my heart is good

My favorite movie quote ever:

Y'all got on this boat for different reasons, but y'all come to the same place. So now I'm asking more of you than I have before. Maybe all. Sure as I know anything, I know this: they will try again. Maybe on another world, maybe on this very ground swept clean. A year from now, ten? They'll swing back to the belief that they can make people...better. And I do not hold to that. So no more runnin'. I aim to misbehave.

--Capt. Malcolm Reynolds, Serenity

As I drove through the wonderful autumn breeze, I was pondering something discussed with a friend this evening. I confessed how much I disliked being praised for delivering a message or doing something for my teens -- it was the same people that acted shell-shocked when I admitted my doubt, confusion, or ignorance. When I wanted to be honest and bring a personal lie to light, those who raised me on a pedestal would offer a word of rebuke rather than truth. I let it get to me.

A tender wound was exposed through the confident response of my friend: "I enjoy disappointing people."

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Ever since I can remember, I have let people down. I talked when I was supposed to be quiet. I didn't do my homework. I fell short of straight A's. My brother worked harder than I did -- at everything. I filmed an inappropriate movie in Spanish class. I was suspended from church camp. I stole my high school sweetheart's first kiss (and broke her heart). I failed an education course I could pass in my sleep. I let teenagers yell at 6AM -- and they woke up adults. I wasn't compassionate with my youth group. I never planted that church in Kansas City...

The sentence that best defines my maturation from parents, teachers, and church leaders: "Anthony is not living up to his potential."

I see how this has shaped my adulthood. After years of falling short, I have done everything in my power not to disappoint. I've worked hard, given every minute of my time, and been my own worst critic. Somewhere along the way, I learned to despise myself. I decided that if I treated my relationships perfectly, that my friends, family, and beloved would show me love.

But perfect was never good enough. I still disappoint. I still beat myself up over every failure. I acknowledge the grace of God, but refuse to excuse my shortcomings. This is at the heart of my insecurity: if I cannot live according to my own standard of living, how can I be good enough for someone else to love? How can I be good enough for God?

I'll be honest, most authorities are pleased with my aim for perfection. My employers love my work ethic. My dad accepts me like never before. My past educators speak highly of me.

I've grown bored with the gentleman they created.

In the YA novel Dicey's Song, the title character's younger brother Sammy adjusts to a new living arrangement by being better, believing that his rambunctious attitude contributed to the estrangement from their sick mother. He begins to act meek and mild at school, and is praised for his behavior at teacher's conference. However, while his family is going through a hard adjustment, he begins to follow the demands of the school bully to keep the peace. Only when his original identity is encouraged and restored, is he able to stand up for his family according to the stronger convictions in his heart.

There is still a piece of me bottled up inside this heart. It manifests in prose and prophetic word, but in my flesh, I have lost the childlike wonder and authenticity that confounded so many. The wilder, creative elements of my being have been muzzled and pacified by my failure to disappoint.

Inevitably, it is this heart that God desires to restore, and this heart that was created for His purposes. Under the scar tissue is the kid wrestling to the front of the yearbook picture. Behind the pain is the joyful spelling bee champ that refused to do his spelling notebook -- the very next day. There is a beautiful, imaginative, and reckless heart that cares more for his convictions than the world's expectations. It doesn't want to be better. It wants to be good.