M.A.S.H.

It seems like life was so much easier when we were little. We never or at least very rarely had to question our choices and the subsequent consequences we had to deal with were minimal at best. Nowadays, it seems like I second-guess everything. Did I wear the right shirt? Is it too tight? Not tight enough? Should I wear short pants? Makeup? What about my hair? Should I dye it? Shave it? Straighten it? Grow it? While all of these questions may not relate to you, for me, trying to navigate the land of constant decision-making makes for a rough day. Should I call? Should I apply for this job? Is this love? Ah, and that’s when it hits me.

You see, when I was little, ‘love’ or what I thought I knew about it was simple enough to figure out in a little game called MASH.

*embarrassing confession*

My friend and I were playing it the other day and I smiled at how arbitrary and final those little hash marks seemed at the end of the game. Who needs a five-year plan when all you need is notebook paper, your top three choices for each category and hash marks? It’s like I could see my life plan unfolding and there was a happy little way to get somewhere splayed out in front of me; complete with the winners circled and the losers inevitably scratched out, so as not to make a mistake when counting. Now granted, it wasn’t my dream…to live in a shack with four great danes and a butler, but it’s what the hash marks predicted. And somehow in that instant, oddly enough, it was a great relief to finally feel like my life was headed some place and that in the end, that final destination was actually somewhere and it was somehow related to the choices I’ve made along the way. It was comforting to see that even though the dream wasn’t necessarily attained, that there was some kind of finality to it. It was comforting, even just for the second I let myself get caught up with the game, to know that where I'd end up wouldn't be where I currently am. Odd, I know.

I guess I just didn’t take the time to realize that life had become complicated, that people play for keeps- whether it’s another’s heart or simply their own, and the choices I make today may not have an affect on tomorrow. But they could quite possibly have an affect on next week. Or someone else's day, week, life. It's no longer a world of make believe. And I don't exist in a vacuum.

I don’t mean to say that I wish I could just live a life that is dictated- I certainly enjoy my freedom- but it just seems that a little direction, a little guidance towards the right way would really silence my questions. Or at least part of them. But then again, maybe it’s a faith exercise. You see? It's this constant barrage of options, questions and thoughts that exist within my skull and chest. They war each other daily and it's tiring.

Does it ever get easier? Do we ever reach a point where we just know that where we’re headed is the right place? Or is it my faith in God that the place I’ll end up is the right place and the path along the way is really a matter of faith, finding Him and Him showing me who I am along the way?

Is God a God of the end justifies the means?

freedom

Today is difficult for our generation…we are told we can be anything, do anything, go anywhere, outlive our parents, be different from everyone because we are unique; and it’s sad because most people will do all of those things. It seems like the one thing we aren’t encouraged to be is ourselves. It’s like we live in this schizophrenic/ADD world that has no clue where we are going because we are so caught up in becoming something that stands out. And oddly, what that ends up looking like ultimately is a society that looks alike, talks alike and yes, even dates and marries the same people. It’s sad.

In our endless search for what we think we want to be, we have lost sight of who we were created to be and Who we were created by and for. We are inundated with the message that we must be different, look different and act different…and well, we’ve missed that. We shop at the same stores- all looking for that original style…and most people will just leave their own self at home, because somehow we’ve learned that it isn’t good enough. So in order to measure up to arbitrary and asinine standards, that truly contradict themselves, we abandon the only Person who can even begin to tell us exactly who we are and we look to others who are just as flawed (and in competition with us) to shed some light on our worth. So we fight to become our own, we have labels, we are labeled…and comparing the two categories of labels ours and His…it’s astounding to see the difference.

Slut, happy, bitchy, immature, old, cranky, funny, boring, witty, pretty, ugly, stupid, dumb, ridiculous, insane, fat, skinny, anorexic, successful, failure, liar, goody-two-shoes, rebel, hellion, brown nose, suck up, sarcastic, mean, rude, unkind…we use these labels and more to try and sum up who we are, who we think others are, and what we think about our interactions with them. And truth be told, they change sometimes minute by minute. Some days we like each other and others, and in the next minute we could be at each other’s throats. So much judging goes on day to day. We judge so we don’t get judged. We judge harshly in order to keep the ones we perceive as a threat to stay away. We judge ourselves so when another judges us, there's no surprise.

But there is an alternative…here’s another list that I have come to cherish:

I am loved first, far above rubies, more than a conqueror, set apart, His, sought after, in His righteousness, rejoiced over with singing…

It goes on and on…these are just some of my favorites. And once I remember to bathe in the Truth, to remember Whose I am, the striving ceases. There is no competition, no fear of losing my status with Him, no wondering what He says about me when I walk out of the room or have a bad day, no fear of what may befall me because quite frankly, I am summed up by Him. He knows me. He says what I am. He has the right to condemn me, to throw stones, to hate me, to ignore me, to chastise me, to make fun of my imperfections, to leave me hanging, to make me feel inadequate…but He doesn’t. He loves me. It’s incredible, really. But He does. And it’s the safest I’ve ever been.

And so when I’m running around this world, trying to be different, but trying to be normal and I feel crazy, I try to remember that He is my audience. That other people’s opinions only matter if I put stock in them and that it is exhausting and ridiculous to continue to try and do things to please the people I really have no interest in, outside of gaining their approval!