Authenticity // Narrative // Love Well
I am constantly asking myself, "Am I loving well?"
The answer is almost always no. Not because I do not want to love others well or because I do not love them, but because I tend to love within my comfort zone and within the confines of the way I am best loved. I love without the abundant grace that God bestows upon us. I love within the limits of my forgiveness and my hard heart. I love without the utter desire for what is best for them. I love with strings attached. These last few months have been enlightening to me about the way I receive and give love.
A big part of my failure to love well stems from a basic misunderstanding of others narratives. Narrative is an odd word to use to describe the constant dialogue and narration pulsing through a mind at any given moment. It is an odd word to use to describe the filter through which we take in the world and the descriptions of our personal experiences, but it is the only word that does truly describe such thoughts and experiences. As I begin to understand my own narrative better and how other interact with it, I begin to understand how little of anyone else's narrative I know. I see this in my husband.
I love my husband and I share a lot of my thoughts and feelings with him, but I have to share these with him because if I do not tell him, he cannot possible know the way in which I saw, felt, or received the external environment. Even when we share the same experience, my narrative and his narrative are vastly different because the way in which we interact with the world is different. Our core filters are different and the importance of different aspects of an experience varies between the two of us. I can only share my narrative with him, when I am intentionally baring my soul and my story to him in a way that aptly and concisely describes not only what happened, but how I felt and reacted to it. I can only know his narrative, if he shares it with me in the same way. As time goes on, he may see patterns in my narrative that can help him predict an approximation of my feelings and reactions, but he cannot know for certain unless I share it with him. Time and intentional sharing can contribute to the understanding of someone else's narrative, but it will never tell us the full story.
If my husband can only even being to know a fraction of my narrative, How much less would a friend know? What about an acquaintance? I cannot love others well without knowing their narrative and them knowing mine. The only way to do this is to be intentionally vulnerable in baring our souls and our stories to one another. Even then, they will color it with the way they see the world. How much more colored does my narrative become when someone is purposefully painting it to align with their world view or their opinions on my life.
It is a privilege to hear another person's narrative, even it it is a small snippet. We must guard these stories and these pieces of souls as we would want our own guarded. Vulnerability only works when love is at work between the two. the only way to make friends is to share my narrative and the only way to share my narrative is to be authentic.
I have not had many friends in my life. In college, I think the people who I considered friends probably thought of me more as a project than a friend. I needed mending and I took much more than I ever could give. In middle school and high school, I had a limited number of people I let in because I knew that I was not going to stay in San Diego forever and those friendships would not last. I closed myself off even to those who were closest to me. In my current stage of life. I have flitted to frequently to truly create genuine friendships. But, I know see the value in authenticity and transparency in a way that I could not have understood in any other life stage.
In the past four years, the same narrative plays over and over again as I witness the way convenience creates acquaintances and hardships create friendships. It is uncomfortable to reach out when it is purposeful. When the intention is love and not just a casual kindness. It is uncomfortable to try and forge friendships, but it is worth it. Now, I am intentionally seeking authentic friendships. I am not interested in companions who will journey with me a mile and then begin a different journey. I am interested in friendships where we can bring each other closer to Christ through encouragement and love.
I am willing to be uncomfortable and vulnerable for the pursuit of authenticity. I am willing to seek where it is difficult and not just where I desire. If I wanted easy, I would stay at a church where I was not being fed for the sake of companionship and warm fuzzy feelings. If I wanted easy, I would stay in San Diego, where my biggest worry would be a test grade and getting home by curfew. If I wanted easy, I would have dropped all contacts with any one who did not live in a ten mile radius of where I currently reside. But, I don't want easy, I want to live authentically.
This year, I chose calm as my word of the year. I chose calm because it was a conscious effort to choose calm, but Looking back so far, I would choose authenticity as my word. I still choose calm and peace, but my desire is for authenticity: to live authentically to worship with authenticity, to have authentic relationships. These last few months my desire for authenticity has completely uprooted me and brought me to my knees in overwhelming supplication.
If I'm being honest, I don't love well and so I am working on it. I am working on listening so I can know some else's narrative.I am working on grace over anger when I am hurt. I am working on becoming more Christ-like. I am working of loving well for the sake of being more like Jesus and less like my old self. It wasn't easy leaving and I know the continual transitions that Kevin and I will face over the next few years will not be easy, but real life isn't easy. It's dirty and raw ans it hurts sometimes, but it is authentic.
The answer is almost always no. Not because I do not want to love others well or because I do not love them, but because I tend to love within my comfort zone and within the confines of the way I am best loved. I love without the abundant grace that God bestows upon us. I love within the limits of my forgiveness and my hard heart. I love without the utter desire for what is best for them. I love with strings attached. These last few months have been enlightening to me about the way I receive and give love.
A big part of my failure to love well stems from a basic misunderstanding of others narratives. Narrative is an odd word to use to describe the constant dialogue and narration pulsing through a mind at any given moment. It is an odd word to use to describe the filter through which we take in the world and the descriptions of our personal experiences, but it is the only word that does truly describe such thoughts and experiences. As I begin to understand my own narrative better and how other interact with it, I begin to understand how little of anyone else's narrative I know. I see this in my husband.
I love my husband and I share a lot of my thoughts and feelings with him, but I have to share these with him because if I do not tell him, he cannot possible know the way in which I saw, felt, or received the external environment. Even when we share the same experience, my narrative and his narrative are vastly different because the way in which we interact with the world is different. Our core filters are different and the importance of different aspects of an experience varies between the two of us. I can only share my narrative with him, when I am intentionally baring my soul and my story to him in a way that aptly and concisely describes not only what happened, but how I felt and reacted to it. I can only know his narrative, if he shares it with me in the same way. As time goes on, he may see patterns in my narrative that can help him predict an approximation of my feelings and reactions, but he cannot know for certain unless I share it with him. Time and intentional sharing can contribute to the understanding of someone else's narrative, but it will never tell us the full story.
If my husband can only even being to know a fraction of my narrative, How much less would a friend know? What about an acquaintance? I cannot love others well without knowing their narrative and them knowing mine. The only way to do this is to be intentionally vulnerable in baring our souls and our stories to one another. Even then, they will color it with the way they see the world. How much more colored does my narrative become when someone is purposefully painting it to align with their world view or their opinions on my life.
It is a privilege to hear another person's narrative, even it it is a small snippet. We must guard these stories and these pieces of souls as we would want our own guarded. Vulnerability only works when love is at work between the two. the only way to make friends is to share my narrative and the only way to share my narrative is to be authentic.
I have not had many friends in my life. In college, I think the people who I considered friends probably thought of me more as a project than a friend. I needed mending and I took much more than I ever could give. In middle school and high school, I had a limited number of people I let in because I knew that I was not going to stay in San Diego forever and those friendships would not last. I closed myself off even to those who were closest to me. In my current stage of life. I have flitted to frequently to truly create genuine friendships. But, I know see the value in authenticity and transparency in a way that I could not have understood in any other life stage.
In the past four years, the same narrative plays over and over again as I witness the way convenience creates acquaintances and hardships create friendships. It is uncomfortable to reach out when it is purposeful. When the intention is love and not just a casual kindness. It is uncomfortable to try and forge friendships, but it is worth it. Now, I am intentionally seeking authentic friendships. I am not interested in companions who will journey with me a mile and then begin a different journey. I am interested in friendships where we can bring each other closer to Christ through encouragement and love.
I am willing to be uncomfortable and vulnerable for the pursuit of authenticity. I am willing to seek where it is difficult and not just where I desire. If I wanted easy, I would stay at a church where I was not being fed for the sake of companionship and warm fuzzy feelings. If I wanted easy, I would stay in San Diego, where my biggest worry would be a test grade and getting home by curfew. If I wanted easy, I would have dropped all contacts with any one who did not live in a ten mile radius of where I currently reside. But, I don't want easy, I want to live authentically.
This year, I chose calm as my word of the year. I chose calm because it was a conscious effort to choose calm, but Looking back so far, I would choose authenticity as my word. I still choose calm and peace, but my desire is for authenticity: to live authentically to worship with authenticity, to have authentic relationships. These last few months my desire for authenticity has completely uprooted me and brought me to my knees in overwhelming supplication.
If I'm being honest, I don't love well and so I am working on it. I am working on listening so I can know some else's narrative.I am working on grace over anger when I am hurt. I am working on becoming more Christ-like. I am working of loving well for the sake of being more like Jesus and less like my old self. It wasn't easy leaving and I know the continual transitions that Kevin and I will face over the next few years will not be easy, but real life isn't easy. It's dirty and raw ans it hurts sometimes, but it is authentic.
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