Less Than

      Yesterday, we went to the funeral home to visit with a family from our old church whose father/grandfather recently passed. While we were there we ran into several people from our old church. There were lots of hugs and "we miss you guys" and "how are the kids". We ended up spending almost two hours there catching up with old friends. It was a nice time, even if I was exhausated by the end and my voice was shot. 😁

     As we were driving home, Aaron asked me how I was doing after seeing so many people from the place that has been a great source of hurt for me. I could honestly answer that I was doing okay. It was nice to see everyone and pretty much all the people who caused me hurt have since left the church. I told him that there was really only one point when bad memories were stirred up and it's one the hurts that I haven't wanted to write about yet because I'm still processing it. So I'm going to tackle another "easy" one.

    Aaron and I enjoy the occasional adult beverage. We enjoy touring bourbon distilleries and having a nice drink out during date night. And of course I have been known to post pictures on social media, because that's what people do. We believe that drinking alcohol is a case of personal conviction - drinking alcohol itself is not a sin, but drunkeness is, so we always drink in moderation.

     Back when Aaron first started interning at the church, the topic of alcohol came up in a conversation with our pastor. Our pastor agreed that drinking is not a sin, but he told Aaron that we needed to take down all pictures or references to alcohol from our social media. We could still drink as our conscience permitted, but we just couldn't let anyone know about it.

     So we spent our vacation that year going through YEARS of social media posts to hide any picture of a distillery tour or post of a selfie with a drink on the table. I also had to be mindful anytime I took a picture from that point on to make sure there wasn't any alcohol in the background or if we were somewhere with alcohol, like a bar or distillery, I couldn't actually tell anyone where we were. I remember being so angry and not hiding my frustration from Aaron. I thought it was stupid that while our pastor agreed drinking alcohol is not a sin, we hide to remove it as if it was. But I still did it, even if begrudgingly, because that's what a good pastor's wife does. She submits to her husband and church leadership and does whatever is necessary to help her husband fulfill his calling.

     This was the first time I remember feeling like I had to hide parts of who I am. It was communicated to me, whether intentionally or unintentionally, that there was an image I was expected to put forth and there were parts of me that did not fit that image and thus were not good enough. I had to be one person in public and a different person in private. When no one was around, I could be my full self, but if anyone was around, I was expected to wear a mask and fit the mold.

Photo by Motoki Tonn on Unsplash

     Over the years, this feeling that I wasn't good enough and that I had to hide parts of myself would just continue to grow. When I would walk into church, I had to make sure my "face" was on. I had to be careful of the words I spoke. I could never be truly open or vulnerable with other members because then they might see those "less than" parts of me. The Lisa our church saw was not the real Lisa, because the real Lisa was not good enough.

     This last year as been a time for me to find the real Lisa again. I have worked on being real, and not apologizing for who I am. I have tried to stop hiding parts of myself and accept the parts that for so long I was made to feel were "less than". I still have a ways to go, but I'm making my way back to me. I'm hoping that when I find myself again that I will be able to see that I am exactly who God made me to be. I'm hoping that at the end of this journey I will be able to crash that mold that I've been attempting to squeeze myself into and be fully and uniquely me. 

Can't Measure Up

      The challange before me is to name the hurts done to me and to not try to find my mistakes or somehow justify another person's mistreatment of me. This is going to be hard and will be painful at times, so I'm going to start with an "easy" hurt.

     Five years ago we were packing up our Louisville house to move to Southern Indiana because we felt called to live in the community where we attended church. One day, several folks from church came over to help us load up furniture to move to storage, including our pastor and his wife. After our couches were moved out of the living room, we saw several Lego bricks and other small toys among the normal stuff you find under a large piece of furntiture. So my pastor's wife and I sat on the floor for several minutes picking out the items that need to be saved before sweeping up the trash.

     Nothing was said to me directly, but sometime later Aaron, who was interning at the church, and our pastor were meeting and my pastor raised concerns about my house-keeping abilities. He commented that he could tell that I had never swept under our couch. I feel like other things were said, but the comment about never swepping under my couch is what stuck and I still think about it sometimes.

    I felt attacked on several fronts - my ability to be a homemaker, my cleanliness, my worth as a pastor's wife. I felt like I was being compared to this crazy standard and I was never going to measure up. I was also pissed as all get out. How dare he question my ability based on what it looked like UNDER my couch?

     I won't say this started the feeling that I wasn't a very good pastor's wife, but it definitely added to it. This was just one other way that I wasn't good enough and just one more way for me to compare myself to the other pastors' wives. I worked outside the home and none of them did. They all homeschooled their kids or sent them to private Christian school and at the time my kids went to public school. They always wore dresses or cute outfits and makeup to church and some days I barely could get out the door in a matching outfit and my hair was almost always in a ponytail and I hardly ever wore makeup. My kids watched a lot of TV and listened to non-Christian music (still do) and their kids had limited screentime and only listened to praise music. And the internal list went on and on.

Photo by Crazy Cake on Unsplash

    So much of my time at our old church was spent feeling like I was on constant display. I felt like I was always being judged and that I never measured up. I never felt like I could be my full self because my full self wasn't good enough. I had to hide parts of who I was to put forth the image of what they wanted in a pastor's wife. And because I was hiding parts of myself, I never felt fully seen or known and thus always felt isolated and alone. I wanted to be liked and I wanted people to respect Aaron, so I tried hard to play the part, but it was EXHAUSTING.

     Real talk - I think deep down I felt some relief when everything blew up last year and we left the church (more about that at another time). After years of hiding, I could be me again - hot mess, sometimes foul-mouthed, awkward me. I didn't have to play a part anymore, I could be real again. I was released from the glass box that had been holding me on display for so long.

     As we consider Aaron going back into vocational, paid ministry, I will admit I'm scared. I'm scared that I will have to hide again. I'm scared that I will not deal with my issues and will just end up back in the exhausting cycle of trying to please people by hiding who I am even though all I want is to be seen and known and thus I will feel like I don't measure up and alone, so I'll hide more of myself and play the part more and feel even less seen and less known and on and on and on.

     I don't know what the future holds for us and I don't honestly know what it will take for me to break the cycle, but I'm hoping this process will help. I'm hopeful that if I can be honest and name the hurts and honestly acknowledge my fears, that I can finally be free of that pressure. I'm hopeful.

Permission Granted

      Yesterday we met with our pastor. We met with him because Aaron thinks he wants to go back into paid vocational ministry and we both know that we need to work through and make sure we deal with what happened at our last church. Neither one of us wants to take that hurt and baggage into the next place and then cause hurt or pain there. We know that we need to process and deal with what happened.

     What I THOUGHT was going to happen: We would go in, share what happened, admit to the areas we failed, be given some practical steps to process, think through ways to handle conflict and hard things in the future and eventually be sent out by our church.

     What ACTUALLY happened: I was asked what I want. I admitted to my fears of not being good enough - a good enough Christian, a good enough pastor's wife, a good enough woman, etc. I was given permission to name the hurt done to me WITHOUT looking for ways I had been wrong. I was reminded that following after Jesus is not meant to be full of pressure and I was given permission to stop doing things out of obligation and guilt. I was given permission to figure out what I want and that I do not have to fit some arbituary definition or mold of "pastor's wife".

      At one point, my pastor point-blank asked me why I kept pointing out the mistakes I made that I thought caused me to be hurt. I think I may have physcially pushed back against the sofa as I contemplated that question. After a few moments, I answered that part of it is growing up in the shame culture of the south, I was taught to find my blame in any situation.

     Later, Aaron and I were processing out loud our conversation and I realized that deep down I think I am justifying other people's mistreatment of me. As if in some way, I deserve the hurt or the wrong or the suffering. Because I am not good enough, it is somehow okay for others to mistreat me.

     Something that my pastor said still has me a little shook: "You don't have to repent for suffering." For so much of my life, I have been taught that I am a wretched sinner and the consequences of that sin is suffering. I'm just now beginning to realize that I believe I deserve to suffer because I have failed and because I have sinned.

      Suffering is not a sin. 

      It is not on me to repent of another person's sin. It is okay to acknowledge when and name how someone has hurt me. It is okay to admit that the situation at our last church was at times abusive. And I don't have to repent for any of that.

     My pastor has encouraged me to spend some time and actually name the hurts. Not list the mistakes I made, not justify someone else's actions. Just name the hurts. To give myself permission to see the hurt and the wrong for what it was. To release the pressure I have been putting on myself.

     So that is what I am going to attempt to do. Over time, I'm going to name the hurts. I am going to own the fears that have been weighing me down. I am going to seek to find myself again. I am going to take back my voice and my choice. 

     It is not going to be easy. I am using new muscles and it will be painful, but like my pastor, I'm curious to see who I will be once I feel fully seen and known. 

     Be patient with me, I am a work in progress, but I am just that, in progress.

Photo by Florian Klauer on Unsplash