ThinkBlog

I’ve had these bad habits in relationships, you see. First, when I was younger in my Walk, it was this confusion between the love of women and the Love of God. Then, it became a kind of pride that hid behind apologies that stumble all over themselves—apologies for “unloading” on someone.

Not to be unnecessarily cryptic, let me clothe those latter bones with a bit of flesh. I have this habit of opening up to someone I’m close to—and then backtracking through apology, offering my “sorry” for what amounts to being human. The concept that I’m not Atlas and, in order to have a meaningful relationship, I have to make myself vulnerable enough to be me without flinching at the potential disappointment in others, is still fresh, and difficult.

“I’m more aware now than ever,” I said, “that I can’t confuse [mortal and immortal love].” But then, having borne my soul tonight, I felt intensely the lack of armor, and began formulating an apology: “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to burden you; I know you have so much to deal with anyway; and besides, it’s not that big of a deal….” (By the way, that last bit would have been a lie.)

There are times when such an apology is apt, as when you overstep yourself at a cocktail party with some acquaintances who are now privy to the skeleton at the very top of your closet. But not so here, so when I realized what was boiling behind that coalescing apology and, indeed, behind most of them in the past (you know, while we’re being honest), I stopped up short, silent. What I really wanted to ask was, “Am I still worth the trouble, now that you know I’m so ridiculously, desperately, disappointingly human?”

And it was as if Christ stepped between her eyes and mine and said, “Behold my hands, and feet; and do you ask if you’re worth it? Whence comes your worth, brother? You are aware more now than ever, aye? Believe in God; believe also in Me. Behold, I am with you always. Now, get over your pride and express your gratitude, brother to sister. Tonight she has carried your mat.”

After a day of eyeborne daggers and of unseen flaming darts, the end thereof was salve. After long days of pacing outside, shivering, unsure of the invitation, tonight I cracked the throne room door and met with peace. Thank you, Jesus.

I’ve had these bad habits in relationships, you see. First, when I was younger in my Walk, it was this confusion between the love of women and the Love of God. Then, it became a kind of pride that hid behind apologies that stumble all over themselves—apologies for “unloading” on someone.

Not to be unnecessarily cryptic, let me clothe those latter bones with a bit of flesh. I have this habit of opening up to someone I’m close to—and then backtracking through apology, offering my “sorry” for what amounts to being human. The concept that I’m not Atlas and, in order to have a meaningful relationship, I have to make myself vulnerable enough to be me without flinching at the potential disappointment in others, is still fresh, and difficult.

“I’m more aware now than ever,” I said, “that I can’t confuse [mortal and immortal love].” But then, having borne my soul tonight, I felt intensely the lack of armor, and began formulating an apology: “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to burden you; I know you have so much to deal with anyway; and besides, it’s not that big of a deal….” (By the way, that last bit would have been a lie.)

There are times when such an apology is apt, as when you overstep yourself at a cocktail party with some acquaintances who are now privy to the skeleton at the very top of your closet. But not so here, so when I realized what was boiling behind that coalescing apology and, indeed, behind most of them in the past (you know, while we’re being honest), I stopped up short, silent. What I really wanted to ask was, “Am I still worth the trouble, now that you know I’m so ridiculously, desperately, disappointingly human?”

And it was as if Christ stepped between her eyes and mine and said, “Behold my hands, and feet; and do you ask if you’re worth it? Whence comes your worth, brother? You are aware more now than ever, aye? Believe in God; believe also in Me. Behold, I am with you always. Now, get over your pride and express your gratitude, brother to sister. Tonight she has carried your mat.”

After a day of eyeborne daggers and of unseen flaming darts, the end thereof was salve. After long days of pacing outside, shivering, unsure of the invitation, tonight I cracked the throne room door and met with peace. Thank you, Jesus.