Love Deeply

For some of us, Valentine's Day is a special day to spend with people we care about, for others of us it is a day of pain and loneliness. I'm grateful, once again, for the words of Henri Nouwen. He acknowledges that human love is often accompanied by human suffering. But this doesn't have to be the end of our story. This passage is dedicated to anyone out there who's experienced heartache (all of us I hope):

Henri Nouwen "Love Deeply"

"Do not hesitate to love and to love deeply.

You might be afraid of the pain that deep love can cause. When those you love deeply reject you, leave you, or die, your heart will be broken. But that should not hold you back from loving deeply. The pain that comes from deep love makes your love ever more fruitful. It is like a plow that breaks the ground to allow the seed to take root and grow into a strong plant. Every time you experience the pain of rejection, absence, or death, you are faced with a choice. You can become bitter and decide not to love again, or you can stand straight in your pain and let the soil on which you stand become richer and more able to give life to new seeds.

The more you have loved and have allowed yourself to suffer because of your love, the more you will be able to let your heart grow wider and deeper. When your love is truly giving and receiving, those whom you love will not leave your heart even when they depart from you. They will become part of your self and thus gradually build a community within you.

Those you have deeply loved become part of you. The longer you live, there will always be more people to be loved by you and to become part of your inner community. The wider your inner community becomes, the more easily you will recognize your own brothers and sisters in the strangers around you. Those who are alive within you will recognize those who are alive around you. The wider the community of your heart, the wider the community around you. Thus the pain of rejection, absence, and death can become fruitful. Yes, as you love deeply the ground of your heart will be broken more and more, but you will rejoice in the abundance of the fruit it will bear."

Finding my Self

I'm reading Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard right now and feeling inspired to write again, especially on the issues of self-centeredness vs. selflessness. This post follows up on one I wrote a while ago on Compassion by Henri Nouwen. These thoughts are still in formulation, so please forgive any lack of clarity or focus :)

Here's a good quote by Willard which first got me thinking:

"Egotism is pathological self-obsession, a reaction to anxiety about whether one really does count. It is a form of acute self-consciousness and can be prevented and healed only by the experience of being adequately loved. It is, indeed, a desperate response to frustration of the need we all have to count for something, to be held irreplaceable, without price." (15) [emphasis mine]

This thought seems so counterintuitive to me. Usually if someone is so exceedingly self-centered my reactionary desire is to show them that they really aren't all that and a bag of potato chips. Even when dealing with my own selfishness - whether I'm attempting to combat or prevent it - my typical response is that I need to accept that it's not "all about me." But instead, Willard says that I need to realize, and what all those crazy egomaniacs out there need to realize, is how loved, how significant, how important, how valued we all are - that we really are something special. The truth is so refreshing, that we are loved sufficiently, that such fulfillment is not beyond our grasp.

And Willard says that this desire to have meaning, to be significant, in itself is not self-centered. In fact, it is actually outward:

"Unlike egotism, the drive to significance is a simple extension of the creative impulse of God that gave us being. It is not filtered through self-consciousness any more than is our lunge to catch a package falling from someone's hand. It is outwardly directed to the good to be done. We were built to count, as water is made to run downhill. We are placed in a specific context to count in ways no one else does. That is our destiny." (15)

In Compassion, Henri Nouwen seemed to say that to actually have compassion on other people, to really understand the suffering of those who hurt, we need to empty ourselves of the desire for social acceptance. At first I was having a hard time reconciling the arguments of these two authors, but after some thought I can see that they aren't necessarily mutually exclusive. To really have compassion, to mourn with those who mourn, we must let go of this struggle to prove ourselves to others. And perhaps Willard is uncovering that the key to this "letting go" is in the realization that we are already loved, accepted, valued, before we could even prove ourselves.

However, Willard extends this further to say that this desire for significance, to do something good for the world, is how God created us to be.

"Our hunger for significance is a signal of who we are and why we are here, and it also is the basis of humanity's enduring response to Jesus. For he always takes individual human beings as seriously as their shredded dignity demands and he has the resources to carry through with his high estimate of them." (15)

It's so good to know that God has greater purposes for us - he sees us as having greater significance than we could even imagine for ourselves. Think about it: since we only can see our lives as they gradually unfold, we often miss the bigger picture, how we are impacting people and the world. But God sees the whole act. He sees how our work in the past is effecting others now, and how what we do now will continue to bring about meaningful change in the future.

Amidst the craziness and uncertainties of life, it's nice to know that we are highly regarded by an all-loving, all-knowing higher power.

Listening

I want to become a better listener. Today I was reminded that listening well is an incredibly powerful and meaningful discipline. This afternoon, as I began to make my never-ending reading list for the weekend, my mom called. Not too long before this I had given her an update on my week. But she called back a few minutes later, asking me to tell her more about my US History course. She could tell that I was a bit worried.

Okay, worried is an understatement. I typically consider myself a strong woman. I usually feel grounded in who I am, and who God created me to me. But this class messes me up. I sit there in our discussions and wonder who the heck let me into grad school (and what the freak is a "meta-narrative"??) I can physically feel the fear creeping in on me. This ridiculous urge to prove myself to my classmates and professors paralyzes me.

Yeah. Grad school is crazy. But God is good in helping me deal with all these issues and see where my real value lies. And that's a whole 'nother blog post and not the point of this story.

I'm talking about listening. And that's what my mom did. She asked for me to explain more why I felt this way. I did. She said she'd be praying for me. It was as simple as that.

But if it's so easy, why do we have such a hard time doing it? Henri Nouwen in Compassion lays the smack down on my soul, once again:

"Paying attention to our fellow human beings is far from easy. We tend to be so insecure about our self-worth and so much in need of affirmation that it is very hard not to ask for attention ourselves. Before we are fully aware of it, we are speaking about ourselves, referring to our own experiences, telling our stories, or turning the subject of conversation toward our own territory." (81)

Dude, if you don't act this way around people, let's talk. I want you to disciple me! Because this process of "self-emptying" is so counterintuitive, so radically opposed to my current behavior. It must be from Jesus.

And the benefits of listening, of this "moving away from the center of attention and inviting others into that space" are immense. As Nouwen writes,

"From experience we know how healing such an invitation can be. When someone listens to us with real concentration and expresses sincere care for our struggles and our pains, we feel that something very deep is happening to us. Slowly, fears melt away, tensions dissolve, anxieties retreat, and we discover that we carry within us something we can trust and offer as a gift to others. The simple experience of being valuable and important to someone else has tremendous recreative power." (81)

This self-emptying is not about shaming or mistreating ourselves - rather its about recognizing and helping others to recognize the innate value within THEM.

Wow. It's really not all about me.

Compassion

This morning I woke up early and drove to the beach, just north of Will Rogers. The fog was still resting on the surface of the blue-gray water, as I watched a sea lion bob across the shore. I jumped into the chilly water and let the cold soak into my skin.

I'm re-reading the book Compassion by Henri Nouwen and, once again, blown away by the intense and challenging call of Jesus as explained by Nouwen.

It seems that in today's culture we are constantly trying to prove to one another and to ourselves that we are valuable - that we are worthy, interesting, important, intelligent, funny, precious, beautiful, lovable. I find myself doing this all the time: in my interactions with my professors, when I meet new people, when I justify my actions and beliefs, when I update my facebook profile. I am fighting to prove that I am an interesting person, that I am unique, that you should want to get to know me.

Henri Nouwen, who left his professorship at Yale Divinity to live among the mentally disabled, reminds us:

"As long as our primary concern in life is to be interesting and thus worthy of special attention, compassion cannot manifest itself" (67).

This yearning for social acceptance (or recognition) gives us the sense that we have control over our lives, that everything improper and uncomfortable "can be kept outside the walls of our self-created fortress" (63). But from within this controlled atmosphere, how can we have compassion on those who are suffering? How can we realize solidarity with someone's pains when we are so focused on maintaining our own comfort?

The Gospels call us to a life of voluntary displacement - living intentionally in places of discomfort. Not because God wants us to suffer. Not because we want to be all non-comformist and "stick it to the man." But because Jesus lived in compassion with (translated literally from the Latin "suffering with") those in pain. It is only when we step outside ourselves, beyond our comfort zones, can we truly experience and express God's compassion.

Nouwen writes that "in voluntary displacement, we cast off the illusion of 'having it together' and thus begin to experience our true condition, which is that we, like everyone else, are pilgrims on the way, sinners in need of grace" (64).

So now I'm wondering, what does this mean for me and my life right now as a UCLA grad student. As Nouwen posits, this doesn't mean that we all need to give up our jobs and families and live among the poor, but rather ask ourselves "How can I come to understand and experience God's caring actions in the concrete situation in which I find myself?" (72)

Where do I feel displaced, alone, abandoned, out-of-touch?

How is God calling me into these places, and how do I experience his love more deeply there?

This passage is very challenging to me...