Circus Lights

I think for those of us "here", it would shock if we speak it. Because most of our worlds have a face. The one everyone around us sees. The person we are seen as. And that person doesn't speak such stark. But what if it's true? What if we are this raw. This undone. This agonized...

We are the always smiling. The planner. The get together event organizer.  The make others laugh and always encourage. We are the silly. The gracious. The I will help with everything. The super mom. The bible study leader. The workout woman. The homeschool poster. The good Christian girl. The pastors wife. The best friend. The worship team chick. The blaa blaa blaa. But what if there is a well... A depth we feel surging and verging to come out...

Maybe, like me, your silly is falling. The always being "the one", is aching. The expectation to be the expected person... The face of everyone's normal... This person wants to pack her bag. Sounds crazy right? But the real things ache. It surges. The real threatens to come out and no one will recognize this face. This person.... 

We are apart of a Circus. We keep our light bulbs changing out. Our wheels spinning to give everyone around us the expected results. The thing is, there is a twist. Though it would be convenient to blame any, no, everyone... It isn't that simple. We have a part in this fairway of lights. We choose to play the role. Moment after moment we step up to that plate. There are some of us who have had unfair or " unright" things layered upon us. Yes. It's true. But in this glorious unwinding God intends, for our perhaps buried but real souls, we see our part too. We rhythmically do what is expected without a break in mind motion or soul ponder. We never ask Jesus these "certain" things, and before we know it, these "responses" mold us into our confused, poised selves. Layer upon complicated layer. 

It's gruesome. Both the realization that we may not be able to keep this up, but also the realization that maybe we shouldn't. That very real possibility hitting you square in the face...

  That this isn't what God has for me. 

We weren't made to please men. We weren't made to tight rope walk our way into love, and tame lions to keep it. Costumes on, costumes off. Day in and day out. Then one day it happens. Lights flashing full blink in our faces... The whole fairway goes death quiet though wheels keep spinning. Like the call to step out has found us. Our weary, worn down, nothing left soul just stands there. Clowns blowing fire in our faces, and ticket salesman shoving tickets into our hands. Here, like this, in this, we hear it.

" Come out..."

So we try our brave. These slow feet grasping with each step, possible freedom. 

Taunting voices revile our decision. Judgers, like jugglers, throw mock in our faces. Roller coaster rides screaming "worthless"  in our ears. 

"This is all you have..."

"This is the only thing your good at..."

"This is what pays the piper..."

"This. Is. Who. You. Are."

Snarls rise and hell fights to keep you in these gates! Lights, smoke, screams, crowds. Pressure... Pressure....pressure....

But that Voice keeps pulling at you. 

Those words. 

" You were made for more than this."

So you walk out. Gate clicks behind you. Everything in you screaming this is wrong. Wrong to follow a voice others aren't. Even others who are supposed to be the same as you. The same? But you can't stay away from this Love. This song you hear in the wind... Floating like hope from somewhere deep.  Because you can't fight to keep what others Indian give any longer. There is this other pulse. A love that doesn't make you pass a test. 

Love...love...love...

Like a pulse you can't shake. An answer to all this agony. To being free from all this shame. Shame that you keep falling from a tight rope that seems to strangle you after every show. If these expectations are right, why are you dying? Why am I ready to pack up the whole of me and run to heal alone up there. Away from eyes that mock and tongues that scoff.

We were never made to please man.

The complication of all this is, what is our part? We have to let the Lord untangle this mangle. And we have to realize we play the role. People's expectations can be abrasive and corrosive... But when we say yes to that tight rope, we are forming our soul around a lie. We are committing to finding value in what suffocates. An endless asking to be wanted. Loved. Seen. Worth it. Cared for....  

We chase a taunt that will never feed us.