Oh, I’m a people pleaser from way back. I was a quiet kid with two high-performing older brothers, so a good way to get the focus back on me was to become indispensable to my mother. The closer I could come to being perfect, the more secure I felt. But when I made a mistake, I felt vulnerable, like I’d lost my grip and was falling into some lonely place. My stomach was always upset. I spent long nights unable to relax into sleep. And somewhere I picked up the idea that if I turned the light switch on and off a certain number of times, I would be protected from calamities, like not winning the spelling bee.
This tendency followed me into relationships where I tended to project the best version of myself. My little antennae were always feeling around for any unmet need in my partner. I smoothed the feathers before any chance of a ruffle. I rolled out all the soft carpet for him to walk on to keep his feet from encountering a stone. Over time it became very difficult for me to even make simple decisions because my focus was so squarely on him, on other people, and everyone’s unmet needs.
It took me a very long time to find my own voice – basically half my life. But when I found it, I was amazed. It was so powerful, and I wielded it like a Louisville Slugger. Finally, I had visibility. Strength. I had personal boundaries. And I had a strong opinion about everything: Every. Little. Thing. That overcompensation was so expensive; it cost me some of my dearest relationships.
So I have had a persistent struggle with what it means to be meek, to turn the other cheek, to give someone both my tunic and my cloak. I had just fought my way out of that bad neighborhood. My fists were still bloody. Is Christ asking me to go right back in there?
Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ. Ephesians 5:21
I know Jesus will only ask of me what contributes to my own thriving. He is not interested in sending me backward. In fact, His sacrifice teaches me that I don’t have to manufacture my value – either through fighting or capitulating. Turning my cheek is not me crumbling; it’s me reclaiming who I am in Him.
What I have been working with lately in terms of covenantal relationships is the idea that opinions are not power. In the inevitable conflicts that arise between me and another person, winning is not strength. My well-being doesn’t actually depend on making sure my ideas overcome those of another: Jesus demonstrated so many times, that to allow another person to be strong doesn’t mean I am therefore weak.
Looking for an application this week? My own personal goal is to drop the baseball bat, and lose at least one argument by Sunday. If I can do that, I will consider it a victory.
by Carie Grant
