trumping experience with truth

What I am about to share comes from a vulnerable place in my heart, and I pray that God gives me grace as a write this. I also ask for your grace as a reader, as I am writing these words to be understood, and not so that you might jump to conclusions about our friendship. I acknowledge a stronghold in my life that needs to go. It has been sifted to the surface this week, and I knew that this would be a difficult evening. I've sat down to write this three times. I've tried distracting myself by taking a late-night drive. I even did the dishes. This post refused to leave my mind.

Working in residential, the term self-sabotage is used to describe a phenomenon occurring when an unfamiliar string of success comes in conflict with a fear of failure. Commonly, teenagers nearing the end of their treatment will suddenly become fearful of messing up in a way that will let down themselves and others. As a result, many will "sabotage" their progress so that they can start at the bottom again, having something to work towards that they have already accomplished. To bypass the unknown future, they can repeatedly prolong a program in which they have experienced success, rather than fight the battle on the outside where they have previously experienced failure.

After eating dinner with some friends, Byron and I drove home this evening, and we discussed my own form of self-sabotage. (By discussed, I mean that Byron actively listened while I unloaded.) Allow me to paint the lie at its most extreme, so that I can work my way to less absolute terminology:

You will leave me.

This is the lie at its worst; every other issue in my life stems from it to varying degrees. I expect that everyone I care about -- save my biological family, who are emotionally absent -- will discover something about me that will cause them to drop me from their life. Is this rational? Of course, it isn't. Is it founded upon God's identity or truth? Absolutely not. But it's there all the same, and it directs a good number of my most destructive behaviors. The more I care about you, the greater the danger.

Like any lie, it didn't develop overnight. I didn't wake up one morning expecting to be abandoned. In fact, my childhood was quite stable until high school. My dad rode me pretty hard at times, but it never crossed my mind that he would abandon me -- if anything, there were times I considered leaving myself :-\ The first instance I remember was as a freshman, when my best friend of fifteen years began dating a girl with whom I shared a mutual distaste. It wasn't my place to ask him to choose me, so within a year, I had no place in his life. It happens, right? People move on. They make new friends. I do the same, so what's the big deal?

It has been the ten years since graduating college that a good number of loved ones have abandoned me in short order: usually with little notice or for unexplainable reasons -- always with a lack of communication. Many times I have been left waiting for a reply, only to hear through others that a wedge has been built. I have experienced this with two women I expected to marry and a handful of ministry partners. It has occurred enough to conclude that I am the problem.

But it's difficult for me to reflect upon my experiences objectively. I can assume all of the blame, and draw the conclusion that I am inherently bad, but this does not explain what attracts friends to me in the first place or why other "bad people" have companionship. Even aside from the truth of scripture that defies this lie, I don't believe that I am inherently worse than anyone else. What I do believe is that I experienced some painful separation during a formative time in my life, and I have now learned to self-sabotage whenever my relationships find the depth I desire. Thus, if I wasn't the problem initially, I have led myself to be the problem.

My chief defense mechanism is insecurity. Since I find it emotionally draining to continue assuring a loved one that all is well, I can only assume that my own insecurity leads to a self-fulfilling prophecy. Because I expect you to leave, I require constant assurance that you will not. This constant need for assurance can be the nagging arm that pushes you from my life. Inevitably, your word is of little value to the lie anyway, since multiple people aware of my past have promised not to leave -- without prompting -- and have done so anyway. The physical evidence is strong for my pattern of behavior.

This is where I feel stuck. I know exactly what I do, and have a pretty solid understanding as to why. People genuinely care about me, and then they don't. This is the experiential data that doesn't line up with what God says, nor with how He has called me to lead. But the disconnect between God's truth and my experience leaves me in utter confusion. I need your help. I don't need the assurance that you'll never leave -- this is nothing more than empty speech to me. I need your intercession, your words of truth, and a careful handling of my heart. I need to unveil the parent root of my insecurity so that I can stand firm in His truth.

I need you to persist while I journey through my pain. God knows that I'm doing the same for all of you. I know that I'm generally expected to be the strong one, but please, can you help?

During my drive, I was sifting through the Jars marathon in my CD changer, and was moved to tears by these familiar words:

Convinced of my deception, I've always been a fool
I fear this love reaction just like you said I would
A rose could never lie about the love it brings
And I could never promise to be any of those things

If I was not so weak
If I was not so cold
If I was not so scared of being broken, growing old
I would be, I would be

Blessed are the shallow -- depth they'll never find
Seems to be some comfort, in rooms I try to hide
Exposed beyond the shadows, You take the cup from me
Your dirt removes my blindness; Your pain becomes my peace

If I was not so weak
If I was not so cold
If I was not so scared of being broken, growing old
I would be, I would be
I would be, I would be
Frail.