I had been struck by a person earlier
that day, how quickly and almost causally contempt overtook them.
They would just be sitting there, being their sweet self, and
negativity would burst forth. It came so hot and so often, it was
like tuning into someone's “umms” or chewing noises, once
you've heard it you can't stop hearing it. Then I started paying
attention to how this was making me feel, and I noticed I felt
completely thrown off and worn down by it. The pleasant conversation
would so abruptly switch, not to words against me necessarily, just
to words against. And I got so tired of trying to keep myself
positive, trying to fight off the meanness of it, that I just wanted
to leave.
I don't think they mean to be this way,
I thought. I know this person. This is a lovely person. But this is
not lovely. This is the opposite. It occurred to me that they
probably are not even hearing it anymore. That contempt had become a
habit, like a bad smell in your own house when the only one not
smelling it is you. God, I prayed, give them new ears to hear their
own words, and their sweet spirit, that wants wholeness, will answer
you.
In my experience, God always takes our
prayers a little more seriously than we take them.
So, wouldn't you know, there I was
yesterday talking. Being my sweet self on a lawn chair in a group of
women I love on the most beautiful day. Pleasant, pleasant,
affirming, and contributing. And suddenly, out of my mouth, lava. It
struck without warning. It was one of those moments when you say
something and the words just hang in the air in front of you, you
can't escape them, you just have to sit there in a circle with your
friends and look at them as they ring over and over in the new ears
that you prayed for someone else but God gave you. He had not stopped
at new ears either. My new eyes took in the moment, the faces of
those women, and I saw how the words had struck, and how I had thrown
them off balance.
I wanted to leave, immediately. I wanted to hide. I told myself to shut up, to be quiet and be kind. My shame did the opposite though. It just released more poison in me. And there it came, out again, words like acid, against against against. Contempt and me fought a battle and I lost. I left and I wished I wouldn't have ever brought my monster of a self there. I shouldn't have left my house. I shouldn't be allowed to have friends or say words (this is how I was feeling).
I wanted to leave, immediately. I wanted to hide. I told myself to shut up, to be quiet and be kind. My shame did the opposite though. It just released more poison in me. And there it came, out again, words like acid, against against against. Contempt and me fought a battle and I lost. I left and I wished I wouldn't have ever brought my monster of a self there. I shouldn't have left my house. I shouldn't be allowed to have friends or say words (this is how I was feeling).
Contempt has a fortress built up in my
heart. Seriously, a bunker. It is dug down deep and built up high and
I have been trying to dismantle it for years. As I reflect this
morning, I am reminded that shame and isolation and fear often seem
like the tools to defeat it, but they just add to the layers of
protection around it. Honesty, compassion, and repentance are the
only things I can used to tear this down.
With honesty in my hands, I can admit
that I keep contempt around, even though I hate it, because it makes
me feel strong and it makes me feel legitimate. I use it to bully my
way into a space in the world, into having a voice, into making
allies by pointing out enemies. These are the lies I have bought
again and again, that contempt works. Praise God, for new ears, new
eyes: it doesn't work. It delivers the opposite of what it's selling.
It discredits my voice with its violence, it steps into a space that
isn't mine and so I can't fill the spot I was meant to fill, and it
pushes away the people I was trying to be close to with its
manipulation.
Compassion comes to replace shame when
I remember that God knows all about my monster-self already. So do
all my friends. The only one who doesn't notice the contempt smell in
my house is me. My shame comes from thinking I was keeping this a
secret, that I was fooling them all, and now I've been found out and
everyone is going to leave. But come on, it was no secret, and yet I will gather with all those women again, many times. Of course I am lacking, just like the friend I loved
and prayed for that started this whole thing, and no one is really
that shocked about it. What freedom! I am loved anyway.
Repentance means to turn. Turn back,
turn around, come home. That's what I am hearing this morning: the
strong, kind voice of God. "Don't be afraid," He is saying, "you've wandered down that old path again, you
got confused about who you are and what you need, just turn around
and come back, Kylee." And here it is, my own sweet spirit, who wants
wholeness, answering.
We can trust these things. We can come home. We can choose the new thing. We can keep choosing it.
We can trust these things. We can come home. We can choose the new thing. We can keep choosing it.