Anne Catherine

I think it’s very sad, and even somewhat perverse, to hear someone talk about the day before marriage as their “last day of freedom.” I would think, rather, that the day of marriage would be your first day of freedom, the first day that you are truly free to fully express, for the rest of your life, your love for your spouse through that beautiful sacrament. And what an extraordinary freedom that must be. 

I’ve been thinking about the way we compliment people, and the way that we receive compliments. And I think that honest compliments are wonderful, and that people would be much better off if we all complimented each other more, but not only on our clothes or our looks or other physical traits, although it’s rather lovely to receive compliments on those things. 

See, I think we’d be better off if we affirmed people more- affirmed them on their kindness or courage or strength of character, affirmed their faith or fortitude or generosity or workmanship, and this is especially important for two reasons. The first reason being that while there is nothing wrong with complimenting style or looks, we live in a society already so focused on appearance that it’s refreshing to hear affirmation about who we are, to have our focus drawn away from having our self-worth based on appearance and rather be affirmed about our character, instead of how attractive we are based on what clothes we can afford or what physical traits we happen to have (and which are out of our control, anyway). The second reason is that people simply aren’t affirmed enough. So often the response to a compliment is surprised appreciation, as though you’ve done someone a favor by recognizing something good about them. 

It is so disheartening to see someone genuinely surprised to hear good about themselves. Dear ones, it is so disordered how difficult it is for us to accept that we are exquisite creations, simply because He made us that way. We are so starved for genuine love, outside of and apart from every shallow message telling us how to be. 

I apologize for this very disorganized tangle of thoughts… I just hope you know that when you’re complimented, the person who compliments you is not assigning you value which you didn’t have before; they are affirming what you already are. And you are beautiful, in every way. You truly are, and you deserve to know.

“What if God doesn’t just love you because He’s God and that’s His job? What if the truth is that God actually likes you? Yes, you - right there, looking at this screen - you with the zits and the past and the lust and the blazing self-doubt - you with that weird laugh and the deep hurts and questions - you. What if God just really likes you for exactly who you are? Can you bear it?” - Lee Younger

“Can you bear it?” 
Can you bear it… I want to say a few words about this because it seems to be coming up in various conversations recently. What a deep question that is, when it comes down to it, because it asks so much more than “Do you believe God really loves you?” and rather confronts a far more personal issue. Do you believe you are worth His love? Do you believe that you are worth loving, at all? Because heartbreakingly often, the answer is a discouraged, distressed and lonely no. Maybe this is because other people have caused us to feel this way about ourselves, but often it is simply because we are our worst enemies, drawn in by satan’s whispered lies that we aren’t good enough, that we’ve never been and never can be good enough, and tragically, we believe it. And one of the saddest parts of all is that often the ways by which we deem ourselves good enough or not good enough don’t even matter. Often we aren’t even basing this evaluation of ourselves on whether or not we’re living up to God’s will for us, if we’re abiding by the morals and convictions we set for ourselves, if we are satisfied with the ways we are leading our lives. We are merely looking at the expectations that movies, novels, advertisements and other such propaganda set. Expectations that we condemn, and that we encourage other people to look beyond, and yet when it comes to ourselves it is so hard to disregard the shallow messages causing us to hate ourselves.

There is something desperately wrong with a situation in which we are told that we are beautiful, or special, or significant or loved, and it makes us uncomfortable, angry, or perhaps causes us to judge ourselves even more severely, because we cannot fathom that we have value. Maybe something within us rebels at loving words because we are mistakenly led into thinking that if they really knew you, if they knew all about the decisions that you’ve made, if they knew who you are when no one was watching, if they knew the guilt and the shame that you feel, the silly thoughts you think… that they would despise you the way that you despise yourself. Well, we will nearly always be wrong. There are cruel and hateful people in the world, and yet one beautiful attribute of humanity is that we are often able to astonish with our capability to love. As much trouble as we have seeing the light within ourselves, we are regular Sherlock’s at discovering the light within the ones we love. When inside of ourselves all we can see is darkness, someone else can see past everything we hate, and draw out our light and our great potential. And you know this, you already do, because you have seen such great beauty in those you love, even at their darkest. And it has broken your heart that they couldn’t see what you see.

Beyond the human, we have a whole other issue. When it comes to God’s love for us, this may be even more difficult to accept than other human beings regard for us. God is a perfect Being, a flawless Being. Maybe other humans can love us because we share the same sinfulness, the same flaws, the link of humanity. But this Being, this God who, as Christians, we praise and adore and strive to center our lives around… this God who is watching out for and listening to the prayers of every living human being  in this world, who treasures the eternal soul of every single one of the estimated 108 billion humans who have been born since the dawn of the human race (and every innocent who never had the chance to be), how could a God so great that words cannot come close to expressing, love you? 

How could a God so wonderful, not? I don’t believe the question is really about whether or not God could love us. In the depths of our hearts, in the fibers of our beings, in the very fact that we proclaim ourselves Christians and strive for all which that encompasses, it is never a question of God’s capacity to love. I believe the issue is solely our inability to love ourselves. And do not make the mistake of thinking this is only a small thing, because this is pivotal. We must believe in our ability to be loved. We must be entirely encompassed in the knowledge that we are worthy of being loved, that we are worth fighting for. Because He is constantly fighting for us… For you. So enough of the shame that makes it miserable to accept love. Whether or not you can wrap your mind around it, you already are. More than you can begin to fathom. He knows you more intimately than any human being ever can, and He loves you, He loves you, and the problem is not that we can’t believe He can love us, it’s that we are holding on to this guilt and this shame and this self-critique, like a parasite that is poisoning us, rebelling against the very Thing that will save us. We are not the things that we’ve done wrong, and we are not the flaws that we see in ourselves. And this love that we can’t bear to be drawn into… that Love will make us new. I can think of few worse insults than for us to say to our Savior that regardless of everything (and how immeasurable the cost of that “everything” was) that we don’t want His help, that we won’t accept His help… that we are beyond His help. You beautiful, irreplaceable creation, you exquisite might-not-have-been… Let love in.

“I’ve got my hands at redemption’s side
Whose scars are bigger than these doubts of mine,”
- Switchfoot, “Redemption”  

As mentioned in the previous post about sleep, tiring days on campus keep bringing me back to the subject. 

Another about sleep. I’ll write a hundred about sleep, for you. I like the way that you look when you’re sleeping, as though all the thoughts which trouble your lovely mind take on the form of something beautiful and soothe you like lullabies. I like that there are people whose well-being matters deeply to us, and ours to them, and I like that you’re at peace when you’re sleeping.  

I like the way that you are when you’re just waking up. The way that your eyes look beneath your ruffled hair, so bright and clear, like you’ve already had that strong cup of coffee that you’re aching to get to. You wake up ready to soldier through the day, and that’s singular.  A few empty grumblings aside, you are quite the morning person, and it makes smile. You always make me smile. 

Dear friend, I like how you are when you’re falling asleep. I like the things that you say and the way that you talk. You’re always honest, but you seem ever so slightly more so, then. I like how your words come out more softly and more slowly, as though they know they aren’t supposed to be used very often. As though the daylight isn’t privileged to bear witness to them, but maybe it’s okay, because the darkness will hide them from being quite so transparent. I like how you are when you’re falling asleep…. Maybe, in those still, quiet moments, when you sound very genuine and very tired and very real, and I forget not to trust too much in anything, maybe it’s a little bit more than that.

Dear friend, I like how you are in all the stages of sleeping. But then again, I like you all the time. 

There was a flicker, from within the present darkness. There was a trace of light inside beautiful, cast-down eyes, and another subtle but significant trace hidden in heavy-hearted conversation. And then the flicker ignited into a flame, entangled in the words of striking songs, wrapped up in the wreckage of broken hearts and the nearly tangible ache of loneliness. And the flame started fires in souls consumed with anger and sadness and apathy and envy, and burned out the hurt that lingered there. And the flame was the determination of ‘average’ people, and their words and there example and their love. And their kindness held the power of histories greatest armies, and they used that strength to force the nightmares from weary minds, and their determination drove the fear from the gasping, gaping vastness in the cavities of chests where faith used to rest, and gave courage to the uncertain and fortitude to the world-worn.  It started with a simple word and ended with an all-consuming fire that ignited a blind world and turned all the nightmares of our brokenness to something beautiful.