Somewhere Between: Pathetic Pride and the First Step After Defeat

'The Cedars of Lebanon' by Edward Lear, British. Oil, 1862

"There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more I am dissatisfied with it…”

-Elizabeth Bennett from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

I’m not sure I ever knew what I wanted to be ‘when I grow up.’ As a child, I’m not sure I had any real aspirations.

After all, I had plenty of time to make those kinds of decisions…or so it seemed. Life was good. We had a jungle gym, neighborhood friends and making good grades was easy.

On Saturday mornings, I woke up early, learned to turn the TV volume knob all the way down to zero before switching it on. Then I would slowly, gently, precisely turn it up. I could hear it, but my parents couldn’t in their bedroom down the hall.

Once my parents were awake, my dad would sometimes go to Dunkin’ Donuts and buy us three apiece for our Saturday morning breakfast.

I loved the chocolate-filled ones.

There was a fairly strict routine to our lives but within it was safety; it wasn’t burdensome. We pretty much knew what was expected of us, and it was quite easy to fill those expectations.

With the advent of adolescence, the effortless comfort and safety of routine started to slip away. More things were expected of us…sometimes we would pick up on this intuitively; sometimes we would get clues from the adults in our lives; sometimes the
expectations dropped on our heads like a tornado dropping from a crystal, clear blue sky—startling, terrifying and spinning us in place.

Social pressure started to increase, and truths previously hidden were often naturally but not gently revealed.

Simultaneously, our eyes began to open to the wounds of and the horrors perpetuated by the student sitting next to us in class as well as of those in the larger world.

Moreover, I think the majority of us were incapable of even touching on enough wisdom or self-awareness to know what to do in the varied, tricky, hurtful and downright sad situations often in front of us.

Everything was just happening.

It took us by surprise.

We were reactionary.

And for many of us it was our first small, unseemly taste of defeat…not for all of us but for some. It might’ve taken a little longer for a bit of disillusionment to set in, but the settling process would begin. It started to reshape our perceptions of our imminent steps forward as well as the shape of the map we planned to travel further along—if we even had a plan.

Adulthood grew closer, and the possibility of more disappointment with it.

And we discovered we weren’t steel, concrete or at least some sort of durable plastic because we had believed we would stay intact or maybe even bounce if dropped.

But in reality we discovered we were some sort of glass or ceramic. We looked tough and attractive and as if we fit on the shelf of expectations, but, in truth, when we fell…we
shattered.

Some crumbled into little, dusty bits as if bisque, in a poof with very little noise and cowering in to hide the wreckage. Others broke apart into huge, thick, jagged chunks of rough-hewn pottery and a scream heard round the world. Others scattered into knife-like shards with the quick and strident shriek of crystal flung against the wall.

Then we lay there and tried to put our own pieces back in place…feebly holding on to our pathetic pride…as if it was the only thing binding us together…our best friend. Nonetheless, the well of bravery was desert dry.

And there, in our brokenness, we realized pride couldn’t change us; it couldn’t save us. We realized our need.

Our need of Someone bigger--God.

Our need of Jesus.

It was finally time to put the head knowledge to good use. It was time to step on the first rung of the ladder fragrant of cedar and suspiciously shaped like a cross. A step which didn’t solve all our problems or change the past, but promised to fit our jaggedy pieces back in place.

We thought we’d look ugly with this reworking—all our scars would still show after all. Then piece by careful piece He began to draw us to Him…closer and closer, upward and
around bends…putting us back.

He was…He is making us into something worthy to hold Him.

So as we look down at ourselves…and we see where the cracks still reside but are now sealed with His love and sacrifice…we realize we’re beautiful.

He’s made us into something so, so beautiful.

The fractures now healed make the once fragile and fragmented vase look like the highest art; they decorate it with our stories…made with words or pictures or patterns which tell us we’re no longer defeated because we hold Him close.

Our stories which once shared…can possibly help others who’ve only now broken apart…and need help.

They need hope.

So maybe, just maybe we should be brave and begin to admit to ourselves we’re not rock-hard concrete, but something a little more fragile instead. Maybe, just maybe we could then contemplate admitting to a few people our mistakes…or apologize…or the telling of the things we’ve overcome…or the lessons we’ve learned...even if not in great detail because it probably doesn’t call for it.

And that we love ourselves and each other even more because we needed Jesus to put us back together.

Hosea 14:5-7 (NASB)

⁵I will be
like the dew to Israel;
He will blossom like the lily,
And he will take root
like the cedars of Lebanon.
⁶His shoots will sprout,
And his beauty will
be like the olive tree
And his fragrance like the cedars of Lebanon.
⁷Those who live in his shadow
Will again raise grain,
And they will blossom like the vine.
His renown will be like the wine of Lebanon.

Author’s Note: When referencing the cedar, I wasn’t implying the cross of Christ was made of cedar wood. I don’t believe the Bible indicates the type of wood used for the cross. However, the cedars of Lebanon (mentioned in the passage above) are cited often in scripture and used both metaphorically and literally.

Comments

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Thanks for reading and commenting, Marie! I was feeling a little insecure about this post (I often wish I had another set of eyes to look over my stuff.), but I've been working or thinking on this for a long time and decided to publish it. What I'm trying to say is thanks for the encouragement! :)

Posted by: Laura A. | Sep 15, 2012 at 05:59 PM