Two Stones In My Pocket

It’s practically a miracle that I got married. 

As a young person, I was colder than Elsa to guys my age. I avoided talking to them at all costs, and when I was forced to, I used sarcasm. In high school, one guy told me that I made him cry and another rebuked me for being mean. These interactions have been embedded in my memory for 30 years because I remember how stunned I was to hear them. In my head, I was a nice person. I never set out to be a jerk. 

My harshness was not for lack of attraction; I had as many crushes as the boy-crazy flirt. I was simply terrified of people. I was not timid; I loved being on stage and performing when I had a script telling me exactly what to say at exactly the right moment. Real life gave me no such script.

I gained confidence in college, though even Gil remembers that my first interaction with him was intentionally distant. So it is pretty miraculous that I figured out how to be friendly enough for him to fall in love with me. 

I now recognize that my reticence was very much connected to insecurity. Around people my age, I was easily intimidated, and I felt young and insignificant. I was too proud to be nervous and groveling, so it was easier to be cold and sarcastic.  

G.K. Chesterton wrote, “It is always the secure who are humble.” My insecurity made me unkind, anxious, unfriendly. As I’ve aged, I see in myself the link between growing more secure and how well I love others.

Now I watch my own children. The most secure one is also the friendliest and happiest. The most insecure one can be the most irritable and mean. Feeding my parental fears, I listened to a YouTube psychologist explain that narcissists are deeply insecure. Which rings true.

We hear, “You just need to love yourself.” Yet honing in on self-esteem can produce a person who can’t handle criticism. Entitled participation trophies create children who fall apart with failure. “Following your heart” can result in affairs and fatherless children. “Finding yourself” keeps many from recognizing the value of tenacious self-sacrifice.

Christians have rightly rejected these mantras. Yet I wonder if in our zeal to reject the notion of self-esteem, we have overlooked something important. Indeed, the truth of understanding ourselves as sinners, guilty before God, is a core tenet of the Christian faith. But are we then skimming over the truth that we are worthy of saving? 

As in every false worldview, the self-esteem philosophy gives us a nugget of truth. We can and should esteem ourselves because God does. Each human life has value simply by being human, whether disabled or depressed or unborn. Yet self-esteem, as it was meant to be, should not end in self-centeredness. Precisely the opposite. 

A Jewish rabbi allegedly said, “A man should carry two stones in his pocket. On one should be inscribed, ‘I am but dust and ashes.’ On the other, ‘For my sake was the world created.’ And he should use each stone as he needs it.”

In our passion for picking up our cross and suffering for Him, do we leave in the dust those already suffering under the weight of abuse, abandonment, anguish? Do some need our message of self-sacrifice to begin first with the message of self-worth? 

Just as some are born with a physical disability, personality traits are dealt out like poker cards – some people sing with confidence and some fold at the slightest adversity. My secure child says, “I love my life! I love being me!” and my insecure one harbors dark discontentment. Both are being raised in the same family, in the same home. The Unseen Hand that deals the deck of resiliency is not random or purposeless, but still mysterious. 

I’ve noticed a shift in how I parent my insecure child: Yes, I address the irritability and the unkindness, but also, I war against the insecurity. At night, I find myself in this child’s bedroom, laboring to inject truth into the soul. You are loved. You are worthy of love. You are valuable. You are made in God’s image. You are precious to Him. You are precious to us. This will never change. And daily, with eye contact: I love you. But God loves you more.

That same Unseen Hand offers security as a gift for all to discover. True, I’ve always been an introvert, and I had to learn the rules of small talk and the profit of eye contact and a firm handshake. Certainly, maturity and experience contributed to my trek towards security. But most significant, by far, was God’s truth embedding in me.

Why would I fear failure when the purpose of this life is not my success? Why would I seek to cover up guilt when it’s already been redeemed? If my Creator’s reality trumps all, why would I fret over others’ opinions?

Tim Keller wrote, “The only person whose opinion counts, the creator God of the universe, looks at me in Christ and finds me more valuable than all the jewels in the earth. Why worry about being snubbed now? Why care too much about what we look like in the mirror?”

As these seeds have been deeply planted and rooted in me, the fruit of this security is love. Love without conditions, without reservations, without expectations. 

Of course, selfishness still fights to be queen in my life. Regularly, I do not love well. I may not be cold as I once was, but I gravitate toward being a smart aleck, which is often wholly unrelated to my self-worth. Yet, shame does not consume me. Vulnerability no longer frightens me. In a broken world, an upward trajectory is what we hope for. And this I have experienced.