warning: this post is about to be written in haste. I can feel it. And I know I'm gonna want to erase it in a day or so when my rationality takes back over my mind. But, for right now, I want to be authentic -- authentic about the jadedness of my heart.
Speaking of authentic...what's the deal with that word? It's a buzzword that seems to have permeated every conversation of Generation Y.
We want to be authentic people. People who honestly share our hearts, thoughts, feelings, etc. We want to portray ourselves as true as possible. We admire the genuine; we're beginning to abhor the false and fake.
And I think authenticity is beautiful. I really do. I think the truer, the better. Truth is radiant and attractive. Deception is ugly and repulsive.
But what happens when we begin to covet it? What happens when we put the idea of authenticity above the actual person? What happens when we begin to make authenticity into an idol in our lives?
I feel like we've begun to make authenticity a synonym for brokenness; meaning, if we're not broken and messy and verbal about it, we're probably being fake.
And I have a hard time with this. I have hard time fetishizing authenticity and brokenness.
I think we've become so consumed with this term of "being authentic" because it is in our authenticity that we feel most known; we feel most cared for; we feel most ourselves, etc. Feeling known, cared for, and as most ourselves as possible are valid needs that should be pursued and sought after. I want the brokenness of my heart to be tended to, I want every one of my tears to be valued, I want my thoughts heard, I want the weight of my baggage to be carried and shared by others, etc.
But what if I feel most known when I'm with others singing Mariah Carey ridiculously loud in my car? Dancing barefoot in the kitchen? When I'm bent over, busting-a-gut laughing? High-five-hugging celebrating the things of God? When I'm silent, sharing a cup of Caribou, while reading? Climbing mountains in Estes Park? When I'm sharing a pool raft and Kenny Chesney overpowers any ability to have a conversation? When I'm dressed to the nines in our scarlet & gray, watching the Buckeyes win another BCS bowl game? When I'm silently sharing the view of the sunrise over the Atlantic ocean? When I'm sharing about the hilarity of past experiences?
Of course there are moments when I share about my seemingly ship-wrecked past; the hurts of my soul in a world that ravages; the dreams that could have been but won't ever be; the hopes deferred; the unfulfilled longings, etc....
But...What if it seems my most authentic moments are in my joys and are associated with celebration and laughter?
Does that mean I'm shallow? Maybe.
Does that mean I'm out of touch with reality? Maybe.
Does that mean my heart is deceptive even to myself? Absolutely.
But I think it's when we are most alive that we feel most known. And doesn't God desire life for His people?
In the life He desires for us we will most definitely experience hurt, suffering, and seemingly unending tears that should be shared with dear friends. But to glamorize, fetishize, and idolize authenticity that only plays itself out in brokenness and mess is a dangerous trap. To identify as counterfeit our joys, celebrations, dances, and laughter is to represent life with Christ as down-trodden and without hope. And those are two words I am vehemently opposed to characterizing my life as a follower of Jesus.
Dear Authenticity, may your definition no longer be cheapened by just simply serving as a synonym to brokenness and mess. But may your definition be restored and redeemed to its fullness. May we find it fitting to use you in our brokenness and in our joys.
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