Paradoxes

I am a paradox. (My apologies to Sister if this sets the tone for the entire blog reading and causes your brain to explode.)

Reading through some blogs and subsequent blog comments the other day, I came across this comment:  "At some points I feel like I am looking right directly into your eyes and at other times I am looking up at you. I have disciplined myself to look at others higher than myself." I immediately had to reread the comment again, and the lightbulb of conviction (ya'll know what I'm talking about) flicked on in my head.

As I sat pondering this comment, conviction poured over me. I realised that this is not how I generally treat people in my life. At least in my mind, I tend to categorise people based on how much enjoyment I get out of spending time with them, or on what they can do for me. Rarely (if ever) do I consider what they are hiding behind the facade they show the world. I never consider their struggles, and if I do, it is generally with an internal attitude of disdain. 

God knows I have struggles of my own. Bad ones. Ones I tend to keep on their leash when others are around. But its like my brain has a disconnect in it. When I judge someone for the struggles they have, I never stop to consider the fact that I am no better than they are. 

Today, when reading this blog comment, the Lord convicted me about how prideful I really am.

How I tend to look down on people in their imperfections.

How I carry myself like I'm better than so-and-so.

And then, the paradox.

I am so insecure with myself sometimes. In certain social settings, I feel inadequate. I feel as though people can see right through me. Can see my struggles, my fears, my sinful ways. 

Maybe I use my pride / judgments to cover up these insecurities. Maybe I use assertiveness to hide my awkwardness in certain social settings. But why?

I want to be able to look a person in the eyes and have compassion on them when I see in them a struggle I find myself dealing with as well.  I want to feel that empathy that comes from connecting on a level deeper than the superficial, day-to-day level on which most people interact. And I want to be able to look up to those people who are real and vulnerable enough to be open and honest enough to reveal their insecurities and struggles. 

Many times in the Gospels, Jesus, teaching his "kingdom ethics" (most of which turn the ethics of worldly kingdoms on their heads), honors humility:

the first shall be last, and the last shall be first

he who exalts himself shall be humbled, and he who humbles himself shall be exalted

whoever is greatest among you, let him be your servant

This is the paradox of Jesus' 'kingdom' ethics. To live in this world, but  to live as members of a different Kingdom, and as such, to abide by the 'laws' (if you will) of that Kingdom.

Compassion. Empathy. Humility. These are all characteristics that every person possesses to some degree or another. But do we allow our lives to be dominated by them? No. Do we allow them to govern our interactions with fellow human beings, believers and non-believers alike? No. 

When a person is at their lowest point in life, whether because of poor choices, broken relationships, job loss, the loss of a loved one, or whatever the case may be, do we demonstrate Christ's love to them and share in their pain? Or do we kick them and beat them up even more, forcing them to feel even more isolated in their pain and struggles? Do we step out of our comfort zones and bring comfort to those who need it the most?

I offer as an alternative that we begin obeying Christ's command -- "deny yourselves, take up your cross daily and follow me". We don't carry crosses alone; not even Jesus carried His alone. When I see someone struggling to survive under the heavy loads he bears -- loads of sin, temptation, internal struggles -- instead of standing there with my square stance and my arms crossed over my chest, amusing myself with someone else's pain, perhaps I should extend a helping hand, look him square in the eyes, and show him that his pain is my pain, that his burden is my burden, and that I am going to help him carry that burden as far as need be.

This is the friend I want to be, and this is the Christ-follower I am called to be. 

So maybe next time I see a person being real about their struggles, reaching out for another human being to feel a warm embrace or to know they're not all alone in this vast universe, maybe I will take a moment to consider my struggles. Maybe I will look him deeply in the eyes and see the pain inside his soul and I will realise that his pain is my pain. 

Or maybe I will discipline myself to look at others as higher than myself. As someone I can look up to as a model of Christ-like behavior. It goes against normal human behavior, but as members of a New Kingdom, it is the only way. And it is a paradox.