Freedom
Let me tell you about a student who sits right beside my desk. I'll give you three chances to guess why he sits in that particular seat, and the first two don't count. This guy drives me crazy! He spends his time in my class constantly looking at the other students and thinking of things to say that will make them laugh. (Mostly quotes from Rush Hour 2.)
He's a classic class clown. Needless to say these behaviors often interfere with his learning; he'll be lucky to get credit for my class at all. You might be thinking that I dislike this student of mine, but I don't. At heart, he's a good kid -- he just exhausts me. In fact, there's a tender spot right in the middle of my heart for him.
I've been teaching for a while now (next year will be number ten), and I've learned quite a bit about human nature in that time. I can tell you that the atmosphere in the room shifts in just this certain way when a punch is about to be thrown, and nothing brings people together like a shared laugh; it really is the shortest distance between two people. I've also learned that people worry about what others think, especially teens, especially class clowns.
That's why my heart goes out to my young student. I get it. He puffs up at the smallest perceived slight from one of his classmates, using up all his energy. I've had several one-on-one conversations with him about how his classmates sense this vulnerability and use it to pick on him. It's just so easy to get a rise out of him. Not to mention that it makes them feel better about their own insecurities. Yet he just can't stop. He's so caught up in this trap of his own making that he can't get out. It's wearing him out, and he's probably going to fail tenth grade English because of it.
Here's the thing. If you're human, then you've been in the trap too, maybe not to the extent my student is, but it's an unavoidable part of life. I'll own up to it. Many of my own deepest, secret fears hinge on other people's opinions. After a conversation with a friend, I'll think, "Why did you say that? It sounded so dumb." Here's a sampling of other sentences I've said to myself, "People think you're a failure." "You need to do nice things for people because they won't like you for any other reason." "You aren't worthy of genuine love."
Ouch. Right? I'm guessing you've probably heard that kind of stuff in your own head too. I'm sure you've also tried to battle those thoughts. I know I have. I've tried to work harder and reasoned with myself, but neither one of those is a long term solution to the problem. It's too big. The burden is too heavy to carry alone.
Interestingly enough the answer turns out to be just forget about it. I'm serious. C.S. Lewis says that humility isn't thinking less of yourself (which is what all those voices of insecurity are telling you to do), but to think of yourself less. Here's what Jesus says, "If your first concern is to look after yourself, you'll never find yourself. But if you forget about yourself and look to me, you'll find both yourself and me" (Matt. 10:39 MSG).
All right, I know the idea seems counter intuitive, but it works. Don't be afraid that you'll lose what makes you - you. I promise you won't be any less yourself. In fact, you'll be more yourself than you ever were before. C.S. Lewis uses the example of salt. If you put it on your tongue, the taste is so strong that you'd think it would over power the taste of your food, but it doesn't. When you put it on your food it brings out the flavors that are already there. Salt makes ham more hammy and baked beans more beany. Jesus does the same thing inside of us.
Giving yourself away to him seems like a radical step in which you will surely get lost; however, it turns out to be a radical step in which you actually get found. In his essay called "Meekness and Rest" A.W. Tozer concludes,
He's a classic class clown. Needless to say these behaviors often interfere with his learning; he'll be lucky to get credit for my class at all. You might be thinking that I dislike this student of mine, but I don't. At heart, he's a good kid -- he just exhausts me. In fact, there's a tender spot right in the middle of my heart for him.
I've been teaching for a while now (next year will be number ten), and I've learned quite a bit about human nature in that time. I can tell you that the atmosphere in the room shifts in just this certain way when a punch is about to be thrown, and nothing brings people together like a shared laugh; it really is the shortest distance between two people. I've also learned that people worry about what others think, especially teens, especially class clowns.
That's why my heart goes out to my young student. I get it. He puffs up at the smallest perceived slight from one of his classmates, using up all his energy. I've had several one-on-one conversations with him about how his classmates sense this vulnerability and use it to pick on him. It's just so easy to get a rise out of him. Not to mention that it makes them feel better about their own insecurities. Yet he just can't stop. He's so caught up in this trap of his own making that he can't get out. It's wearing him out, and he's probably going to fail tenth grade English because of it.
Here's the thing. If you're human, then you've been in the trap too, maybe not to the extent my student is, but it's an unavoidable part of life. I'll own up to it. Many of my own deepest, secret fears hinge on other people's opinions. After a conversation with a friend, I'll think, "Why did you say that? It sounded so dumb." Here's a sampling of other sentences I've said to myself, "People think you're a failure." "You need to do nice things for people because they won't like you for any other reason." "You aren't worthy of genuine love."
Ouch. Right? I'm guessing you've probably heard that kind of stuff in your own head too. I'm sure you've also tried to battle those thoughts. I know I have. I've tried to work harder and reasoned with myself, but neither one of those is a long term solution to the problem. It's too big. The burden is too heavy to carry alone.
Interestingly enough the answer turns out to be just forget about it. I'm serious. C.S. Lewis says that humility isn't thinking less of yourself (which is what all those voices of insecurity are telling you to do), but to think of yourself less. Here's what Jesus says, "If your first concern is to look after yourself, you'll never find yourself. But if you forget about yourself and look to me, you'll find both yourself and me" (Matt. 10:39 MSG).
All right, I know the idea seems counter intuitive, but it works. Don't be afraid that you'll lose what makes you - you. I promise you won't be any less yourself. In fact, you'll be more yourself than you ever were before. C.S. Lewis uses the example of salt. If you put it on your tongue, the taste is so strong that you'd think it would over power the taste of your food, but it doesn't. When you put it on your food it brings out the flavors that are already there. Salt makes ham more hammy and baked beans more beany. Jesus does the same thing inside of us.
Giving yourself away to him seems like a radical step in which you will surely get lost; however, it turns out to be a radical step in which you actually get found. In his essay called "Meekness and Rest" A.W. Tozer concludes,
To men and women everywhere Jesus says, "Come unto me, and I will give you rest." The rest he offers is the rest of meekness, the blessed relief which comes when we accept ourselves for what we are and cease to pretend. It will take some courage at first, but the needed grace will come as we learn that we are sharing this new and easy yoke with the strong Son of God Himself. He calls it 'my yoke,' and he walks at one end while we walk at the other.Here's the thing, loved one, you don't have to face each day with the exhausting task of pretending. Take the mask off, please. You are valuable, wonderful, and beautiful -- not the fake you, the real you. In Jesus you can find the liberating ability to be yourself.
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