Permission
Permission: January 15, 2020
Five o’clock traffic on a rainy afternoon. I needed to return a call, conjure up something for supper, help with piano practice, remind Jack about Scouts, confirm a babysitter, think about the Sunday School lesson, decorate the bare-since-Epiphany house ahead of weekend dinner guests, and, oh yeah, write a blog post.
I asked Emma and Jack what I should write about. I’m not sure Jack even registered that I was talking. Emma, though, said, “what did you want when you were a kid? What did you wish for? Write about that.”
We agreed I probably wanted a pony.
Emma said her friend, Lexi, was down to one wish, and we wondered whether people only have three wishes in a whole lifetime. That seemed kinda stingy, because we all agreed that what we want the most changes with time. Emma’s suggestion, slightly refined, was that each person should have three wishes for each stage of life: child, teen, young adult, adult. I told her I’d support her being ruler of the world if that was the type of law she’d enact. Three wishes each decade would be even better.
After making it home and returning the work call and helping with piano and deferring supper and forgetting about Scouts, I sat with a pad and jotted down things I’d wished for as a child/teen.
“A horse. A dog. A bicycle.
My brothers to play with me.
My brothers to laugh at my jokes.
To make the team.
To live up to other people’s expectations and not disappoint them.
That a boy would love me. Or maybe just choose me.
That adults would think I was smart and mature; that they would recognize me as a leader.
A guitar—‘cause that’s a perquisite for being a youth group leader, right?
To be liked and admired.
To live up to other people’s expectations and not disappoint them.
To be on the Montreat summer staff.
To be liked for who I was.
To be known.
To feel special.”
In looking over my list, the people from whom I sought affirmation changed, but the through line was this: I wanted to be wanted. I still do. Even though I am.
It’s a little embarrassing to admit it. Ubiquitous as it probably is, it’s hard to admit being needy. Especially in a country and society that demand individual strength; pull yourself up by your bootstraps resiliency; I did it my way independence; if you’re not the lead dog your view never changes success.
I think it’s not irrelevant to point out that when American Christians talk about sin, we get bogged down in individual sin far more than we grapple with—or even notice—corporate sin. We’re supposed to be able to succeed in life by ourselves. Turns out that doesn’t leave much room for God. It’s hard to surrender if I’m supposed to be self-sufficient.
As a child I absolutely felt loved by my parents and family. And I felt that God loved me.
I also understood that God had set some really high standards for me. Because God loved me, I had a lot of responsibility to live up to that love. Not to earn it, but to honor it properly. The right way. The Presbyterian/Southern American/White/Middle class/Girl way. I was taught to honor, revere, obey, fear, pray to God. I was taught to strive to be a disciple. God had big expectations. I figured God was pretty often disappointed. I imagined a stern God with loving, Basset Hound, try-again eyes.
As much as I wanted to be wanted as a child and young adult, I never got the message that only God can love me that much. And oh by way, that God already does.
Only in my later years have I come to trust that God could want me. Want me for who I am (which is to say, the way God made me). And to believe that God’s high expectations for me are a consequence of, not a test of, that love.
God loves me and indeed, created me to be the child God wants. As is. But not without room for improvement. That’s the little pinch of paradox that God loves to stir into any recipe.
The apostle Paul summed up this paradox nicely in II Corinthians 12.10. “Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.” And in Philippians he declares, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”
I guess that’s why we often end our prayers in Jesus’ name…amen. In the gospel of John Jesus says, “I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son” (14:13). And also, “Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be complete” (16:24)
By all means, ask God for direction, help, discernment, healing, success, victory, patience. But do so surrendering your own will, your own power, your own success and independence and self-sufficiency. Your own American-ness, view of Christianity, social status. Rely solely on God and in your weakness, God will make you strong in your discipleship.
Surrendering to God’s unconditional love is what frees us to be disciples in a world that scoffs at weakness. To call out corporate greed and institutional injustice. To demand equality and respect for each one of God’s children. Just as each child is. Every person on every side of every divide, each child is beloved of God.
On Christmas morning 2018, Emma was awake for an hour before she couldn’t stand it any longer. I agreed to get up, and I went to Jack’s bed. I rubbed his back and said gently, “It’s Christmas morning! Emma wants to go downstairs because she thinks Santa came. Do you think Santa came?” He nodded. “What do you hope he brought?” Groggily, without opening his eyes, Jack said, “Permission. I want permission for all the stuff you won’t let me do.”
I sat back blinking, open-mouthed and wordless. Ho Ho Ouch. I wasn’t expecting such a slap in the first waking moments of, arguably, a child’s best day of the year. But later that afternoon while we were all hiking, I ruminated on that exchange. What an honest, American answer.
Does it seem I’m only picking on America? I know this critique isn’t limited to us, but I also know from experience that it absolutely applies to us. I’m as proud of being an American as anyone (anyone!), and I am as guilty as anyone of our corporate sins.
Don’t we all want permission to be and to do just as we please? With a pony? License (which is not the same thing as liberty) to live only for ourselves? Without guilt or repercussion? Independent. Answering to no-one. Living on our own property with our own possessions, cheering our own team and eating our own barbeque with mustard- or possibly vinegar-based sauce. Most of us would also welcome some folks to join us, as long as they agree with us, or don’t stay very long, or keep their mouths shut.
Unfortunately, we can’t love license and be in love with God. We can’t be independent and a disciple. Not all of our wishes can come true.
But we can be loved. Deeply. We can be wanted. Wholly. God gives us permission to be exactly who God created us to be.
You are God’s gift to you. And to me.
