So, there's this one Commandment--this is relevant because it showed up in my devotional the other day--"Do not worship any other gods besides Me" (Deuteronomy 5:7). When I was younger, I used to think of the whole "not worshiping any other gods" thing as pretty cut in dry. You know: Don't start praying to Zeus, and you're in the clear. Then, when I got a little bit older, someone said, "We worship other gods all the time" and put it in a very what-you-spend-most-your-time-doing sort of light. So, TV, internet, phones, those were all the Big Bads. Not that thinking of it that way got me away from those. See? I'm on the internet right now and just a few sentences ago I made an allusion to a TV show I've been marathoning.
But, in my devotional, the author put it a different way. She said that, most of the time, our idols are just things we want really badly. And they don't even have to be bad things. They can be things like... wanting to be a good spouse. Or wanting a certain job. Or wanting to be physically healthy. And, the idea is that, well, all of these wants can be good. But if they get to be the point where that one thing is the source of your happiness, and occupies the bulk of your focus, well, then they aren't so good.
And, yeah, I'm talking about this with a perspective based on your relationship to God. So, having "being a good student" be the focus of your attention and the source of your happiness is problematic because it interferes with your closeness to God. But, from an areligious perspective, having "being a good student" be the focus of your attention and the source of your happiness is problematic because it interferes with your just general ability to be happy. It mistakenly makes your worth something that you achieve, but that's not so. Your worth is innate. So... idols are problematic for everyone, is the point.
Anyway, in my response to my devotional, I started thinking about my wants. The first thing that sprang to mind is the first thing that usually springs to mind when I think about what I really want: I want to be good. I want to be kind and gentle, I want to bring happiness, light, and love to others. I want to be patient and forgiving. I want to be so unlike what I am.
But, see, my big want doesn't interfere with my relationship to God. It aligns with it. That want? The want to be good? It keeps me crying out to Him. It's what I pray for. And it's what you're supposed to get with a relationship to God. Honest. It says it in there all the time. I don't know what book those kooks who go around telling people God hates them and sends suicide bombers have been reading. Because Jesus is all about not throwing stones and forgiving our trespassers and Love.
Back to the point. For a long time I used to day dream about falling in love. And I'm not saying that I don't any more. Every now and then I do. But I used to all the time. And then it occurred to me: it is too big of a gamble to have my happiness dependent on finding romantic love. It is entirely possible that boys will just never like me. And then I'd end up 57 and pissed off that my life had never turned out to be a Katherine Heigl movie. That's when I started daydreaming about Independence. About how I would organize my apartment when I finally lived on my own. And how I would spend my evenings. And whether or not I would get a large dog to feel safer--single girl living in the city, you know?--or maybe I would get a cat.
So I almsot wrote that down. Independence could be my idol. I wasn't even concerned with how I would break my idol habit with Independence as an idol. I was just going to acknowledge it and move on. When it hit me: my own skin.
I have never had "good" skin. Part of that is just natural, I think. But also, a compulsion that came along with my generalized anxiety disorder is the tendency to pick at my skin. A few months ago, my skin issues started worsening. I would get large, hard to cover up, lumps on my face. They would stay for a couple of weeks, and eventually dissipate. This was problematic, but I was dealing. A couple of weeks ago, however, a lumpy, irritated, patch of rash?breakout?terribleness appeared along my jawline. Besides being ugly and disfiguring, it has the added bonus of being painful. Moreover, it's bright red and somehow also flakey.
And I have been obsessing over it. I have tried numerous tactics--face masks, face washes, spot treatments, and steroid ointments, to name a few--and nothing has made it go away. I obsessively check my appearance in the mirror. I apply more and more makeup throughout the day. And on multiple occasions it has brought me to tears.
You see? I might be a chunky girl with frizzy hair and the kind of eyebrows that draw the not-so-pleasant sort of attention from makeup counter girls, but I'm also really pretty. Except for this damn thing on my face.
And, sure, I know that my worth doesn't stem from my appearance. I'm smart and funny and sometimes I'm even nice to people. Plus, remember earlier? Worth is innate. It comes from the simple fact that we are. God made us, and that makes us worthy. But because of my vanity and because my own appearance is an idol of mine, I have a hard time seeing that. (Also because of perverse aspects of socialization that place women's worth in their appearance...)
To add insult to disgusting-disfiguring-skin-problems, I felt this very strong "how to move past this idol" calling. There's this book that I intend to read sometime... after I've finished my homework, and I've finished rewatching all of Buffy the Vampire Slayer... that this woman wrote as part of a social experiment wherein she spent one year without looking in a mirror. So I'm assuming she also spent a year without wearing makeup.
And I thought to myself, ask soon as I realized that my own skin was an idol, "I should go, say, a week without wearing any makeup."
And then I immediately thought... but I can't do that.
And why can't I do that?
But, in my devotional, the author put it a different way. She said that, most of the time, our idols are just things we want really badly. And they don't even have to be bad things. They can be things like... wanting to be a good spouse. Or wanting a certain job. Or wanting to be physically healthy. And, the idea is that, well, all of these wants can be good. But if they get to be the point where that one thing is the source of your happiness, and occupies the bulk of your focus, well, then they aren't so good.
And, yeah, I'm talking about this with a perspective based on your relationship to God. So, having "being a good student" be the focus of your attention and the source of your happiness is problematic because it interferes with your closeness to God. But, from an areligious perspective, having "being a good student" be the focus of your attention and the source of your happiness is problematic because it interferes with your just general ability to be happy. It mistakenly makes your worth something that you achieve, but that's not so. Your worth is innate. So... idols are problematic for everyone, is the point.
Anyway, in my response to my devotional, I started thinking about my wants. The first thing that sprang to mind is the first thing that usually springs to mind when I think about what I really want: I want to be good. I want to be kind and gentle, I want to bring happiness, light, and love to others. I want to be patient and forgiving. I want to be so unlike what I am.
But, see, my big want doesn't interfere with my relationship to God. It aligns with it. That want? The want to be good? It keeps me crying out to Him. It's what I pray for. And it's what you're supposed to get with a relationship to God. Honest. It says it in there all the time. I don't know what book those kooks who go around telling people God hates them and sends suicide bombers have been reading. Because Jesus is all about not throwing stones and forgiving our trespassers and Love.
Back to the point. For a long time I used to day dream about falling in love. And I'm not saying that I don't any more. Every now and then I do. But I used to all the time. And then it occurred to me: it is too big of a gamble to have my happiness dependent on finding romantic love. It is entirely possible that boys will just never like me. And then I'd end up 57 and pissed off that my life had never turned out to be a Katherine Heigl movie. That's when I started daydreaming about Independence. About how I would organize my apartment when I finally lived on my own. And how I would spend my evenings. And whether or not I would get a large dog to feel safer--single girl living in the city, you know?--or maybe I would get a cat.
So I almsot wrote that down. Independence could be my idol. I wasn't even concerned with how I would break my idol habit with Independence as an idol. I was just going to acknowledge it and move on. When it hit me: my own skin.
I have never had "good" skin. Part of that is just natural, I think. But also, a compulsion that came along with my generalized anxiety disorder is the tendency to pick at my skin. A few months ago, my skin issues started worsening. I would get large, hard to cover up, lumps on my face. They would stay for a couple of weeks, and eventually dissipate. This was problematic, but I was dealing. A couple of weeks ago, however, a lumpy, irritated, patch of rash?breakout?terribleness appeared along my jawline. Besides being ugly and disfiguring, it has the added bonus of being painful. Moreover, it's bright red and somehow also flakey.
And I have been obsessing over it. I have tried numerous tactics--face masks, face washes, spot treatments, and steroid ointments, to name a few--and nothing has made it go away. I obsessively check my appearance in the mirror. I apply more and more makeup throughout the day. And on multiple occasions it has brought me to tears.
You see? I might be a chunky girl with frizzy hair and the kind of eyebrows that draw the not-so-pleasant sort of attention from makeup counter girls, but I'm also really pretty. Except for this damn thing on my face.
And, sure, I know that my worth doesn't stem from my appearance. I'm smart and funny and sometimes I'm even nice to people. Plus, remember earlier? Worth is innate. It comes from the simple fact that we are. God made us, and that makes us worthy. But because of my vanity and because my own appearance is an idol of mine, I have a hard time seeing that. (Also because of perverse aspects of socialization that place women's worth in their appearance...)
To add insult to disgusting-disfiguring-skin-problems, I felt this very strong "how to move past this idol" calling. There's this book that I intend to read sometime... after I've finished my homework, and I've finished rewatching all of Buffy the Vampire Slayer... that this woman wrote as part of a social experiment wherein she spent one year without looking in a mirror. So I'm assuming she also spent a year without wearing makeup.
And I thought to myself, ask soon as I realized that my own skin was an idol, "I should go, say, a week without wearing any makeup."
And then I immediately thought... but I can't do that.
And why can't I do that?
- The release party is this weekend
- Liz's Halloween party is next week
- And I have to judge debate next weekend
- Plus there's school
- And this thing on my face is terrible
- And everyone will be like, "OH MY GOODNESS WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"
- And I'll probably make people sick just to look at me...
And I'm so... mad at myself? I feel so pathetic and stupid and shallow and vain. And what really bothers me is that the day before I flippantly wrote in my prayers booklet,
"Have I sacrificed anything for you? I can't think of a single time. And yet I am always pleading you to change me. What sacrifice can I make for you?" and then "Please, show me how and what I can sacrifice for you."
And what if that was it? It came to me so clearly. Give up this one weakness and I don't know if I can do it. I'm like Jonah. Except, well... if I got swallowed by a big fish and I spent three days and three nights in its stomach... well, I'd only have to go four days without makeup. Right?
...I should really stop ending these blog posts with silly anecdotal jokes. It really discredits me, doesn't it? Ah well. Such is life.
No comments:
Post a Comment