No matter what level, what depths of intimacy with the Lord I go, I still find this part of me that keeps reappearing. I guess you could call it a soul-tie, but not in the way that is most typical.
People usually describe soul-ties as an attachment (usually an unhealthy one) to a person, a place or a thing…maybe even an idea. For example, perhaps you were in this relationship that was co-dependant or abusive or just plain ole not-good-for-you, and no matter where you go in life or what you do, somehow your thoughts and emotions come back to that relationship. You find yourself hating a co-worker because they wear the exact same cologne as your ex-husband and you don't care that they are genuinely a nice person but they remind you of the past pain that you haven't let go of and therefore you project the same feelings onto them. Or it could be much like my story where you've gone into depression or bitterness or rage when someone who was supposed to love you and stand by you leaves, because that's what my father did before I was born and that's what he has done the few times he has made brief appearances in my life. You make a new friend, they mean the world to you, and then the circumstances that brought you together like school, an internship, a summer road trip, has to end, and other obligations pull you apart. They never intended to hurt you or break their promises and they never lied when they said they loved you; it's just the judgment that was formed by a wound I received so many years ago tends to take over when people, places and things send me back there. My soul was tied to that part of my past; this is a soul-tie. And in order to experience the fullness of the freedom that Jesus has to offer, unhealthy soul-ties must be broken off.
But the thing about the soul-tie I began talking about, not the daddy stuff, but the one that keeps coming up, has thrown me for a loop, because the person I am so attached to more than anyone else, is Me.
I've always found it interesting whenever my mother would get frustrated with my selfishness as a little girl, and she would say, "you act like the whole world revolves around you!" What I would be feeling and thinking inside and what would come out of my mouth were two different responses. I would shout back and tell her that in fact I did not think the world revolved around me, only because I was raised with instructions on how to behave well and use my manners so I knew that selfish actions were bad. I did not want people to think I was a bad girl. But what I felt and thought on the inside was: "of course the world revolves around me in my perspective; that's the only perspective I have!" The only thoughts I can hear are my own; the only emotions I can experience and feel are my own; the only eyes I can see through, the only ears I can hear through, the only tongue I can taste with, are my own. Someone can tell me that people exist on the other side of the world and show me pictures and share their stories, but until I can witness it in person or perceive them through my own senses, then they are just a picture and just a character in a story. And even now that I am traveling around the world, meeting these people we read about in a World Vision magazine, even now it is still hard to truly understand what they are going through. For every single person on earth, in their own perspective, whether they know it or not, the world seems to actually revolve around them.
I think that's why we make expressions like: "in my world…" or "what world are you living in?" Perhaps that has something to do with why it's hard to walk in someone else's shoes and why it's mind blowing that someone else may receive and show love in a different way than we do. And oddly enough, I think that's why when you hear your own voice in a recording you say, "that doesn't sound like me at all!" and most people look at you thinking, "yes it does." Our outside perspective of ourselves may seem so foreign because we've always perceived it from the inside out. We are always seeing the world through our own lens and that lens is shaped by culture, family, friends, life experiences, opportunities, education, wounds, judgments, and unfortunately our inherited bend towards our selves.
The Self. Ugh…what a complex thing that never goes away. I am so attached to myself and as much as I hate to admit it, I am probably obsessed with my self. I think about myself all the time. These days my thoughts usually revolve around how food, climate, culture and people affect me. Do they make me feel good or do they make me feel comfortable? The Race is so hard and my comfort is being challenged every second of every day. The further in to this Race I get I find myself scrounging for things that will make me comfortable more and more. I never used to drink soda, but now I drink it all the time because it's about the only thing here in Africa that reminds me of North America. You could almost develop an eating disorder on the race if you're not careful, because sometimes the amount of food you take in is all you can control so we eat more than we actually need to and eat junk food that we don't normally eat. Anything to please the flesh. I find myself becoming more territorial of my things like this stupid Swiss army knife and mini speaker that I own. Every time someone uses it I notice and part of me gets angry inside because they don't ask every single time and or they've used it enough already, can't they just get their own? I get annoyed because the fan we bought can't sit on me more than anyone else because, "hey, I'm the one from Canada! You southerners are used to the heat so I should get more wind than you do." If we get served a meal that has pork or beef I find myself thinking I'm entitled to more fruit, vegetables and chips than the others because I'm allergic to pork and beef makes me throw up. And those aren't even the big or deep examples of the Self.
For the past week and a half I have been determined to go home. I've been thinking about all the reasons why, like the people I miss so much and wish I could be with; like the fact that I know what I want to do with my life and how I could be getting started on that instead of "wasting" another 4 months "unemployed"; and like the fact that I have been sick literally every single month of this race and I am so tired of it. Five days ago we went to a hospital to meet with, encourage and pray with some doctors and nurses and I felt so sick the whole way there. I hadn't felt right for a couple days at this point, but every minute we got closer to the hospital the worse I felt. By the time we had arrived I was keeled over in pain and nausea. Lucky for me we were at a hospital, so I went in for blood tests and within an hour I was diagnosed with Typhoid Fever. When the doctor examined me further we then found out I had stomach ulcers on top of that–probably from various medications I'd been taking every month and from the stress that comes with this lifestyle. Today is the first day in about 7 days that I am actually starting to feel healthy again. No more endless puking, no more fever, no more headaches and body aches, no more painful chest cough and the weakness is starting to go away now that my appetite is coming back. But as I said all I've been thinking about is how much I have been sick and how enough is enough. It's time to go home.
I woke up this morning and with my strength returning I could finally sit up and spend some time in the word, read some Donald Miller and pray a little deeper than, "God please make this go away." It all tied together and it all screamed, "Aisha, you have got to let go of your Self and realize how much bigger the world is than just you." No matter how many selfless acts I do, no matter how nice I and many other people think I am and no matter how much I am in love with the Lord, there is still a part of me that is firstly inclined to think of myself. I often quote Scriptures that say: "I am not my own" and "Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done" and believe me I really do mean them. I know that I belong to the Lord and not because He has forced me into anything, but because He so graciously gave His heart and life for me that my only response is to lovingly give myself back to Him. But when things get hard–and there have been many, many times in my life where things have gotten insanely hard–all I want to do is think of the Self within me screaming, "retreat! retreat! this is more than we bargained for!" And it's the "tragedies" or the things that are a "dam shame" that really get us thinking of the Self. It's the times when every one agrees that it's okay to give in because even this is more than most could handle; even this is unfair; even this is just not worth it. If I went home because I've been sick at least one week every single month on this race and I now have Typhoid most people would miss me and feel sad for me but most would also completely understand and totally agree. Most likely 75% of the people who would hear how much I've been sick would agree that it's just not worth it, because they would say, "if that was me then I would have come home too."
See now how we think of the Self? The "if-that-was-me"?
I read the second part of Paul's testimony this morning. Not where he talks about who he was before Christ in the book of Acts, but where he talks about how hard his life is after Christ in 2 Corinthians. It made me think of a chapter in The Irresistible Revolution, titled "Jesus Ruined My Life" because once Shane Claiborne truly came to know Jesus, he came to realize how much he had to lose his life to gain it. Paul's life got pretty messed up because he chose to serve God. You can read about all he went through in 2 Corinthians 11:23-28 and none of it even compares to being sick 7 times in 7 months. None of it even compares to culture shock, homesickness and financial needs. None of it even compares to the annoyances caused by people on my team and squad. And Paul's motto is: "To live is Christ and to die is gain." Even further, the dude says in Philippians 3:8-10–"…everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord…I want to know Christ and experience the mighty power that raised him from the dead. I want to suffer with him, sharing in his death…"
Part of me reads this and thinks "this dude is legit and and oh how I wish I could be like him!" and the other part of me thinks "he is a masochist, getting some sick twisted pleasure from pain that I am so not in to." But then words like value, Lord, mighty, power and sharing, stand out and make me think that if the definition of masochist could be considered: "facing danger, sickness, pain and suffering; abandoning all your comforts; getting rid of the Self, but in turn finding pleasure, love and life in Jesus" …then maybe that type of masochist is exactly who I want to be.
Donald Miller says in the second chapter of Blue Like Jazz:
The overwhelming majority of the time, I spend thinking of myself, pleasing myself, reassuring myself, and when I am done there is nothing to spare for the needy. Six billion people live in this world, and I can only muster thoughts for one. Me…For a moment, sitting there above the city, I imagined life outside of narcissism. I wondered how beautiful it might be to think of others as more important than myself. I wondered at how peaceful it might be not to be pestered by that childish voice that wants for pleasure and attention. I wondered what it would be like not to live in a house of mirrors, everywhere I go being reminded of myself…I realize this sounds very Christian, very fundamentalist and browbeating, but I want to tell you this part of what the Christians are saying is true. I think Jesus feels strongly about communicating the idea of our brokenness, and I think it is worth reflection. Nothing is going to change in the Congo until you and I figure out what is wrong with the person in the mirror."
This soul-tie to my Self has got to be detached and has got to be done with. I need to say "I am not my own" and "Thy Kingdom Come, Thy will be done" all the time, not just most of the time, and really, truly mean it. And dammit, I hate admitting that! Because I just want to be comfortable and I just want to go home. But I did not marry my Self. I married the Lord. Surrender comes with a deep breath and an acceptance of the unwanted. As much as I don't feel like staying is worth it, I know staying is worth it, because for every week of sickness, there are 3 weeks of kingdom. For every moment of teammate annoyance, there are hours of victory and sisterhood. For every time of weakness there are even greater times of strength. And for every death of Self, there is much Life in Jesus.
