Tag Archives: value

Codependectomy In Progress

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Before we explore my codependent tendencies, let me say this: I am not a codependent, and neither are you. We are human beings, made in the image of God, with tendencies to forget who we are.

Often I have believed the lie that I must perform for others because they would never choose to be with me if I wasn’t doing something for them. This belief sits on top of another lie: I am not worthy of friendship, or to be loved and cared for by another human being.

I have spent most of my life feeling like a liability to the people around me, or combating that feeling by behaving well to ensure I’m not a liability. This is a tense and fearful space in which to exist. If I assume I’m a liability when I’m not performing well, I also believe other people are a liability if they are not performing well. Which of course leads to judgement and resentment and all sorts of fun. This is a mess indeed. So Jesus has been helping me disentangle from the space in which I believe I must be thought well of by others to be ok.

My safest relationship—with my husband—is the first to undergo a codependectomy. I write in my journal:

I can’t keep Michael happy, and Michael can’t keep me happy. I am ok without him, and he is ok without me. My identity is not in Michael, and Michael’s identity is not in me. Michael will be annoyed with me, frustrated by me, and hurt by me. Michael will be distracted, impatient, codependent and clingy; and he will keep score, be disappointed in me, and sometimes resent the discomfort I cause in his life.

I feel like the world is not right when Michael is not happy with me. I feel like a liability. I fear that loss of intimacy will leave me free-falling until he catches me again. But when I believe these things, I have given Michael power over me in a way that is damaging to both of us. As long as I think I am responsible for Michael’s happiness, I will feel anxious, worthless, and not-enough whenever he or I struggle.

The truth is, I couldn’t be better. God never expects me to keep another person happy. My identity is wholeness, and “liability” has no place in that. I am not free falling. I am standing on solid ground. My reality does not change when Michael moves away from me. Jesus is always in His room in my heart, and I am always in my room in His heart. This centers me. I always belong. I am always desired.

Michael being pleased with me is not welcome relief from being a failure, nor is it my due as his wife. It’s more like him agreeing with God about me: like they’re hanging out together and they’re both saying how much they like me. I get to just stand there and feel the wonder of it… whether it’s both of them, or just Jesus.

Not being responsible for Michael’s happiness doesn’t look like a cold shoulder; it looks like compassion—for myself, and for him. One morning as I grapple with this, I hear the Spirit say, “you don’t need to do anything to be ‘good enough’ today.” And I think, “what do I do with my family while I’m not doing anything?” They need me, continually, relentlessly, deeply. I am set free in Jesus, but often I don’t know what “free” looks like. (Culture tells me it’s getting what I want and doing what I feel like, and I know that’s not true. It has to be better than that.) What does freedom in the midst of needy people look like? I think Jesus knows, considering His three or so years of being followed around by hundreds of needy, clingy, freaked out and insecure people.

Jesus said to the woman at the well, “Those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fountain within them, giving them eternal life.” (John 4:14) And maybe He says this to me: “I know Michael and the girls feel like leeches sometimes, but the life I’m giving you they can’t suck out of you.”

I have been trying to do a lot of things for myself that Jesus is already doing for me. He said, “I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper to be with you forever,” and the Amplified Bible adds these words parenthetically after Helper: Comforter, Advocate, Intercessor, Counselor, Strengthener, Standby. (see John 14:16, AMP)

So, throughout my long day of being needed…
God is my Comforter, who eases my grief or distress.
God is my Advocate, who publicly supports and recommends me.
God is my Intercessor, who intervenes on my behalf.
God is my Counselor, who gives guidance for my problems.
God is my Strengthener, who provides additional strength.
God is my Stand-by, who is ready to be deployed as back-up in an emergency.

“All that I have is yours… come in and celebrate,” Jesus says to His children (see Luke 15:28-32). I am rich. I am full. I am righteous. I am daughter. I don’t need to prove who I am, protect myself, or provide for myself. Jesus was tempted by Satan (and others) to prove Himself, protect Himself, and provide for Himself,1 but He knew who He was, and He has gifted me that unshakeable identity.

As Gregory Boyle said, “What saves us in the present moment is being anchored in love and tethered to a sustaining God who keeps reminding us of our unshakeable goodness and the goodness of others.”2

I have to wonder, if I’m not worried about proving, protecting, or providing, then what am I going to do today? I have lived in not-enough so long that I’m hardly aware other spaces exist, and I don’t know what they look like. Maybe this?—Love. Create. Belong. Enjoy. Celebrate.

I don’t need to be doing something to be worth something.
I don’t need to be “put together” to be worth something.
I don’t need to understand myself to be worth something.
I don’t need to be in control to be worth something.
I am full by default. I am worth something when I am wrong, tired, uninteresting, lost (literally or metaphorically), or without reason.

Some days, living in this truth looks like a journal entry:

I don’t need my kids to have affection for me or obey me. I don’t need my writing group to affirm what I write. I don’t need my parents to approve of my choices or opinions. I don’t need my friends to respond to everything I say, or to think well of me. I don’t need my husband to agree with me, or always be kind to me, or do what I think he should do. I don’t need my extended family to think well of me. It’s ok for people to disagree with me, and to misunderstand me. I could lose in any or all of these relationships and I would still be who I am: God’s favorite, the one He is delighted in and to whom He has given His whole self.

Every Friday night our family has a special meal. The food is in actual serving dishes, the table is decorated, and we always have a beverage and dessert. This tradition came out of a conversation with my husband about how to incorporate the Beloved Creed into our family routine. It was his idea to speak it aloud together as part of a special meal. And so we speak:

I’m not what I do.
I’m not what I have.
I’m not what people [think or] say about me.
I am the beloved of God.
It’s who I am.
No one can take it from me.
I don’t have to worry.
I don’t have to hurry.
I can trust my friend Jesus and share His love with the world.

If—like me—you struggle with insecurity, let’s dare to believe we are a good idea, we belong, and we are beloved.

Endnotes:
1Paul Coneff with Lindsey Gendke, The Hidden Half of the Gospel: How His Suffering Can Heal Yours (Maitland: Two Harbors Press, 2014, 2016), 15.
2Gregory Boyle, The Whole Language: The Power of Extravagant Tenderness (New York: Avid Reader Press, 2021), 34.

God, Who Is Asking Nothing

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I have always thought I wasn’t supposed to like myself, and certainly not love myself. I thought loving myself would take me far from God. But one night when I was ruminating at 4am, I realized that God likes me and loves me; so liking and loving myself puts me in alignment and agreement with God, and therefore closer to Him. I can like myself and love myself. I can be kind to myself. I can marvel at what I am capable of as a human being, made in the image of God Himself.

As I mentioned in my March 2nd post, reading The Whole Language, by Gregory Boyle, has been transformational for me. One day I came across these words, spoken by the homie Raul: “I take myself to court every day…and every day…I find myself guilty.”1 And I cried. I sobbed. I could have written those words. I taste the pain they carry.

But what about this exchange? Victor, another homie who is discovering he is loved, says to Boyle (whom the homies call “G”), “Damn, G.—I’m in love and it feels proper.”

“Who ya in love with?” Boyle asks.

“Myself,” says Victor.2

And I wondered, could that be my experience? Dare I move from being on trial to being loved? I wrote in my journal:

I am not on trial. There is no standard I am being held to.

Previously, at times, I have felt some relief by adjusting the standard, but always it has been there, mocking me—jeering, prodding, torturing. I think it’s very much like being a prisoner of war, with perfectionism as my captor. No matter how I behaved, my captor tripped me and then laughed at me sprawled on the muddy ground; yet all the while telling me that if I just behaved better, things would be better for me. There was very little living as a POW.

But outside of camp I am not always afraid. I am treated with tenderness regardless of what I am experiencing. I am not watched, but I am seen. I am not becoming better, but I am healing.

God has been patient with me over the years as I have held Him at arms length with reasons He really didn’t love me—either because of me, or because of Him. I think, surely acceptance is tied to performance (haven’t my fellow human beings made this clear?). Surely God is not a masochist, eager to hang out with someone who is short-tempered and vindictive. I have been a wounded child, over-performing, because being loved is too good to be true.

But if I don’t love myself, God’s love stays “out there.” Every criticism I have of myself is a criticism I have of someone else. So when I learn to love myself, be playful with myself about my shortcomings, wink at my missteps, embrace myself when I have caused pain… can you imagine? Then I will do unto others as I have done unto myself.

My human experience tells me this: people don’t care about me unless I am performing well or operating on their agenda. And poor God, I slathered this mindset all over Him. I figured that since I was not performing well and was way off what I thought God’s agenda was, that He just didn’t care, didn’t have time or interest for me. I would have never put those words to it, but that’s the spiritual space I was living out of, whether I knew it or not. This had nothing to do with God, but with lies I believed about Him. The truth is, my performance was never on His radar, except for that afternoon on the cross when He took it from me and that resurrection morning when He replaced it with His life of perfection. It is His delight to remind me who I really am, to provide everything for me, and then to sit back and watch me enjoy being alive.

I’m reading a Bible study about parenting with the Holy Spirit, and I came across this: “The One who remains with us doesn’t need anything from us.”3 Wait, what? Wow. As a mother of young children, I find this exhilarating. I am needed, all day, every day, by everyone in my home. But God who dwells in me doesn’t need anything from me.

Jesus said it is better to give than to receive, yet we are confused that He is giving to us and not asking anything from us. Boyle writes, “God is only interested in lavishing us with extravagant tenderness, and yet we are convinced that God is thinking we all could just do a better job.”4

“Enter by the narrow gate,” Jesus said, “because wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to death and there are many who go in by it. Because narrow is the gate and confined is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it.” (Matthew 7:13, 14). This is true not because God is not abundantly present, nor because it is hard to be good, but because it is hard to be loved. Love seems too good to be true, so we don’t believe it. We have settled for trying to be better, instead of being loved. But what riches, what broken-open extravagance, await those who receive frightening, crazy, juicy love, and who throw their arms wide open and love themselves.

What is God’s agenda? To love me. I have made this extremely difficult for Him. It is entirely my fault that there have been some necessary precursors to living loved: first, to take my eyes off my performance; and second, to rivet my gaze to His abundance. God who gives: His mind (1 Corinthians 2:16), His Spirit (John 14:16, 17), His resurrection power (Ephesians 1:19, 20), His faith (Revelation 14:12), His grace (Ephesians 4:7, NKJV), His love (1 John 4:19, NIV). He has given us every spiritual blessing, redemption, forgiveness, abundant grace, knowledge of the mystery of His will, an inheritance (see Ephesians 1:3-12), and so much more.

A God whose only agenda is to love me, and who has already redeemed me, does seem too good to be true. And here is where I sit with my back to God. I have come to Him, but I have not dared to look at Him. I have responded to His call, but I have come into His presence with my head down, holding in my hand a wrinkled picture of Him that Satan drew in the garden millennia ago. I know all too well that as long as I picture God holding a ruler instead of a rose—with an expression of disappointment instead of desire—I remain unchanged. But when I dare to let my guard down and look God in the face, for the first time I know who He is, and simultaneously who I am: His daughter. The devil’s drawing in my hand turns to dust as I look at God’s face and see compassion, welcome, belonging, tenderness, and joy.

Just as someone anxious for news looks into the face of their loved one, and without any words knows it is good news, and cries tears of relief; so I have looked into the face of God, known who I am, and cried tears of relief. The news is good. Death has ended in resurrection. Lies have been exposed and turned to dust. Slavery is over. Jesus is alive, and He has brought me with Him.

As I sit with God I can’t help but wonder, why now? Why didn’t I know I was loved when I read the Bible through at eight years old, or when I got baptized—also at eight years old, or when I prayer-journaled daily for 15 years, or when I was in ministry, or when I got married, or when I had babies? How could I spend all that time as a “Christian,” knowing that God doesn’t love as people love, but never truly knowing. This grieves me. I have interacted with myself and others from an identity of not-enough, which looks a lot like fear and anger. So I ask God, why this confused and bumbling journey? And He says, this journey has not been what you thought it would be, but you are what I wanted all along. I have always enjoyed being with you. That you are alive in the world delights me. I don’t need anything else.

It is in receiving the truth that I am loved, and that God doesn’t need anything from me, that I am finally able to give Him anything at all; that I sit down in His lap and know I belong.

Endnotes:
1Gregory Boyle, The Whole Language: The Power of Extravagant Tenderness (New York: Avid Reader Press, 2021), 32.
2Ibid., 28.
3 Jeannie Cunnion, Never Alone: Parenting in the Power of the Holy Spirit (Nashville: Lifeway Press, 2021), 28.
4Boyle, 9.

Empty and Ugly, Seen and Loved

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Not long ago, on a Sunday, I was feeling not-good-enough and lifeless. The joy of holiday family time had morphed into a funk. I started the day feeling trapped in my role as wife and mom. The happiness of the household rested heavily on my shoulders, while my own happiness was quite uncertain. The day was slated to be a typical Sunday, trying to keep the kids on task for chores, getting ready for the week ahead, hopefully relaxing some.

My father-in-law had given us an Instant Pot for Christmas and we set out to hard boil eggs in it. Success! While the eggs cooled off in their ice bath I worked on a new puzzle (also a Christmas gift). Then my daughter Kyli and I returned to the kitchen to make deviled eggs. As we removed hard shells from rubbery eggs, my husband, Michael, shared a tip he had seen on YouTube about an easy way to peel hard-boiled eggs: roll them to crack the shell around the middle of the egg, and then slide the two ends of shell off the egg, easy-peasy. Well, I tried it and my egg started to break in half. I made an off-hand comment about how things never turn out the way it’s shown on YouTube, which triggered Michael (who was also already in a funk). He disappeared upstairs. This added to my distorted sense that I must be available to my family, take care of them, and keep them happy.

As I nagged our two young daughters about piano practice and showers and taking care of their pets, my stress level dialed up. My emotional capacity was insufficient for the girls’ interminable distractions and dragging feet. As the day wore on I felt more frustrated and inadequate. After lunch I retreated to my bedroom to be still and alone. I checked my phone and found a text discussion among our Monday moms’ prayer group, about day-after-Christmas goals. Someone sent this placard: “My two goals for today were to get out of bed and drink coffee. So far, I am a success.” There was a general agreement about the placard, a comment on the cold weather, and I plunged in with this: “I’m in a mood today. I feel worthless and angry. My kids are taking the entire day to take a bath and play their piano songs, and Michael is not impressed with my mood.” Within five minutes I had two offers to take my girls for the afternoon, multiple people praying for me, an invitation to a moms’ movie night, an offer to babysit later in the week, and many encouraging words. All I could do was cry. I went from feeling invisible to knowing I was seen and loved. It was cleansing. I didn’t know how life-sucked I felt until these women’s words gave me life.

I re-read their words. Chantel said, “Ah, I’m sorry Tobi. Can I bring you a coffee (or anything else to cheer you up)?” Tiffaney said, “So sorry Tobi! And just like that it starts dumping snow… like God saying, ‘I got this. I’m still here when you’re in a bad mood.’” Rufus said, “So glad that in all we face, our Father is in it with us and we are not alone, never abandoned! How amazing we are not valued by how we feel, but Who He is. Praying you through, sister.” After a good cry, I made plans to get coffee with Chantel, and Michael agreed to hang out with the kids at home.

Chantel picked me up and treated me to coffee at Roasters, then took me home to “say hello” to the family—her husband and seven kids, and the in-laws who were visiting. I stayed for two hours. Coryell (age 10) showed me most of the features of the camera she got for Christmas, and gave me a friendship necklace for my daughter Kayt. Bailey (age 6) showed me the mini piano keyboard she got for Christmas, and played tic tac toe with me. The youngest girls—Jessie and Marcy—requested hand sanitizer from my purse. Charlie (age 6) tried to solve a metal puzzle I had in my purse. Linda (the mother-in-law) served me homemade fruit cake with whipped topping. Jessie had giggle fits on Chantel’s back. Chantel shared a discussion she recently had about the shepherds telling everyone about Jesus, and how she thought of me as someone who does that kind of sharing. The kids laughed when I told them the reason I was at their house alone: “I’m in time-out from my family for being too grumpy.”

When it was time to go home, I realized that emptiness and inadequacy had given way to feeling rejuvenated and peaceful. And unknown to me at the time, Chantel’s husband Nic invited Michael to go to a movie at the theater that evening.

This is community, and it is sacred. Jesus ministered to me through all these friends.

As I reflect on that miraculous afternoon, I realize I experienced community in a new way. I have been blessed throughout my life to be part of a loving church community, and I have always been celebrated and supported. I was showered with gifts at my 8th grade homeschool graduation in the community where I grew up. Where I now live, there are always baby showers and meal deliveries, wedding showers, and birthday parties. All of these are, to me, “legitimate” reasons for being cared for or celebrated; having a crappy day is NOT legitimate.

I have a wonderful life, so when I have a depressed day (which happens often), I pile on lots of shame for not being happy in my great life. I do not feel worthy of support, because the reason I desire support seems unacceptable. Yes, of course new moms, or kids graduating from school, ought to be supported and celebrated. But me with my lousy attitude? Not worthy.

My friends called all this stinkin’ thinkin’ into question by showering me with compassion in the midst of my anger and grumpiness. Now I know what it’s like to feel supported—to live in community—as a fragile human being: one who is allowed to be burdened by life and be held up by someone else.

Living Loved

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I have the Hawk Nelson song, “Live Like You’re Loved” stuck in my head this morning, so I’m asking God: what does it look like to “live like you’re loved”?

It is deeply settling to know I am loved. It voids all the questions of whether I’m doing enough and whether I have value. It means knowing that Someone’s thoughts and affections are always with me.

When you know you’re loved, you live generously, because you know you will never run out of the one thing that’s most important. There is no scarcity; you don’t have to hold on so tightly.

Knowing I am loved means I can stop measuring and judging everything in my life.

If I look at Jesus, living loved means irritating people with grace and generosity and abundance. And it means being able to go ahead with what seems like an impossible sacrifice.

It means strength that is not my own, and life that is so bursting full that death on this earth is only a temporary setback.

Photo by Gustavo Fring from Pexels

Growing Pains

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Have you noticed it is hard to be loved by God? It is the end of a long day, and I sit in the quiet of my daughters’ bedroom, tired in every way. Finally they are sleeping, and finally I take inventory of my cowering spirit. I let the discomfort and fear rise to my conscious mind and the falling tears are evidence of despair over my mediocrity. Sometimes I think it would feel better to fail epically than to struggle along day after day, doing what I need to do, but feeling purposeless; being possessed by a nagging ache that I could do so much better. I could be a better mom and wife and friend; a better housekeeper and cook and caretaker of pets.

As I sit in the quiet and feel the discomfort of my own existence, the whisper to my soul is one of love. “How do I go through the coming week?” I wonder. And God says, “Let me love you.” Even as my tears become tears of relief, I realize: being loved is hard too. I don’t know how to be loved. For 34 years I have believed that I must perform. This is so deeply a part of me that an identity based on being loved feels like insanity. I must be crazy. God must be crazy. What is going on? Is He sure He really loves me? Is He sure loving me and not fixing me this week is the best idea? At any rate, shouldn’t I earn His love by doing something good? Or shouldn’t the purpose of His love be to make me good?

And so I find before me a most difficult task this week. Not to become a better parent, or a better wife. Not to hold my tongue, or have a hot dinner ready at 5:30 every day. Not to make fancy after-school snacks and remember everything I need when I go to the store. Not to have the perfect ratio of social time and time at home. Not to always listen attentively to my children. Not to affirm my husband every day. Not to anticipate and care for the needs of my family, friends and community. My task is to be loved.

This is hard because I don’t really believe I am lovable – especially when I am performing so far below my own expectations. But if I am honest, I know in my spirit that love is exactly the right place to begin. Love is transforming. Love is a safe place to be when my own self is a minefield of lies and scoffing laughter at my attempts to be “good.” Love when I don’t deserve it is precisely what nudges me toward healing: what gives me permission to be broken, so that instead of fighting against myself I can embrace brokenness and know the first moments of healing.

God’s love is too good to be true. And haven’t I always been told, “If it’s too good to be true, it’s probably not true”? Well, this time it is too good to be true, but it is nevertheless true. God loves me. He really is crazy. And this really is good news. I can lay down this ungainly burden of must-get-everything-right, and breath some fresh grace-air deep into my bones, my spirit, my identity.

How does this all work? I’m not exactly sure. But maybe one tiny step is becoming aware of my allegiance. Dare I give more allegiance to the whispers of Love than to the well-worn paths of performing and earning? Could I choose to believe that I am loved, having done nothing to deserve it? Could I take one tiny step away from legalism and toward grace: away from starvation and toward abundance?

I learned from Dr. Caroline Leaf’s brain detox program how our thoughts occupy physical space in our minds. When we develop new thoughts they begin as little “bumps” in our brain, which then grow into “mushrooms” and then big healthy “trees,” simply because we think them over and over. Conversely, we can physically remove thoughts from our brain, reversing this process and deteriorating healthy “trees” down into “mushrooms,” then “bumps,” then nothing. Death.

Life or death. Choose this day whom you will serve (Joshua 24:15). This week, choosing to serve God looks like letting God love me, even though it makes no sense. Letting Him hold me after I belittle my children. Letting Him forgive me 100 times in one afternoon. Letting Him give me gifts I do not deserve. Letting Him withhold consequences I do deserve. Letting Him get a little crazy with me. Letting Him decide whether I am worthy, because He already decided on a cross a long time ago, when He was worthy for me so I don’t have to be worthy.

Lies, #2

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Lie: Your productivity is more important than almost anything else, including your emotions, your desires, how tired or hungry you are, and whether you find value in what you’re producing or not. Ah yes, this lie is so familiar to me, so insistent, so much a part of the fabric of how I have lived my life.

Have you noticed that lies and idols can be one and the same? I have always been confused when people try to talk about “modern” idols – money, possessions, relationships, whatever. Until a few years back when I did a Bible study on the book of Jeremiah that helped me identify my idols: productivity and comfort. Those were the first two idols I identified. When I told a friend, she said “those seem like good things!” Yes indeed. And that is how Satan so skillfully weaves them into my being and snares me with them and even convinces me to worship them.

Here is how the Holy Spirit answered this lie: “You are the most important thing to Me. I died for you even though you might not choose me, and I love you the same whether you choose me or not. I made you and I love you: your emotions, your desires, your values. How you feel matters to me, and I want to give you rest. You don’t need to do anything for me. (You don’t need to love me. You don’t need to serve me. You don’t need to be a good Christian so you’re not misrepresenting my name. You don’t need to have daily devotions. I love you. And if you love me back that’s like a cherry on top.)”

He took all the “works” right out of it and made it about grace. This is the God I am coming to know. The emotionally safe God, the God who turns things upside down, the God who saves me from myself. He takes these wounds in my spirit and shows them to me, layer by layer, revealing what healing He has for me.

So layered with this lie is another one, again from childhood (this is how I internalized things, not necessarily the message my parents were trying to send): Working hard is extremely important, and learning to work hard is the purpose of childhood. Those who don’t work hard reap the consequences. It is never ok not to be a hard worker. What needs to be accomplished (which is anything productive that is available in any area that is not currently in a state of perfection) is more important than you. Whether you have the time, energy, motivation, or interest to do it doesn’t matter. It must be done. If something is important to me more than to you, I will make sure to make it a burden to you by mentioning it, its urgency, and the dire consequences of not doing it, until you comply. The idea that it may just be less important to you is totally invalid, or if it is less important to you, it’s because you’re thoughtless and/or lazy.

As I look at this I have to chuckle. My poor husband has been through a lot of torment because of this lie. I have treated him according to the lie, and as he is not a “do-er” in the way that I am, it has been torture for him. I am grateful that he has stuck with me, patiently setting boundaries and loving me in spite of my intense desire to Get! Things! Done! Already!!!

Amazingly, the Spirit answered this lie with the same initial statement: “You are the most important thing to Me. The purpose of childhood is learning and growing, which children do automatically. Parents participate in that by modeling, and providing opportunities. Never measure your success as a parent by how hard your children work. Leave the measuring up to me. Sometimes it is ok not to be working. Elijah spent years by the brook Cherith. Rest is a blessed thing (literally). It is a gift, and an opportunity to remember other gifts. To be always busy is to be lonely, tired, frustrated (the work is never done, and the not-always-busy people aren’t helping). Connection requires rest, unplanned time. It is good to slow, to stop. It does not mean you are lazy, ignorant of the work available, or thoughtless/foolish. No one but you is measuring your productivity. You can stop now. And you don’t need to measure your rest either. Just because there are things to do doesn’t mean you ought to be doing them.”

Every time I read this, my spirit takes a deep breath. I am important to God. Apart from my productivity, my behavior. I am loved no matter how I perform. God wants me more than anything I can do for him. Oh Jesus, let Your voice speak with authority above all the others.