I didn't sleep much last night--for a lot of reasons, but one was thinking about the youth I serve, the messages they "get" from the world, and my sermon for chapel today. I'm going to use the epistle for Thanksgiving Day.
Philippians 4:4-9
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.
The thing is, the youth I serve, they're not alone. Many of us have had parts of ourselves stripped away slowly and over tie--you know death by a thousand cuts. But I think, or at least I know for me, there are a couple of times that standout.
I was in seventh grade--new school, new friends. The beginning of the year went great. I made a fun group of friends. I felt on top of the world.
Up until this time, I had always been confident in my scholastic abilities, and I wanted to excel. If I'm honest, I wanted to standout--even in seventh grade I wanted to be top of my class. I worked hard.
We had a seventh grade very challenging English teacher--one sentence fragment, one run-on sentence--failing grade. He was challenging but also encouraging. I think his class is when I fell in love with writing. His class and this episode--writing became my refuge.
Vocabulary/spelling tests were always difficult, and this one covered the full semester of words. I studied very hard and began the test confidently. After he told us to put our pencils down, I looked down and realized I had misspelled a word. My heart sank, but then I remembered the bonus word and I was confident I had nailed it.
My teacher told us to switch tests to grade. (Do people do that anymore?) As I handed it to one of my good friends I said, "I know I missed #9, but I also know I got the bonus, so I should still get an A." My friend was also a high achiever, I thought she would understand.
That weekend I wasn't invited to a spend the night party. I didn't know that until Monday morning. (I am SOOOO glad we didn't have social media then.) Monday morning my group of friends were all acting weird hurriedly walking past me saying they were late to wherever they were going. When the lunch bell rang one of the group asked to talk to me. She told me the group didn't want to be friends with me anymore. They decided I was conceited (ironically that was one of our vocabulary words) among other things She used as an example the vocabulary/spelling test. I don't remember anything else about the conversation other than I didn't even try to explain/defend myself. We both walked away. I went to the library instead of lunch.
As a grown-up looking back I have several thoughts. First, I feel for the young girl who was chosen to deliver the "news/verdict" of our friendship or rather the end of the friendship. Did she draw the short straw? Second, I can understand how seventh grade girls could have interpreted that exchange about the test.
I remember and relive that day a lot. I lost confidence that day. I lost healthy self-pride. I lost self-esteem. And I put on the cape of imposter syndrome--never believing I had truly earned or deserved something. I am careful before I share any accomplishments with others, and I always worry about how I am perceived.
Fast forward 12 years. I was at my cousin's bridesmaid's luncheon. I was sitting next to a woman I'd known almost my entire life because she and my cousin had been best friends forever. She had the most beautiful (and loud) laugh. We were laughing and talking--and yes being loud. On the other side of me was another woman I'd known forever, and I loved and admired (looked up to) her. She put her hand on my arm and said, "SHH You're being too loud and obnoxious. Stop acting that way." I thought I had lowered my voice, but a few minutes later she kicked me under the table and through gritted teeth said, "I said STOP." And I did, for years.
I withdrew into myself believing I was too much, believing I didn't know how to behave in public, believing I needed to be less. (Some of you may agree--trying to use a little humor here.) Over time, a part of that person began to re-emerge, but the doubt remains, the insecurity remains, the hurt remains. One "weird" look from someone I love and respect, one whispered "stop" and I am right back there.
Last night as I tossed and turned I thought about the passage from Philippines as well as Jeremiah 1:5, "Before I created you in the womb I knew you; before you were born I set you apart," God created each of us in God's image. God created all of us--the parts we like and the parts we don't. The parts others like and the parts they don't. We can grow into that image, and we can also learn/be taught to deny parts of it. But I believe every part of who we are is pure, commendable, pleasing, and worthy of praise. We, with God's help, grow into those parts of us. It takes time--probably a life-time--but there is no part of ourselves God wants to excise.
Today I'm going to ask those in chapel to think about a part of themselves they have been told or learned to diminish and to give thanks for that part of who they are. I'm going to ask them to pray that God will help them regain the goodness in that trait/part of themselves.
And I will pray it won't take them a lifetime to do so.
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