It’s getting hard to see through the glass again. Our Labrador is passive and sweet and attentive to us when we’re at home, but the dried nose prints and slobber now blurring the front window indicate that he is not completely docile when we’re away.
The remnants of canine angst distort the scene outside, just like the remnants of our pain distort others’ views of us.
Consider an area of your life where you have been hurt. Someone you loved abused you or broke up with you, or the boss you admired fired you, or someone you trusted told your secret. The pain is mean and insidious; it cripples us in surprising ways. We may feel, like the psalmist, “my soul refuses to be comforted” (Psalm 77:2). The pain might make us want revenge, or it might make us apathetic. We may find a way to cover our pain, like dog slobber covers that window, but inside us it festers. And, like with our bodies, wounds need to heal from the inside out.
NPR recently reported on how a conversation between a senior and a freshman at Stanford University led to a new transparency around the university (“Colleges See Rise in Mental Health Issues,” by Deborah Franklin, October 19, 2009). The freshman started talking about “a friend” dealing with depression, and the senior was able to say, “I’m bipolar.” From there, and with the help of others, they developed a theater production of 25 monologues dealing with different issues that had seemed taboo, and it has gotten people talking. The realization that someone feels the way we do not only is a great relief, but also feels like permission to tell our own stories, which becomes the beginning of the healing process.
So much of the distorting “slobber” in our lives is based on fear. We may fear that someone will discover our failures (no one is good at everything) or the mistakes we have hidden (we all have them). We may fear that “people won’t like the real me” (some won’t, but the ones who truly love you will). We may fear being alone, which Jesus seemed to experience when he cried, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” Yet the testimonies of billions of people through the ages say that God always is. God is with us; God is for us; God ever seeks to build and not tear down, to invite us to come out of our shells, not feel ashamed of us when we do.
My pastoral care professor at Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond suggests that we help people name their fears, with questions like, “What are you most fearful about?” and “Which of your fears is the most troubling?” Often, naming our fears is a big step toward conquering them.
In the movie, “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” the main character’s father believed Windex could cure anything. Scrape your elbow? Spray it with Windex; it’ll be fine in no time. In fact, Windex can help clean the dog slobber and nose prints off the window, but not without the tool of a paper towel or newspaper, and not without the strength of our muscles and mental determination. We are not alone. Communities of faith, at their best, remind us of this, and can be a big part of healing as well. Other tools are available, too (e.g., clergy, counseling centers, psychiatrists), to help us move from a place of pain not back to the way things were before the injury, but to a new place that can be as good or better than before.
What does transparency look like to you?
Donna Hopkins Britt is pastor of Calvary Baptist Church, 608 Campbell Avenue, SW, Roanoke, and can be contacted at [email protected].