While I was Asleep…
In my early twenties I moved to Johnson City, Tennessee and went to Divinity School. After college, I was selling Coach handbags at the mall and found the experience less than satisfying. I was finally willing to accept that ministry was my true calling. A scholarship made my desire for adventure possible and led me to a graduate program in the Appalachian mountains of East Tennessee. As a missionary kid who had grown up in Japan, I was hungering for new cultural experiences. I did not want to stay in one place the rest of my life. The winter of 1997, I moved from the west coast to the east coast ready to begin the great adventure of life.
My time in Tennessee was in many ways magical as I adjusted to Hebrew and Old Testament classes, new friends, and took on my first serious ministerial job as a youth pastor. In this new environment I was living life at full throttle, often socializing late into the night or writing papers well into the wee hours of dawn. I was burning the candle at both ends and my health soon paid the price. I came home from church one evening feeling exhausted. During the night, I came down with a fever and a sore throat. The fever intensified with rapid speed and I became delirious and weak, unable to leave my bed or even stand up. My brain was stewing in the heat of fever and I began to hallucinate. I was no longer aware of the passage of time or even what was going on around me. Normally, I would have been terrified, but I was too sick to feel anything beyond the delirium of my fevered dreams.
Two days came and went in a blur and I remained passed out on my bed. At one point I crawled to the bathroom on my hands and knees too dizzy to stand. The third day of my illness there was a knock on my door. I was too weak to get up. The knocking continued intermittently for several minutes and I responded with faint moaning. Finally I heard keys in the door and two people entered my apartment. I vaguely registered a woman entering my bedroom and heard her shocked intake of breath as she saw me lying there in my godforsaken state. I registered her presence, but was too sick to identify her. Shortly after, I remember a man and a woman talking in the background of my dreams, a cool rag on my head, sipping water from a straw, and the sharp taste of Nyquil trailing down my throat as someone held my head up to sip from a tiny plastic cup. The couple stayed with me for some time before leaving.
My fever broke and by the evening, I was able to sit up and answer the phone. My friend, Karissa was on the other line. She told me she was worried when I didn’t show up for a ministry meeting. She had stopped by with her fiancee to check on me and when I didn’t answer the door called my landlord who let them into my apartment. Karissa and her fiancée were my guardian angels. Karissa helped me to the bathroom which I didn’t remember and they stayed in my apartment most of the day. This was an incredible act of kindness on her part and her fiancée’s but I remember feeling humiliated. Although I was in desperate need of help, when I returned to a conscious state, all I could think about was my strewn underwear and personal items on the floor, my disheveled appearance, and worry over what Karissa and her soon to be husband must think of me after our up close and personal visit.
This would be one of many times that I’ve been reduced to my knees, forced to reckon with my vulnerability and weakness both physically and morally. I view myself as a strong, independent, grounded woman. I’m not afraid to travel across the country or to take on new adventures and challenges and I’m almost always emotionally steady. Ironically, when it comes to asking for help, I’m a coward. Allowing people to see me when I’m a mess is beyond humiliating and I still find it so. I care too much what people think and this is an attitude I need to release in order to make spiritual progress in my life. Why am I so afraid of being vulnerable?
Through our life journey, most of us find ourselves confronting the same old fears and demons that have resided in the dark chambers of our most intimate thoughts since early childhood. For some reason, I am programmed to seek love and acceptance from others. I’ve worked hard to earn love and to be worthy of love and yet until I confront my vulnerability head on, I will never feel loved or worthy enough. I will always be completely devastated whenever I encounter rejection. I know my sin. I am too invested in social status, my achievements, and the opinions of others. The result has only brought me pain. The apostle Paul when discussing his own spiritual journey said, “That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10). I will never be as hard core as Paul and actually delight in hardships and persecution, but I am learning to see their value and that weakness has something to teach me that will make me stronger in the long term.
The journey that led me to my divorce was a direct route to a seismic confrontation with my biggest fear: if people really knew me they could never love me. I don’t believe this is every person’s struggle, but it is certainly mine. My current life as a single woman, often feels like a confirmation of all my deepest fears. Divorce for a people pleaser, a helper like myself is insult to injury. No one wants you! See, your life proves it. I know this sounds pathetic and it is. It’s also ridiculous. Rejection is a part of life and often proof that you have a soul, the strength to stand up for something you believe in. Personalizing every rejection in your life, is a form of self obsession. It is not healthy and certainly not good for your emotional well-being. In contrast, when we find ourselves vulnerable or reliant on others, it isn’t always a moral failing, sometimes it’s a strength to know our limitations and to know ourselves enough to ask for help. Despite our best efforts we will not escape life without a direct confrontation with our biggest fear, whatever it is. In my case, there will be times when I’m exposed at my most vulnerable, rejected, and cast aside.
I claim to be a Christian, but I am often hyper aware of how different I am from the man I declare to follow. I can think of no one less people pleasing than Jesus. He was more than willing to speak the truth even when the results made him supremely unpopular. He certainly embraced the path of rejection and embraced humility at every turn and was certainly alone and friendless before his crucifixion. If he could go through all of that, I can handle a divorce, some rejection here and there. Right? A little humility won’t kill me, especially if it leads me to a place with God where I know my worth is so much more. Even back in graduate school when I was deathly ill, I had the tendency to miss the point and to focus on the wrong lessons. I was humiliated at being seen in my vulnerable state, but I should have focused on the people who came to my rescue, who made efforts to help me when I most needed them. I should have disciplined my heart and mind to see and appreciate the help they provided rather than focus on the shame of my circumstances. When we focus too intently on ourselves we are blinded to the love that others show us. We are blinded to God’s love for us. In this state of separation from God’s love how could we feel anything but unloved or unworthy? We are often asleep when the opportunities for growth and learning present themselves. We resort to old patterns to help us through our challenges and fears even when they’re painfully ineffective. If we’re not careful we may never really awaken from our stupor. When I am forced to confront my biggest fear again in the unforeseen future, I may not make the best decision or handle it perfectly, but I hope I will be awake and alert enough to appreciate God’s overwhelming love for me.
