True Story

I just finished reading a book. A book! I read something that wasn’t required for school! Despite my love for reading, this has been far too uncommon the past few years. It was called True Story: A Christianity Worth Believing In. It was about many of the questions that Christianity faces, to put it simply. I’m still processing, but I can say for sure it’s changed how I picture heaven and how I will present the gospel from now on. There was one thing that hit me especially hard. It wasn’t necessarily what the book said, but more what it made me think about. There was a section talking about forgiveness. Of course, I was confidently sitting on my high horse with a beaming smile, claiming that forgiveness comes pretty naturally to me; I don’t really hold grudges. After all, in general, the only people who hurt me are those whom I love, who are close enough to hurt me. And in most cases, I love them enough where, after some time, I have no problem forgiving them. They’re people who care about me in return, and having them in my life is worth sacrificing my pride enough to accept their apologies and forgive them. Essentially I was taking pride in the fact that I can set aside my pride in order to forgive, when I was faced with a realization.

I’ve heard the cliché phrase before, “I’m my own worst critic.” Or it may be “hardest critic” or something else of the sort, but either way, it’s most definitely true. Not gonna lie, I’ve put myself through a lot of crap. That’s what comes along with being a perfectionist—high expectations and a lot of letdowns. I was just reflecting earlier this afternoon on how I think I often appear more confident than I actually am…but do I really lack that much confidence? I don’t think so. I often feel like I know what I’m doing, at least to a certain extent—maybe not in the important things like life, but I’m pretty comfortable with knowing that I’ll never actually know that; what I need to know will come in time. I think the lack of confidence I so often experience is my distrust of what I’m going to end up putting myself through. I think I might be okay at forgiving others, but what about forgiving myself? I jokingly place the blame on others, even inanimate objects—like in racquetball, when I miss the ball because it was awkwardly close to the wall, it’s the wall’s fault. Or a joke between Sharon and me, “blame in on the Smurfs.” In reality, though, I blame myself for just about all of the negative things that have happened in my life. I overcomplicate, overanalyze, overreact…all to my detriment. Until my freshman year of high school, I couldn’t even laugh at myself. I’ve since learned to approach my downfalls with a little more of a sense of humor, but it’s still not easy.

This isn’t at all to say I should avoid responsibility for my faults and the wrongs that I’ve caused. Rather, I think I need to readjust my view. As a Christian, being forgiven is a huge part of my identity—why can’t I accept that? God expects me to take up my cross and follow him, entailing that I try (through his power) to become more like Christ and further the kingdom of God. Fortunately he doesn’t expect perfection from me, or even anything resembling it. When I screw up, it’s still wrong and I need to try not to, but it will be okay. Do I hold myself to higher standards than God holds me to? Something’s wrong with that. I need to stop, I need to forgive myself for the hell I’ve put myself through, for times I’ve hurt my friends and family, for saying hurtful things I don’t mean, and for the struggle that last semester was. Only then can there be reconciliation and reparation.

On another note, I figured out something else. Anyone who knows me well knows that I can often get somewhat jealous of my friends’ other friends. I’ve never been entirely sure of why. I think the reason is multifaceted, and I’ve speculated on many of the reasons and identified some, but I found another: I’m afraid the time a friend of mine spends with someone else will devalue the relationship that friend has with me. I had a hard time coming to terms with how ridiculous this was until I realize that it’s exactly what I do. When I go a while without seeing one of my friends, I still love that person (and always will), but they really do mean less to me. Even with someone I see on a regular basis, if I start spending my time with other people, I value my other relationships less. And here I am, afraid that my friends will do the same to me. It’s horrible, I know. I acknowledge that. I'm truly sorry to all those this affects. It’s something I need to work on.

So where does this leave me? I have no idea, but I’ve learned a lot today. I don’t know how this will affect tomorrow, but for now it’s time to stop thinking and sleep before my class tomorrow morning.