socially awkward

Back to Loving Being Me

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It really is okay to love yourself. After all, the Bible does say to love your neighbor as yourself and you can’t very well do that if you’re not too fond of you. I think there’s a kind of false modesty that gets passed around where we have the “aw shucks” mentality and downplay any compliments that come our way. I can tell you for certain that kind of thinking doesn’t come from God or the Bible.

God made you. He created you exactly how He wanted you to be and no matter how many scars and breaks and bruises and messes you may have accumulated along the way, He still loves the work of His own hands– you. No matter how you may have been rejected or friend-zoned by girls or guys, God is enraptured and enamored and captivated by you. He is completely and totally crazy in love with you.

I’m loving being me. I can say that I’m not like anybody else out there. That doesn’t make me odd. That might make me eccentric. What that does make me for absolute certain is unique. There is no one in the whole wide world quite like me, and I like that.

I love that I can be socially awkward at times. I love that I can be overly enthusiastic in my friendliness and sometimes be perceived as coming across a little creepy.  That’s okay. Aside from maybe needing to visit Decaf-land from time to time, I’m fine if not every single person likes what I have to offer. Many people were turned off by Jesus.

I love that when God sees me, He sees Jesus. He sees beauty and perfection and wisdom and strength beyond measure. He sees my very best self, the one only hinted at in my best moments of selfless devotion. He sees the finished product of who I will become.

As of this moment, I refuse to take on myself any names other than the ones He has given me. Not from family or friends. Not from co-workers. Not even from me. I don’t have to be defined by words spoken in frustration or anger or resignation. I am no longer the mistakes I’ve made or the chances I’ve missed or the good intentions coming up short.

I am Forgiven. I am Set Free. I am Redeemed. I am A New Creation. I am Blameless.

Of all the names God has given me, my favorite is this: I am His Beloved Son in whom He is well pleased.

My hope and prayer for you tonight is to let go of all the names you or anyone else has called you out of hate or anger and embrace the name given in love by your Creator and Redeemer and Savior. Listen to Him calling you His Beloved Child. Hear Him singing His delight over you and smiling over you. Let your life be defined by God’s pleasure over you instead of people’s disappointment in you.

I truly hope and pray that you will come to the point where you can truly and honestly say that you love being you.

A Letter from Jesus to His Church

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Disclaimer: If you’re looking for something warm and fuzzy and feel-good, this is not it. You can skip to the next blog, which will be about fuzzy bunnies and cute kittens.

I was wondering if Jesus wrote a letter to one of his churches, particularly the post-modern trendy churches popping up all over the place, I’d bet it would go something like this:

“I came to one of your services and sat in the back row. I felt unwelcome and unwanted. Nobody turned around and greeted me. Nobody even so much as acknowledged my presence there.

They sang songs about me with great enthusiasm, about how great I am to save and how mighty God is. The preacher spoke at great length about how important it is to know me. But I walked in and out of the building and no one even saw me.

You have an amazing facility with some of the latest technology. You have some of the best singers and musicians leading the worship and one of the best speakers to motivate my people. But if there’s no real love behind it, it’s all just noise. And I didn’t see much love.

I came as one of the least of these. The outcast, the loser, the nobody. The ones you say you love, but your actions prove otherwise.

Get back to loving the unlovely. Don’t just associate with the popular and the trendy and those who have it all together. Take time for the ones who are sitting by themselves, who are  socially awkward, who can’t do anything for you and probably can’t even say “Thank you.”

When you serve one of the least of these, you serve me. When you ignore them you ignore me.

Remember that I loved you when you were one of these. I loved you when you hated me, when your life was a wreck and you were hopelessly lost. Remember how that love felt and how it made you come alive. Then go and share it with someone who needs it most.

 

A Desparate Prayer

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Have you ever been to a party and found out you were being socially awkward? Did you feel like you were trying too hard and forcing conversation and you imagined the other person was like, “Please, just stop talking before you hurt yourself”? Did you think to yourself, “Wow. Did I really just say that? What the heck?” and find that you couldn’t make yourself stop?

Have you ever felt like you were forcing a friendship or other relationship instead of letting God guide it in His own way? Did you feel that even you knew that God’s plan for the relationship was better that you couldn’t stop trying to take control?

Have you ever felt like no matter how you jumped through all the religious hoops, you never could pray enough or evangelize enough or worship loud enough to meet the exacting standards?

Then you probably know what the tax-collector felt when he prayed, “God, be merciful to me, the sinner.”

Note: He didn’t say that he was a sinner, one among many, but the sinner. Not just someone who messes up, but isn’t as bad as others, but the chief of sinners. That’s from the Greek.

Guess what? When you can pray that prayer and mean it, you are truly set free.

You are set free from trying to earn God’s approval, as well as the approval of others. You find that approval is already yours through the finished work of Jesus Christ. You find that you are good enough, because God says you are good enough.

If you’ve ever gone through a season where you can see your own brokenness, then you know that sometimes the only words you can find to pray are “Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.”

God says that He is close to the cries of the broken-hearted, those who know they don’t have what it takes in and of themselves. His strength is still made complete when we confess that we are weak and not only confess, but boast in that very weakness.

May that be your prayer today. “God, be merciful to me, the sinner.”

And go to fellowshipnashville.org to check out the sermon on which most of this was based. It’s amazing.

Whatever you did to the least of these, you did it to Me.

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“The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40).

I have been thinking about that verse quite a bit today. Not so much in the sense of the poor and downtrodden, which is obviously the main ones Jesus is talking about here. But what if at one point I am the least of these. Or what if you are the least of these. How would you treat me? How would I treat you?

I’d like to think I would treat you with respect and dignity and be Jesus to you. The truth is that whatever I do or don’t do to you at that moment of your utmost weakness, I do to Jesus. It’s interesting that Jesus always identifies with the broken and downcast and outcasts rather than identifying with those who are socially acceptable (like I tend to do nearly all the time).

Am I ignoring Jesus in someone else because He doesn’t look or act like me? Am I brushing past Him when I walk past someone who is less polished and more socially awkward? If I am harsh and critical with myself when I am at my lowest ebb, what am I saying to Jesus? Whatever you and I did or didn’t do to the least of these, my brothers and sisters, you and I did or didn’t do to Jesus.

So treat everyone you meet like you would treat Jesus, all of us go through times in our lives when we can identify with the least of these through our brokenness and weakness. In the end, what will matter most will be what we did or didn’t do for the least of these, whether they were living in a cardboard box in the slums or in a mansion.