New Beginnings

Years ago, bodies piled onto pillows and old futon cushions, we were just chill, enjoying the music, each other. The room was dark and damp, the basement of some campus house. People were passing around a guitar- some seriously, soulfully belting tunes. Others goofed off, rhyming, strumming, laughing. Most did their best Eddie Vedder impression. This group of people, they were linked to one another through hours spent, a common goal and slight inebriation. I always felt a bit outside of the circle, but it was the year the towers fell, the year the war began, the year everyone had more in common. And, that night, we were all so laid-back it didn't matter. It felt like home.

Last night, this scene, or the flavor of it, was fresh in my mind- superimposed into present circumstances. I had been invited to a worship night at someone's home. The night was labeled "New Beginnings" which made me chuckle when I read the invitation. I arrived and sat in a room full of strangers and near-strangers and we were worshipping Jesus through song, prayer, writing. In the midst of all of this "other", all of this unkown, I had this very tangible image of Jesus, lying on his back. His arms were crossed behind his head, a make-shift pillow. His legs bent, one over the other, so that his right foot bobbed slightly to the music. He was smiling and seemed so comfortable. Happy to be in the room, with these people, with us. It was such a comfortable scene. Like the scene from years back in that basement. It was as though the people who know you best in the world, the ones you don't think twice wearing your pajamas in front of, were all gathered solely for the purpose of, like, enjoying the mood, man.

I spent yesterday interacting with new people in several contexts, on a campus where I will soon spend my life, in interviews and meetings, apartment tours. Most people were nice, but it was all a bit awkward. Every interaction had the sting of diving into a cold pool on a hot day. I was grateful for the change of temperature, but still shocked by how it felt, a bit thrown-off. Driving back from Ashland to Columbus (to join yet another group of new people), I started talking to Jesus. Thanking him for arranging details, asking him to help me not to worry, not to be overwhelmed, not to feel self-conscious, not to try and earn approval.

There is this thing that sometimes happens when I am with people who have known me for a long time. People who grew up with me, watched me grow up, knew me when I was obsessed with earning my approval- both from God and from others around me, especially authority figures. I become self-conscious. feel the old pull to please, to make them like me, to make them happy with me, even though it's not necessary. Even though I've got all the approval and love I need- and there's nothing I've done, nothing I ever can do to earn it.

I still slip into it at times, even with people I know now. Lately, I've been noticing myself doing it with Jesus. There are new things I'm excited about (seminary!) and so fear creeps in, telling me all the ways it could go wrong, all of the things I could mess up, all the ways that the exciting things could flop and just not happen. Sometimes, I handle it well. Sometimes, I go to Jesus and I say, "Look friend, I am afraid. Help me not to be afraid. Help me to focus on you and how you always get me through" But sometimes, lately, I go to Jesus and I review my recent actions. I find myself subtley listing for him all of the things I haven't messed up, all of the things I've tried to do right- as if this has any bearing on the outcome of situations, on how he feels about me, on his favor and love and approval... on his permission.

I was praying in the car about this. Because this whole day of newness, new people, had thrown me off. I was longing to make good impressions. I wanted people to like me. I want to do well. I want to feel okay. And yesterday, in the newness, I slipped into the old ways. So, in the car, I told Jesus this, on the way back from a new place, on the way to meeting even more new people, telling him that I just wanted to sit with him. I wanted to forget about the newness and just feel comfortable. I wanted to be genuine, God-conscious and not self-conscious.

I had this picture of myself as a beggar on the street, asking people for what I need. In my pocket, I had keys to a house where everything I could ask, things I didn't even know I wanted but that I longed for were laid on the table, free for the taking. But I kept asking the people on the street for them. Every once in a while, I'd walk to the house, stand by the windows and peek in. Sometimes, I'd make pro & con lists- reasons I deserved to go in and reasons I had no right to darken the door. I'd leave them on the stoop and walk away with the key in my pocket.

Last night, in the midst of newness and anxiety, I experienced the sweetness of Jesus- a place of comfort, feeling so very known by Him, even in a room full of new people. A little while after Jesus finished bobbing his foot to the rhythm, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall. Somehow, I was not surprised to picture/imagine/feel/acknowledge his arm around me. He had shifted from the floor and was sitting close, leaning with me against the wall, offering his shoulder to lean on, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I sighed and smiled.

New Beginnings