I Am A Liar

I am a liar. Or at least I’m a person that sometimes lies. Today I had to own it. I had to call a spade a spade. I’m dealing with some inward spiraling, mostly around avoiding potential conflicts and hurting other people’s feelings, and in the middle of the spiral, I started reading this book our church is working through together—Emotionally Healthy Spirituality by Peter & Geri Scazzero.

Ever heard of it? The first chapter was a gut punch and a reality check all at the same time. Not sure I can stomach the rest of the book, but the best things in life are hard work and worth the effort, so let’s do this, right?

Bring on the emotional maturing.

Basically, I realized in reading just the first chapter of the book I am not as spiritually mature as I like to think. There are many items on the list of things labeling me emotionally immature, but the lying thing got to me.

I can confidently say, calling myself a liar is not a statement of my identity. I know at my core a liar is not who I am. No one who knows me even a little would call me a liar. Integrity matters to me. It is probably the number one reason I married my husband. He has more integrity in his little finger than Mother Theresa on a good day. Exaggerating a smidge, maybe, but he often wonders why I chose him when my standards are so unattainably high, and well, that’s why. I couldn’t find a man with more integrity. I digress….

In identity, I agree I am not a liar, but I do lie. And it happens at the worst possible moments for me. Moments when I’m given a chance to really speak how I’m feeling, to put it out there. Like when someone checks in after an emotionally charged discussion:

Someone: So, are we ok? Everything between us is good?

Me: (Long pause) Yes. I think so. Yes. I’m good. We’re fine. (Big smile. Hug if necessary. Change the subject.)

Liar! What I realized today is the thought process I went through in the above “Long Pause.” You know, the one where the someone is probably thinking I’m taking time to contemplate a truthful answer.

Instead, during that long pause, inside my head sounds something like this:

Am I ok? Are we good? I don’t know. I don’t feel ok. Things don’t feel good. But feelings lie, and the truth is this person loves me and I love them, so I’m sure my feelings will follow and align later. I also really don’t have the emotional energy to keep having this conversation right now in this format. Things have been a tad heated and uncomfortable, and I don’t want our time together to be soured. I’ll be ok. We’re good. Things are good.

So, I lie.

What results is an uneasy space between me and someone because truthfully, I’m not fine, and we’re not good. They choose to believe me (because I’m not a liar) but might leave feeling confused by the space between us. Fellowship is broken because there’s no resolution, conclusion, or agreement to disagree, no true understanding because I lied to avoid the avalanche of feelings building inside me.

And boy do they build! Not only can I not get my feelings of being ok to align later, I continue to spin on the conversation, realizing bullet point by bullet point how I’m hurt and offended, how my offense is not out of line, misplaced or unbiblical. But now what? I lied. I told them I was fine.

And that’s just one example of one conversation. Honestly, my knee jerk reaction is to lie in ANY uncomfortable, possibly confrontational situation.

Want me to share my real feelings, but I’m feeling like I can’t trust you because of past offenses? I’ll lie.

Put me in a position where I’m faced with the choice of telling you the truth or hurting your feelings? I might lie.

Back me in a corner, put me on the defensive? I might try lying, appearing like I agree with you, before I let the claws come out.

Why??? Because confrontation sucks. Because our world and our culture has progressively taken away our need and opportunity for face to face conversation. Because if you’re only going to be able to spend limited time with a person at lunch, on the phone, etc., why would you want to spend that time in conflict or even just mild disagreement? Our lack of overall social interaction has led to soul-crushing social anxiety crippling our ability to be honest, real, vulnerable, and authentic. Ultimately, we walk around never feeling truly heard or understood.

Honest, real, vulnerable, authentic conversations require treading into deeper, unknown waters. Sometimes we step on each others' feelings in those murky waters. It doesn't have to be a relationship damaging experience, but we're out of practice. For me, a little lie takes me back to shallower waters, but I just robbed myself and the other person of something authentic and vulnerable--of something true.

It's difficult to even put these words into writing, much less publish them! Now, I’m giving the general public a reason to distrust me, a reason to label me as a bad friend, bad Christian, untrustworthy person. I’m exposing my underbelly, and a voice in my head hisses, “This only makes you weaker, less valuable, less worthy.”

But I know the voice of my Good Shepherd (John 10:27). He doesn’t hiss. He beckons. He calls with longing. He speaks with concern and genuine compassion and love. He sheds light on my character flaw to lie in these situations, and whispers, “You don’t have to do that anymore. You are a new creation seated with me in the heavenlies. You are not a liar, so don’t lie. Believe that and step into it. Live unafraid because I’ve got your back. You are never alone. I am the Truth. Speak from My Spirit empowering you every day.” (2 Corinthians 5:17, Ephesians 2:6, Isaiah 54:17, Isaiah 41:10, John 14:6, John 16:13)

So, what now? When God reveals some ground He wants to conquer in our life, what do we do?

For me, the next time I’m faced with that situation, I feel those uncomfortable, unsure emotions, I won’t dismiss them. I won’t avoid the conflict inside me. I will have a choice to speak truth for myself. To say the words, “I don’t know how I’m feeling right now. I don’t feel fine. Things don’t feel good. I may need some more time to process.” Will that leave a highly uncomfortable space between me and someone else? Probably, but it will be truthful, sincere and authentic. I’m not hiding behind pleasantries. I can be free to circle back to the conversation, to table it for another day, to express my love for the other person, but my desire for time to speak truthfully.

My fellow family, friends, believers, and countrymen—It is time we take back the art of conversation. It is time we press into hard words to say, difficult topics to broach, and heavy emotions that have a purpose and were created by God to put us on notice.

I am not a liar. Anymore. By the precious shed blood of Christ.(Colossians 3:3-4) So, I don’t want to lie anymore. May God’s grace, truth, dignity, poise, and gentleness be evident in how I choose to interact with those around me. And when I screw up—because I will, again and again and again—may I have the humility it takes to go to those I’ve wronged and tell them I lied to them, asking for their forgiveness. Maybe it will open a new vein of conversation, maybe it won’t. But my conscience will be clear before the Lord, speaking the truth will set me free inside and out.

All sin ensnares, traps, entangles, and imprisons. Much of my sin is very inward. For me, outward sin is a sign something has been going wrong on the inside for a long time. It just finally leaked or exploded out. The truth sets us free, and Jesus is the Truth.(John 8:31-32) Being honest about my sins, confessing them out loud is an opportunity for accountability, a cry for community, a plea for help. There’s nothing wrong about any of those, nothing weak about coming clean and asking for help to stay that way. That’s meekness and brokenness on display for the glory of God because it’s His voice that beckons me to walk in the light of truth.

Our world says to hide your weaknesses or work on improving them. 

My Jesus says His power is perfectly displayed when I own my weakness, and He loves me regardless.(2 Corinthians 12:9) Sanctification—all that improving—is His job. Obedience is mine.

Maybe lying isn’t your struggle. Maybe your vice is greed, lust, lack of compassion, apathy, jealousy, wrath—the list goes on and on. If we were honest, we all struggle with any of these many times a day in different situations.  The challenge is can we own it. Can we see the ugly for what it is, call it by its name, and let Jesus conquer that ground in our life by making it new with His Truth? Are you walking close enough to Jesus’ light to even see the ugly things and acknowledge they are there?

Every day I’m more and more grateful I serve a God who loves me too much to leave me in the sinful state He found me. His deepest desire is for me to become exactly who He originally created me to be, so He keeps spotlighting one little area at a time and taking back ground in my life I didn’t even know I had given up to the enemy or needed to be conquered.

Following Jesus makes me stronger. He makes me better. No one else gets the credit for that.

Birthday Waves

It’s no secret my children enjoy challenging my creative abilities when it comes to their birthday cakes.  And it’s no secret creating their imaginations brings me much joy.

For her 13^th birthday, which is a slightly big milestone in my mind, my daughter asked for a from-scratch chocolate cake with chocolate mousse decorated with an exact replica of her surfboard surfing a wave. Oh my.

First let me tell you, ideas for how to create a 3D ocean wave were completely absent in my online and Pinterest searches. Second, my daughter might have changed her mind three times within the week before her birthday about what would be acceptable to her. Third, I have skills, but no training. Any skills I posses are winging-it at best (Thank you Lord for an inkling of artistic talent.). My daughter has more decorating and baking experience than I do at this point, but she has been gracious, and after a few terse exchanges about the mind-changing difficulties, she stepped back and let me do my thing.

To say the oversized-cupcake result represents a monumental amount of failures would be an understatement. Compared to the vision in my head, this is an artistic Pinterest fail. I’d also give myself a D+ on execution and technique. (If you had only seen my kitchen in this process…eye roll.)

But as I stepped back to survey the end product, for an untrained decorator with no source of inspiration other than my daughter’s surfboard, it’s not half bad. It’s almost even pretty. Others might find it incredible. The artist is always their biggest critic.

And all I could do was think about my daughter and me and surfing and life and all the lessons held within this experience.

Our ideations of how life should turn out rarely come to fruition the way we envision, but along the way, on the journey, in the process, we learn invaluable lessons.

At one point in my complete frustration with icing the project, my daughter walked over and gently came alongside me and just helped. She didn’t placate me with encouraging words that weren’t true. She didn’t say anything negative or positive about the wreck that was unfolding in front of me. She just offered to help. Then with calm confidence, she did. She fixed the issue, and in the process taught me how someone can be gracious with their help, how someone coming alongside you can calm with just their presence, how tackling problems together without a lot of words is worth its weight in gold. She got me back on track, then walked away, leaving me encouraged to keep moving forward and able to manage what was in front of me.

She’s good at that. Her confidence, when bridled with gentility and grace, guides others. Life’s kinks and bumps in the road have never phased her for long. She just takes it as it comes, and like surfing, sometimes she catches the ride while other times she waits for the spin cycle to end to take a breath.  But no matter the outcome, she gets back on that board and paddles back out because the thrill of trying is worth possibly getting crushed, and if you’re out there in the line up with friends, even better. She’s a ride or die kind of friend that would rather encourage you to keep going with her than throw in the towel. She’ll laugh with you, not at you, then laugh at herself harder.

All these lessons from one almost-failed attempt at a birthday cake. All these lessons from my girl. I hope the lessons keep coming. I hope I’m never too proud to learn from the younger, to learn from the mistakes, to keep trying, to keep paddling back out.

Happy 13^th birthday, Savannah Lee. I pray for many more years of learning our way together through this life because one thing’s for sure, you’re gonna make it fun. Hugs, your Mama