sending a false signal

Satan is a jerkface.

We know that he feasts upon our insecurities, built on lies that he would have us believe. Within our own mess, we often miss the damage that Satan has done in the lives of others; we form false conclusions about our relationships based on our own perceived inadequacies without considering that both parties may be under complementary attack.

Here's one for you: I hate talking on the phone, and I equally despise making plans. I'm not sure if anyone else can relate with this, but I grew up with a dad that frowned upon bringing the outside world into our household. Having people over was a rare event -- my school friends were allowed to come inside less than ten times during my childhood, and I was made to feel like I had done something wrong whenever the phone rang for me.

I still recall receiving a call the summer before 8th grade. Having returned from an incredible week of church camp, some female campers of a neighboring school got my number from a male friend that attended their church. My dad picked up the phone and handed it to me with an intrusive glare, continuing to watch me as I held an awkward conversation with a girl that was interested in me.

Once I got wheels, the social dysfunction ceased, but only because my social base in high school and college was large enough to regularly have plans made by others. I conquered some of my phone anxiety due to my job and my first girlfriend, but I still don't like calling people that I don't know well in person.

Anyway, I don't share this to cast a dark shadow on my childhood -- my dad's issues make a lot of sense in light of what I know about him today. I bring this up because three unrelated friends have asked me in the past two months if I had cut them off because of something they had done.

The prime evidence: I hadn't called them.

It hurt because I know that each of these friends legitimately missed me. They view me as one willing to share spiritual truth, and they value my place in their lives. Worse, I knew that had any of them reached out to spend time with me, I would have accepted the invitation and enjoyed myself.

Each of them assumed a social and spiritual inferiority with me. While this is an unfounded deception, it fed the belief that I was choosing not to be friends with them anymore. I got this in college a lot: the kid who so easily makes friends couldn't possibly be waiting for anyone to call, could he? In my case, I was...I am. There wasn't isn't a pecking order in my mind; my best friends were are those that were are committed to transcending my insecurities by calling me first.

Want to know the crazy thing? I love introverted people. My favorite friends are those that have demonstrated their trust in me, offering the pieces of themselves that they don't often share. The most profound statements are made by those that save their words for important things; the greatest love is found through those that serve without receiving public reward.

Guess who's not calling me anytime soon...

It angers me that healthy relationships are cast with doubt because Satan plays our lies against one another. One solution is being open about my insecurities; the other is working through them. Being open will hopefully deliver some light in the short term, but I can't count on loved ones meeting me halfway. If these relationships mean something to me, I must continue to chip away at the root. As painful as it has been for God to bring this to my attention, He would not if He did not desire me to work through it. Clearly, I will need His strength; as sure as anything, I will be the timid 13-year-old when I make the call.