Here’s a question – where do you find your worth? I mean really – not the Sunday School answer (Jesus). Obviously, we all know that is what we’re supposed to do, and those of us who have been around the Church for very long are constantly trying to lean into that more and more each day we live. But really though. Don’t most of us listen to the things those around us tell us, and derive at least some of our value from that? (Maybe not and I’m just giving myself away here – but I’ve been doing this human-thing for a good bit now, and I doubt that’s the case…)
The past few weeks have been a little rough. Lots of difficult things in relationships that are important to me. I received a lot of hard things, most of them with a definitive slant to it being my fault. And some of it was. But a lot of it wasn’t. And that last sentence took a lot of growth and processing for me to say. Because, while most people don’t know this about me (or about most Enneagram 1’s for that matter), I’m not as tough as I look, and all criticism, particularly of a character nature, sits hard and heavy on my soul, adding to a narrative of unworthiness that I am just learning to unwrite. I (and the rest of my small group – made up completely of other Enneagram 1’s) was fascinated at my recent Transforming Center retreat to hear our facilitator (a 3 married to a 1 for 56 years…) say to us, “You know that inner critic that you have that constantly berates you and tells you that you aren’t good enough? (All of us nodding in unison…) Well, the rest of us don’t have one of those.” To say that we were corporately stunned would be an understatement. We were in shock. And also in doubt. But no, she assured us, it was just. us. Well, alrighty then…
So, when I hear criticism about me – it’s loud. And perceived to be correct. For me to hear criticism and be able to sort through it to find the stuff that isn’t actually true, or might be the other person’s problem, and throw that out, has taken, and is taking, a lot of soul work. And a lot of discernment. And a lot of rewriting narratives that are as familiar to me as Little House on the Prairie (which I read in its entirety at least 3-4 times in my childhood, and watched every episode Michael Landon ever played in, and then read to my kids as well).
A friend asked me recently, “Why are those voices louder than the voices that think you’re great or encourage you?” It was an intriguing question. And while there may be a buffet of reasons, I told her that part of the reason is that those voices really ARE louder – and more frequent – than the others. It’s the downside of looking like you’ve got it all together, I guess. People think you actually do! And sometimes, that sucks. A couple of years ago when I was sharing with a small group how I was really struggling emotionally, I actually had a friend, a pretty good friend in fact, who said to me, “I’m so surprised. I thought you never struggled with anything.” Ummm – ok? Thanks, I think? So, the downside of looking like you’ve got it together, or being fairly competent in what you do, is that no one feels there’s any need to encourage you. (If you’ve got an Enneagram 1 in your life, take some time to tell them what you like about them. They’ll appreciate it, even if they don’t say so.)
And this brings me to contemplative practices. Because to be honest, it is my immersion over this past 16 months in spiritual formation and contemplative spiritual practices that has put me in a place to be able to look at things differently. Richard Foster says, “The contemplative life is the steady gaze of the soul upon the God who loves us.”
“Steady gaze of the soul…” When I think of the word gaze, as compared to the word “stare,” or even the phrase “fix your eyes,” it just has a different vibe. Picture a person staring. There’s usually a little bit of negative connotation in that. Staring is mindless at best, or malicious at worst. Imagine someone fixing their eyes on someone. Now you’ve moved into the realm of creepster… But then visualize someone gazing. There’s something about gazing that is different. It is softer, more receptive, more filled with love and longing. Webster defines it in this way – “to look with eagerness or curiosity; as in admiration, astonishment, or in study.” Now put that into Richard Foster’s statement – “The contemplative life is the steady gaze of the soul – the soul looking with eagerness, curiosity, astonishment, and study – upon the God who loves us.” For most of us, it takes gazing for that to truly sink in – how much He truly loves us. How crazy He is about you! How lovingly he smiles at you with crinkled eyes, His heart swelling with overflowing adoration. It IS astonishing, isn’t it? And then we look away – and we forget. And the other voices sound louder and truer.
So, regardless of the practice – silence, solitude, Lectio Divina, centering prayer, examen, you name it – it’s all about learning to cause the soul to gaze upon the One who loves us. And to learn to gaze without distraction. But when distractions do come, and people tell you what makes you unworthy – our immediate response will be to return to gazing upon Him who love us.
Returning to gaze,
Kim