Showing posts with label bebo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bebo. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Permission to Fail

I was going to respond to a recent comment, but realized my response was quickly becoming too long for the little comment box. So I'll post my thoughts here. Thanks, Walking Church, for identifying the burden of the pedestal:
I don't like that burden much - it seems so unfair - I am just a redeemed man who makes his share of mistakes - most of the time 'a great guy' but frequently humbled by looking at the 'jerk' in the mirror. I guess I believe I have tasted mercy and need to extend it.
Just for the record, I don't walk around assuming men are jerks. Although my motto in high school was "Not all boys are jerks; some are dead." Until a guy snapped back with "Not all girls are dumb; some can cook." In fact, I'm pretty good at giving guys the benefit of the doubt. And more often than not, I'm the one defending the boyfriend or the husband when the girl is frustrated (or homicidal).

Not all that long ago, I had to confront myself (which can be awkward) after making a rather uncomfortable assumption about someone. In a moment of painful honesty, I knew that my disappointment had absolutely nothing to do with him. I was merely comparing him to the man I thought he was. Or wanted him to be. And that wasn't fair. Because the version in my head DOES NOT EXIST. And no one wants to be weighed against fiction. It's brain porn.

It's easy to blame Jerry Maguire for what's happening to our expectations. Too often, women become the walking wounded after investing their hearts in anticipation of a "You complete me" moment that never comes. Because, quite frankly, no broken human is going to complete another broken human. Complement? Sure. But not complete. And one of the hardest things to do is accept that a certain level of dissatisfaction comes from a need for the eternal.

I love how Bebo Norman describes it:
Loneliness is really the issue here, and loneliness doesn't discriminate. It bites every soul created with that God-shaped vacuum inside. It's common ground, really. For believers and unbelievers alike. Because we all know, whether we admit it or not, that regardless of how beautiful and full the relationships in our life may be, there's something else we long for. Something even more beautiful. Something even more full.
One thing I've learned in recent years (I do learn on occasion) is that men are just as insecure as we are. That no one has any clue about anything. And as women cling to romantic notions of the perfect man, men stumble around, feeling more and more inadequate. I've had so many conversations with frustrated souls about how men can't step up because they don't feel they're good enough. He wants to have it all together first. He wants to be proud of his life before he can share it with anyone. He wants it figured out.

Secret of the day: No one has it figured out.

And that's not what I'm asking for.

I'm looking for that messy*, imperfect, vulnerable guy seeking after God's heart.

*Maybe not literally messy. Just we're-on-this-crazy-adventure-together messy.

Fail - Kendall Payne

I love this song. No pedestals. Just learning to love in spite of and because of failure. I think it's time to start giving each other permission to be imperfect. (I'm not endorsing the jerk, but I'm willing to forgive the man who acts like one.)

The end.

Monday, June 09, 2008

Where the Angels Sleep

I woke up with "Where the Angels Sleep" in my head last Saturday morning. The day before my grandmother died. And while the chorus used to stir me, this time the verses seemed startlingly personal. Every time the song cycles through a season of my life, I identify with something new. Sometimes I find it encouraging. And sometimes it makes me cry. So it's never 100% me. But it's often close.

And then last Sunday happened. And the song was neatly tucked into the back of my mind.

Yesterday, I started sorting through the endless stacks of sheet music in my apartment. Scratch that. The endless stacks of poorly photocopied chords covered with transposed scratches and lyric adjustments. A crinkled, melodic chaos. As I was sorting through the mess, I found the lyrics to the gorgeous song that looped over and over in my head a mere week ago, all typed up prettily from the days of when I would tape lyrics to my wall. The chords permanently sit at my piano. And the CD is always but a lonely night away.

Sometimes a girl's just gotta turn up the tunes, turn down the lights and hug her pillow.
Where the Angels Sleep - Bebo Norman
(Listen to the whole song here.)

I don't know why I always run
Is it fear of the fall or fear of the touch?
And I don't know where the angels sleep

And I don't know how to really love
I've never stood still long enough
And I don't know where the angels sleep

But I am alive and standing strong
I'm no farther forward, just farther along
I hold on to my pride and dig in deep
It's pulling me down, and I am no closer to release
And I don't know where the angels sleep

I don't know how to see you now
The friend from before is different somehow
And I don't know where the angels sleep

And I don't know when I'll love again
But I don't trust myself to just let you in
And I don't know where the angels sleep

It's taken ten thousand days
To get stuck in my ways
And it offers no grace
I cannot stand this place
With love in my face
I walk away slowly

I don't know where the angels sleep
No, I don't know where the angels sleep
No matter how much as I play it on the piano, I just don't sound like a boy with a guitar.