It’s a new year and time to start writing again, if only life will cooperate. Since life almost never cooperates with my desire for long spaces of silence and peppermint tea, I’m writing for five minutes with the community at Five Minute Friday. My goal is to write each week on Friday but here it is week #2, Saturday and I’ve already missed week #1. If you enjoy writing in community, consider joining us.
Last Tuesday night, a community of women (plus Steve) I gather with listened to our teacher talk about our will to be loved. Why is it hard, she asked, for us to receive compliments? To accept gentle and loving touch? To let ourselves be loved?
My husband doesn’t think I have this problem—he says my only love language problem is that I’m fluent in all five and like a sponge, can’t soak up enough. In a way, he’s right. I tend to say, “I receive that,” when someone compliments me. Not because I’m sure it’s true but because it does grow old to always be on the defensive, fighting off any encouragement people care to give.
As I thought about what my teacher shared, and why it can be difficult to trust the good that others see in us or want to give to us, I could only think about control. Being in control makes us the masters of our own fate but we are woefully inadequate for the task. So we shrug off the shoulder squeeze, the kind word, the insight that makes us uncomfortable because we are really living poorly as our own masters. The encouragement that comes is meant to strengthen us for our true task: living as reflections of God’s beautiful image; when we are living as our own god, encouragement does nothing for us but call our attention to our humiliating failures.
Living with limits, being ourselves, reflecting God’s image: these are the places where encouragement can give our wobbling knees and faltering hearts the courage they need to go on. Moving ahead in our idolatry of self only makes the kind words of a sister fall flat.