Dignity And Worth

Have you ever heard a song that punched you in your gut and spoke to the very core of your being? I had that experience over two weeks ago and haven’t been able to get the song out of my head since.

In short, the song is about a son who longs for approval and acceptance from his father. It shares the singer’s gut-wrenching journey from ideas like,

“You’re the last thing I wanted or needed, boy. You make me sick. What am I supposed to say when my friends talk to me about you? Sure, I made you and you’re in this family, but all you do is embarrass me. I give you a roof over your head, food to eat, and pay for you to go to school, yet this is how you repay me? You’ll never amount to anything, boy. It’ll serve you right if you grow up miserable and lonely.”

to ideas like,

“Son, I need you to forgive me. I grew up learning that a man was only a man if he was tough and played sports—if he never cried—if he never showed weakness—if he was the head of the household, no questions asked. But now I’m not so sure. I don’t understand exactly who you are, and you’re very different than me, but I’ve realized that you’re you, and I want you to keep being you—no matter what my friends or anyone else says.”

Needless to say, by the end of the video—a stripped down recording with only acoustic guitar and voice—I was crying quiet tears.

Almost a decade ago, in the middle of a night when I couldn’t sleep, I got up and went to my computer and typed out these words:

I think that we each just want to be loved for who we are. Period. Not the idea of who we could be. Or the roles in which we function. Or the services, gifts, and talents that we offer. But who we are. Good, bad, ugly. I think we each need to know that we are honored and adored not by virtue of performance and perfection but by the triumph of waking up each day, breathing, and giving life a try.

I think that we each need places of unconditional acceptance: places to call home. We each need to know that, to someone, we are not second best--to someone, we are the cream of the crop,
the top notch, the best thing since sliced bread. Ideally, I think, we each receive that love from
our families. Ideally, our hunger for acceptance is satisfied by the seeds that gave us birth or the partnership that promised to honor and cherish. Ideally, we find comfort and peace in the place we lay our heads. No pretense. No intimidation. No fear. Just rest. And satisfaction. And joy.

But when those things are not there. When we are uncertain of our value. When we question and doubt the inherent beauty of existence. When we feel used, or reduced to function and performance, or we fear failure and disappointment. When we're forced into a mold that was not ours to live, paralyzed by discomfort, lost. When our spirits are not nurtured and allowed the freedom to soar--to explore the world and discover the depths of creation, the places where we fit, the points at which we flourish--we slowly begin to die: our bodies exhausted, our hearts wounded, our minds numb, our spirits suffocated and…then what?

I suppose we pick up the pieces and begin to live again. I suppose we apologize for reducing people to ideas and roles and function, for identifying individuals by what they do rather than who they are--what they like, how they love, when they dream--for not celebrating unique personality but honoring the status-quo. I suppose we vow never to let anyone feel as if she is not loved for who she is. Period. I suppose we fill the gaping hole called needy
beast with the unfathomable love of God, manifest both in God's still small, unexplainable voice and the loud voice of tangible community, and let that love transform the very core of our being. I suppose we allow ourselves to feel again, to experience and release emotion, however raw and difficult, however many tears it brings, and give it permission to bridge the gap between knowledge and understanding.

We are all loved for who we are. We are all created to be who we are. But I think we each just need to be reminded of that fact through words and deeds and actions and gifts and time—that we each need to know that we are loved for who we are. Period. Over and over and over and over and over again.

Friends, I dare say that there are more people than not singing that songwriter’s song and waking up in the middle of the night with hearts about to burst. I dare say that there are more people than not picking up broken pieces and trying to salvage them through time, hope, confession and forgiveness. Each of us is human. Each of us makes mistakes. Ever so often or every single day, each of us makes poor choices and passes harsh judgments. Each of us struggles to love and be at peace with ourselves though most of us don’t realize the struggle. Most of us allow or force the struggle to lurk in the shadows of hyper-functioning, power, and control. Yet, in the end, way down deep, don’t 99% of us just want the same thing? To safely love and be loved? And to live with a sense of purpose and the certainty of safe acceptance?

Oh God: For all of the times we have acted as the father at the beginning of the songwriter’s song, forgive us; and then allow us to journey with one another not to a place of harsh opposites behind walls of difference but to a place of loving openness in front of those walls. Help us to arrive and live in the space of the father at the end of the songwriter’s song and to love people as they are—even when we don’t understand or agree—and to value their dignity and worth as your creation. You are the One who has the ability to grow and transform. You are the One who ultimately changes lives. Help us to leave the changes to You as you work through our steady love and help us to trust You enough to do Your work in other people’s lives—and in our very own. I love you. Period. Always and always and forevermore. Amen.