I thought it was me. I thought I was the problem.
I have this phone. She’s so sturdy. Been with me for maybe… I went back and looked it up: 2021. Almost five years. She’s been down for the cause. Over and over dropped. Hanging in there. 16+ hours a day on the regular.
Except the damn charger. Or so I thought. Multiple replacements of just the cords. Over and over. But it couldn’t be them; it had to be her. Right?
That’s what everybody says. Or at least thinks. It has to be you, Sarah. You have to be the problem. What’s their famous lines? Oh yeah, “the common denominator”.
Almost had me convinced. Was just about to go out and buy another phone. Give up on her.
Give up on me.
But just before I did, a thought rescued me. Think about it: there were “good” times. Times when strangers would lend of their own to me. And everything went swimmingly. No issues. No errors.
There I was. Spending hours and days. Trying to coax my phone to accept what wasn’t working. Thinking all along the problem was me.
It wasn’t. I finally made the leap. I gave up on what had worked for so long – years… until it didn’t.
That’s the key: to be able to edit the story you are telling yourself. Based not on the past. Based not on what they said. But what is in front of you right now.
They lied to me. All these stories they sold me as a framework. It was all art trying to manufacturer certainty. Instead of the infinite mystery of what we are given to navigate every day.
Not everything is so serious. There are very few right answers. Just the tick tock of passing time. And whatever regrets you bet to live with on your deathbed. If you don’t get snatched out of here in a split-second gift of mercy – as many see it. Those who have suffered maybe longer than they could have.
Not that it’s your fault. How were you supposed to know any different if you never heard better?
This is one of the only times I now find theology important. When your idea of life is a constant performance to please a narcissist ego-maniac deity. Or… ?
I chose the latter. Experientially.
Now I get it.
I bought the new charger. Not just the cord. But the part that connects to the source in the wall. Immediately all my problems resolved. It wasn’t the phone.
It wasn’t me.
People change. Sometimes they were in our Lives for a long time. We wrote a story about them on our hearts. We sing, “I surrender all…”. Except this one, God. All except this one. This one I will keep for me. My golden calf. My idol of certainty I couldn’t picture myself living without.
That’s not all grief.
Still there is no Love in shame. No blame from me. No audacity to think I ever know what’s really going on. Beyond Jesus Loves us. That’s all I know.
But in my experience there are times. When we keep insisting on going back to Egypt. Or even camping right outside the Promised Land. Keeping our wrestling with God at as much distance as Spirit will give us. Resisting the hard questions.
Until we have nothing left. But to face it.
I hold all interactions loose as I can these days. Paying attention to what people do. More than what they say.
I’m not God. Wore that horse dead into the ground. How many times? No, I can’t save anyone. Jesus didn’t come to preach hustle culture or behavior modification. At all. No matter how much your pastor and the whole congregation will try to convince you so. Physical and financial fitness is not next to godliness. Neither is social acceptance. Or even tolerance. That wasn’t the gospel message AT ALL. Thank God!
Healing doesn’t start there. Healing goes to the deepest parts. Not one left behind. Ever.
The problem wasn’t me.
There was a time I could depend on you. Now I can’t. And that’s okay. I have permission to grieve. But that’s not the end of the story. I don’t have to park there.
God might do a new thing. God might give me permission to do my own thing. Either way. This is the day the Lord has made – what joy will you find in it?
I can. Because it’s not me the work depends on. I participate as I am. I Am? Not as a performance of who Christ was to us. Not playing the character of Jesus as if in a video game. But fully me.
The pressure really is off. The REAL gospel is really good news – without any mental gymnastics.
Breathe. And then go BE. A human BEing. Not a human doing. That’s my new goal. Not performative. But the sacrament of a Life actually well-Lived. Nothing to get right. Except even my wildest dreams if I so choose. Just for the sake of.
What a difference! And, Amen!
I am not a loser because I loved you longer than you loved me. Because I kept trying long after you gave up. Because I chose hope over and over. I’d rather that than the alternative.
Am I getting wiser? Yes. But I don’t have to own the shame people put on me for staying in the game long beyond what they opted in for. That’s okay. Either way.
I used to beat myself up for how people looked down on me. Over and over. But I’m not doing that anymore.
People love you because they are loving people. Not because you are loveable. That’s such an important distinction.
I couldn’t make the phone charger work no matter what. Yeah, it served me for so long. Years. Faithfully. Until the end came. I didn’t want to believe it. I kept trying and trying. Losing myself and so much else in the process. Until I couldn’t afford anymore not to do differently. Didn’t have anything else to give. Forced to make a decision. To choose which I was loyal to. Everyone else? Or me.
Turns out I wasn’t the problem.
Sarah Nyhan 