call something I have created and have treasured 'trash'?" And that absolutely broke me.

"You made all the delicate and inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother's womb.
Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous - how well I know it.
You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
before a single day had passed.
How precious are your thoughts about me, O God.
They cannot be numbered!
I can't even count them;
they outnumber the grains of sand!
And when I wake up,
You are still with me!" -Psalm 139: 13-18 (NLT)


Jesus began breaking down my walls, but I realized that I had to take up the sledge hammer too, and receive the love He had for me, and the love He wanted to give me through other women.

If the first step to breaking down your wall is learning to treasure yourself the way God does, how can you begin to do that today? If you already learned to be okay with you without comparing yourself to other women or competing with them, how did you go about doing that?

More to come soon . . .

A life without walls

Yesterday I had the privilege to speak to a fun group of women and girls about healthy relationships between members of our gender. It was a great opportunity, and I think of the 10minutes I was given to speak, I took about 20. Oops. And if I'm honest, I could have gone on for about 3 more hours! Maybe I'll just get some of it off of my chest here . . .


I know I have some guys who read my blog, but don't check out now, fellas - this could be an opportunity to understand your gal and how she ticks and clicks with her friends.


Now, being all of 32 years old, I realize I don't have a firm grasp on all there is to know on this topic, but in so many ways I've come so far from where I once was . . .


So maybe that's where I shall begin. I've been hurt by women. And not just hurt - crushed, flushed, broken, used, and beaten. Intentionally and unintentionally. In junior high school a girl named Brandi once threw her crushed-up crackers into my horrifyingly-curly hair quietly during homeroom while I was bent over reading a book. I couldn't figure out why everyone, including a very cute boy I liked, was snickering the whole period. Kids continued to laugh when they saw me in the hall, and all I could do was cast my eyes on the floor as I walked to avoid their jeers. It was not until I got home and looked in the mirror that I realized why they were laughing at me. I cursed my hair, and if I could pinpoint a day that started my life-long struggle with insecurity, that would be it. That was when I first started building my wall, brick by brick, so that girls wouldn't be able to get behind me without me knowing their intentions to shame me with my back turned. Even now, though I've come to grips with the hair God gave me, I still prefer to straighten my curls, regardless of the time or effort it costs me.



During those same years, my "best-friend" disowned me for no apparent reason other than the fact that we were one of the only families in the district who didn't drive a Mercedes and own a million-dollar mansion (we rented our house, actually). I realize now that I loved her, but I wouldn't have put it in those words then. We shared everything - boys, movies, family junk, laughs, cries, ballet recitals, homework, afternoons, hopes, dreams, band, goals . . . there was nothing important to me that she didn't know and share. But one day - she was done with me. Wouldn't call, wouldn't come over to hang-out, wouldn't even talk to me in the hall, or look at me in ballet class. She dropped me like a 50-pound bag of bricks. If I could pinpoint the day my anxiety around women began, it would be that day. I added those heavy bricks to my wall, protecting myself from women who would get close enough to drop me from that height. Even now, though I have several close girlfriends, I can still find myself trembling around some women, and I can go into avoidance mode instead of risking a relationship if I have any suspicion she might reject me in the end. I still find it easier to laugh around and relate to men in some ways. In high school I only let one girl in to be my friend. Fortunately, we're still close.




This pain continued in my adult years, though the wounds were less intentional with other women. One particular woman I respected greatly and wanted to be just like, well she hurt me too. Looking back, I know she would never have done this on purpose, but I felt totally forgotten by her because I asked her to mentor me and she said yes, but then it never happened. At the time I felt so defeated, so shameful that she would give me her lip-service for the sake of duty, but I was not really worth her precious time. No, not me. I wasn't good enough. I know that wasn't what she was really thinking, but it's what I imagined her thinking, and my imagination sent knives at her that just deflected off of her oblivion and stabbed my heart over and over. In those months of felt-neglect I began a pattern I still have to fight where I count every commitment a woman makes to me much too seriously, and I take it personally if people back out of time with me (even for church meetings - I know, ridiculous). I wonder if why she said "I can't make it today" really has to do with the fact that she doesn't honestly think I'm good enough for her time. I spackle some more bricks onto my wall.



And then there was another woman-leader in my church who accused me of disrespecting her while we were on a mission trip. Now, I will admit, my PMS was raging and I was jokingly sarcastic at one point. I think she asked me a question about a bunk and I replied "Have you seen our room?" a little too abruptly. But despite those circumstances, dishonor had NEVER crossed my mind. I was mortified by her incorrect assumption and accusation when in reality she was a dearly treasured woman whom I had thanked God for often and so wanted to emulate. How could she take one statement and accuse me of public disrespect? I turned off everything, shut down, and was barely able to fly back to the US in one piece. I think I remember vowing not to even try to minister to anyone again because I would just mess everything up since my intentions could never be interpreted correctly and because I was such a communicative derelict. I piled the wall over my head that day. I put on the bricks as high as I could reach and then started another wall to the right of me to keep out anyone who might try to come around the side of my wall. I still struggle with the right thing to say in impromptu moments around other women, and would much rather e-mail or text what I need to communicate than chance saying the wrong thing.



And these are my walls. I'm learning how to break through and take them down, but sometimes I put more bricks on rather than taking them off. Insecurity. Fear of rejection. Fear of re-injury. Fear of being misunderstood. I'd like to tell you the story of how God is teaching me to let women in again, but before I do that, I wonder if you might share some of your walls too . . .