All summer long, I wrestled (and continue to wrestle) with my self-centeredness, particularly when I am experiencing a strong negative emotion such as anger, fear, or sadness. This struggle happens all the time, and those who know me well know my tendency to withdraw and focus on it by myself, but at BayUP there's not a lot of space or time to be alone, and I was not always willing/able to articulate the space I needed. Thus, I began to feel trapped and saw others (students, staff, innocent bystanders) as agents of my captivity. I resented the people around me for being too loud, or not speaking up enough, or making my life more challenging by asking questions, as though they had nothing better to do than to absorb my time and irritate me with trivialities.
Ah, yes. The noble plight of the introvert.
Even though I knew that everyone was actively processing, projecting, or fleeing from their own issues--same as me, so we're all in the same boat--it was challenging to maintain that perspective in the swirl of my own reactions and resist the tendency to blame others for how I felt when I was around them. I'd be thinking thoughts like: "Their inside jokes make me feel like an outsider; therefore, I am justified in blaming them for my sadness and assuming they don't want me around". I experienced the poison of my pride--I don't want to ask the questions that would help me to understand this person or situation better, because then I have to forfeit my right to be a victim, which is the only thing keeping my vulnerability contained. I know I have a choice to open up or shut down, and I choose the distorted sense of control I feel when I shut down.
But what happens if I choose out of this pattern? What other choices are available to me?
When I experience God as the one who draws near to me in my pain--the one who is neither indifferent nor overwhelmed, but wholly present with me--I can look without judgment on my emotions and know that my identity isn't defined by whatever I'm experiencing. That makes just enough space to take a breath, refrain from blaming everyone within my field of vision, and let truth illuminate the way forward.
For me, the way forward was acknowledging that I had let my own emotional responses cloud my ability to engage with the frequent injustices occurring in Oakland. In order to that, I had to be willing to say I had made a mistake rather than justifying my mistake by pointing to what others had done. After that, there was a time for me to apologize for the harm I had done to multiple individuals. And after that, I listened to others share about how my actions affected them and I owned the consequences.
The only one who could have convinced me to lower my shields instead of running away was Jesus. He encouraged me that the truth would set me free, and moreover he made it clear that it was what he wanted. Because I have made the choice to live under his leadership, he was giving me the opportunity to affirm that choice by obeying his voice. It wasn't magical or heroic what I did--it was simply me following through on promises I made, and that follow-through allowed me to see what God can do with submitted hearts.
He redeems the broken trust and makes the relationships even more secure, grace-filled, and loving than they were before. This reality is what gives me hope. Someone much bigger and better than me is guiding me and will not fail to turn my mistakes into blessing when I acknowledge them before him.
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