Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It's our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves: who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are born to manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. As we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
Nelson Mandela was a smart man. What he says in these few sentences is quite profound as Wednesday merges into Thursday and I discover I'm still up working on a project due later today. It's pretty easy to get discouraged around this time of the year; all the "what-ifs" come back to haunt me as compromises between projects and commitments are made left and right in order to finagle the way through to the end.
But who am I not to be brilliant? Gorgeous? Talented? Fabulous? It's not that I deserve to be any of those things-but God has made me to be more than what I often expect of myself. It's enough to make me smile. And cringe, knowing that Mandela and Thomas Merton both have a thing or two to speak into my life.
I feel as though I am treading carefully across an enormous web of friendships. I'm making my way along, finding out who means what to me, who to let go of and accept closure with, which acquaintances I need to pursue, and who to continue to hold on dearly. The tension between each individual is high (although most don't know each other) as many are vying for my time and attention. It's complicated.
I think I'm especially paying attention to these connections as I prepare to move off-campus, likely this very afternoon (Thursday). I'm trying to consciously give myself some continuity (or I would go crazy) by staying at MCC in the coming weeks/months. But there are so many friends that I've made here during my years at Calvin who will be graduating in May and moving on to their future careers-- and I may not run into them again. For the most part, I'm okay with that. I've come to terms with loss on many levels from all of the experiences I've had moving around and through death. I'm grateful for a reunion in Heaven, let's just put it that way.
In the book Wednesday Wars by Gary Schmidt, Mrs. Baker points out to Holling Hoodhood (through an example from Shakespeare) that growing up means learning to establish yourself in ways other than what people around you try to define you. In Saturated Self (a book I had to read for History of North American Media), Gergen illustrates that technology has played a significant role in the ways we define ourselves by adding to the sheer number of voices bombarding us daily. But here I am, trying to strip that all away. I want to come to grips with who I am, with whoever Betsy Joy actually is.
Can I actually believe that my presence, that my being me, can liberate others? Do I believe that I can "manifest God" to others?
First Corinthians chapter 13:11-13 says this:
When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a [wo]man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
The idea of a seeing myself mirror has always been fascinating to me. On occasion I catch myself by surprise, thinking "Is that really me?" I have a hard time putting the abstract mental self into a physical body. It's easy to concentrate on one or the other, but looking at myself in a mirror is like trying to pull together two selves that may or may not mesh. On any given day, I may feel gorgeous, but not talented. I may feel brilliant, but not gorgeous. Rarely do I feel absolutely fabulous, when all of those adjectives are rolled up into one.
Myself in a Mirror (Summer 08)
I don't pretend that I'm right in this, but maybe what Nelson and Paul's comments have in common is this: I am fragmented. Because I am a fallen human being, I can't see myself the way God sees me. Without divine grace, I cannot live my life the way Mandela describes it, in fearlessness. As I'm coming to terms with my identity as an adult, or as a teacher rather than student, I'm making transitions from talking and thinking and reasoning like a child to talking/thinking/reasoning like an adult. And all of that allows me to come face to face with a different sort of reality. Instead of this mirror image sensation, with the dichotomy I feel when I try to reconcile my inner life with my outer life, I will come to see myself the way God sees me. Because "now I know in part, then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known [by my Heavenly Father]."
Nelson Mandela ends with a noble truth: "We are born to manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. As we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
Paul reminds us again: "And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."
The way to accomplish Mandela's words is with Paul's. With Faith. And with Hope. And of course, with Love. Without these, we won't be getting very far in exuding God's glory in our lives.
May you see yourself today not in part, but in whole, as God sees you.
Betsy
PS. Here's one more "mirror image" that definitely encapsulates a moment of brilliance, beauty, talent and fabulousness... if not also a little embarrassing (sorry Kim & Jessie, haha!) Enjoy! ;)
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