Heartbreaker

A Facebook friend of mine recently posted a picture of her newborn nephew. She added the caption “He’s going to be such a heartbreaker.” Why do we describe handsome boys or pretty girls as future heartbreakers? Why do we associate popularity in middle school with breaking hearts in high school? And furthermore, why do we promote this as a good thing? Having one’s heart broken, whether by people or events, is not a fun thing. Ask anyone. Heartbreak hurts, just like breaking your foot or arm hurts.  Just like physical injuries (breaks, sprains, stubbed toes), we are all bound to experience a broken heart at some point in our lives. But that doesn’t mean we want to. And why would we want our children or ourselves to be the source someone else’s heartbreak? It makes no sense to me.

                As a child, I suppose I was pretty enough. My parents, grandparents and a few close family friends always told me how beautiful I was, though I suspect I could have been very ugly and they still would have seen me as beautiful. But I was never drop-dead gorgeous. As a teen, I was quiet, studious, and a tad socially awkward. I was not a heartbreaker by any stretch of the imagination. I had friends and acquaintances that were described as such; they were beautiful girls who spoke easily to boys, flirted without meaning to, and left a trail of crushed boys in their wake. But I was not that girl. For a while, I was disappointed that I wasn’t like them. Of course, we all hope to be the girl that all the boys chase, but some of us aren’t.  In fact, I have never been overly popular with the guys, at least not like that. In college I hung out with mainly guys at church (there weren’t many college aged girls there), but they were all the big-brother type to me. Which is fine.  In fact, now I am glad I wasn’t a heartbreaker.

                I’d prefer to be a heart-mender - the person who bandages people up enough to get them to the doctor who can truly fix them up. I want to be a person who comforts the broken and gives them hope that there is a Physician out there who will completely mend their broken hearts. In fact, He will do such a good job at mending it, they will be better than new. Heartbreakers tear down, whether they mean to or not. Heart-menders build up, and take you to the Doctor. That’s what I want to be.

Challenge Accepted

A character from a television show I watch frequently has a habit. He will come up with outlandish ideas, and ask if anyone will dare or challenge him to do it. They almost never do, but he still responds with “Challenge accepted!” and try to accomplish whatever feat it is that day.  Now, hold on to that thought and go with me back to a morning in early September when I opened my daily devotional email.

            “<Jesus> never hurried. He never panicked. He was never driven by the tyranny of the urgent. If I were in his sandals, I probably would have been wringing my hands with all I had to accomplish in three and a half years. I can hear myself now: “I’ve got three and a half years to make a difference. How can I cram all the miracles and teaching into this short amount of time?”

Three and a half years translates into 1,278 days. If you go back and count the days recorded in the four gospels, you’d come up considerably short. So what was Jesus doing on the days that were not mentioned by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John? He lived His life. He worked. He ate. He washed. He partied. He prayed. He studied. He meditated. He listened. The Sacred lived in the midst of the secular.

          Paul wrote: “Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God,” (1 Corinthians 10:31 NASB). Whatever you do…’ ” (Sharon Jaynes)

 
          The point of the devotional was that we can live in and for God no matter what we are doing. We can do laundry for the glory of God, grocery shop for the glory of God, etc. Even now as I am writing this, the Newsboys are singing “It’s my joy to honor you. In all I do, to honor you” on my Pandora. Not a coincidence.  God wants me to do everything in my busy life with the purpose of bringing honor and glory to Him. 
 

But there was one part of the devotional that especially got me to thinking: I can hear myself now: “I’ve got three and a half years to make a difference. How can I cram all the miracles and teaching into this short amount of time?” And it occurred to me: (It is generally accepted that) Jesus began his ministry at 30. He did all that between the ages of 30 and 33 ½. Wow! 30 always seemed so old when thinking of Jesus and his ministry, but it really isn’t old at all. I will be 30 in just a few months (as my father, sister, and a family friend are happy to remind me regularly). What if, instead of constantly lamenting that I am almost 30 and very single (the one thing I never wanted), I focused on making a difference and living as Jesus did? So, for three and a half years, beginning on my 30^th birthday in February, I am going to do whatever God tells me to, go where He sends me, strive to constantly grow closer to Him, and tell everyone I can how awesome He is. I am certain it will not be the easiest mission I’ve ever taken on. And I very well may fail. But, nonetheless: Challenge accepted.

Try Try Again

           We all make mistakes, but no one likes to admit it. Some of us even get anxious and fearful of having to admit a mistake. Why?

In my ballet and tap classes, I encourage my dancers to make mistakes and not be perfect. That is how they improve. I don’t want my dancers fearing a mistake so much that they don’t try something new.  I’d rather them try and fail than never try. I constantly tell them “I don’t care if you’re not perfect. I just care that you try your best.”  But I often don’t take my own advice. How often do I shirk back for fear of being wrong or making a mistake? And when I do make a mistake, why am I so reticent to admit my own failings?

            I once worked with someone who would treat every mistake (on others’ parts) as a call to arms, and would begin a game plan for how to handle the contingency that allowed that particular slip up. It was a very hard environment to work in, because every mistake you made became a huge deal. We began to fear the repercussions before even making a minor error. This usually led to more problems, because we weren’t confidently performing our duties.  

            Clearly no one wants to ever be wrong, or to make a mistake. It is human nature to strive for perfection, though we will never obtain it.  But making mistakes is a part of life. It is going to happen. The key is how we handle them. Do we freak out over every error? Do we brush them off and repeat our mistakes? Do we retreat to the chocolate and Diet Coke? I think the answer is to learn from them without beating ourselves up. God doesn’t enjoy our imperfections, but He does work with them, without stressing over a new policy or procedure for every mistake we can or will ever make. Throughout the Bible we are given examples of people (normal humans) who make mistakes and God works through it. Just look at the life of David! We are also given examples of people who do things that could easily become mistakes, such as Esther. How different would her story (and the bigger picture of God’s story) be if she had gotten scared of making a mistake, and allowed that fear to stop her (God’s) plan?

            At the end of the day, I don’t want to hear “You were perfect.” I want to hear “’Well done, good and faithful servant.’ You tried your best, and you let Me take care of the rest.” And drank a lot of Diet Coke in the process. :)