Jello on the Wall...Honest Reactions

Jello on the Wall

My new motto is forming: Honest flaws for honest growth. I’ve been learning a lot about honesty, and how many places in my life are coated with its antithesis. I’m not talking about outright lies, but a subtle, acceptable, an even likable tendency to read a situation and react in the most acceptable way possible in the culture I am in. It stems from a need to be liked, accepted, even an illusion of perfection or politeness. Sometimes I call it self-control; sometimes consideration. When I make decisions, it’s hard to think through the muck of intentions. But I’m learning that if I can strip away the coating of likableness in my heart, then I am given the clarity that enables growth. I can face the fear or anger in the pit of my stomach and instead of covering it up, I can look intently into its face and choose what to do, rather than react out of fear or insecurity. Honest selfishness is a better starting point for growth than white-washed cultural fluency. Like a radio that hones into the right frequency, honesty brings clarity to the Holy Spirit’s voice. The message hasn’t changed, but I can hear it, and it sounds more and more beautiful the closer my dial comes to the source.

My life is full of opportunities to react with cultural nicety, or with honest reaction. Once we reach a place of honesty, hopefully we will stop reacting and begin responding with the Holy Spirit’s prodding to show true and honest love when we are wronged, irritated or insulted.

This week has been particularly full of memories and current moments of what God is teaching me about honesty. In my daily routine of taking care of small children, my mind often wanders to my mother. Memories flash across my mind when I smell the baby lotion or hear a certain inflection in my own voice. It’s like she’s talking through the years through my very own voice. Most recently, my reverie brought me back to a moment when I was three years old, wanting so desperately to be a big helper on grocery shopping day. My mom allowed me for the first time to take the plastic gallon jug of milk from the car, up the stairs, through the living room, and then, with my cold hands slipping on the condensation and my little arms aching from the load, less than 2 feet from the lanolium kitchen floor, I dropped it. The plastic cracked and I saw a gallon of white liquid squirt out. Glug, glug, glug, I saw 8 pounds of milk seep into the carpet and saturate its way into the padding and down to the floorboard beneath. I cried. Not out of fear, but of failure. I looked up and there she was, the most beautiful woman in the world, (of course), blond curls framing a tender look. It was ok.

I wonder if I could be that calm. I think of the moment when I looked out at my 16 month old in the yard. We made eye contact, and she pulled the sausage of dried dog poop out of her mouth and offered it to me. I wasn’t that calm. I scooped her up and ran her upstairs to the sink as fast as I could, rinsing her mouth out and sanitizing her hands.

I think of the moment when I spent precious time finding and printing a picture out of the computer to use for a party game and brought it into the room. Proudly, I leaned down to show the younger two kids the picture and they grabbed it and crumpled it in delight. When I finally pried it out of the baby’s hand, seeing it was useless, I crumpled it in frustration and threw it in the garbage.

There are times when I’ve made conscious choices to act a certain way regardless of my feelings. Wet beds at night are one of those. As a chronic bed wetter, I had the benefit of a wonderful example in my mom. When I awoke in the night to cold, clingy sheets and a sharp smell, I never felt shame or fear. She quietly and lovingly replaced the sheets and tucked me in. I try to respond that way, remembering how much that experience convinced me of her love.

But how do I know my mother’s extreme patience in those moments was not a carefully planned stoicism…a detachment from the reality of little children? I know because of her honest reactions, and willingness to allow us to see her weaknesses. I remember one time, mom was on the phone and something upset her so badly that she took the bowl of Jello she was working on, and threw it against the wall. I walked into the room to see the remains of the sweet gelatin creeping down the wall leaving a red stain behind, and saw a mother who had just had an honest release. She always thought we teased her about the Jello on the wall because we liked to torture her. I know it was because that one, rare moment of human frailty solidified the honesty of all the moments of patient love she gave to us.

When we don’t live honestly, we begin to die inside. We look around for how we should act to be accepted. We crave approval. Without honesty, we begin to lose sight of what is real. We don’t have our identity in Christ, and we begin to not even know who we are anymore. We get hurt when our efforts don’t gain for us the fulfillment we are looking for, and we carry grudges of hurt and pain.

When I live in this mindset, I feel dead inside. All this trying to make people around me happy saps my energy, and leaves nothing left to grow in Christ. I can’t hear God’s voice because I’m listening to all these other voices around me…voices of expectation, service, and duty. I can’t hear what God is asking me to do today.

I wonder if this was the problem with the Pharisees and the teachers of the law. Jesus called them white-washed tombs, full of dead men’s bones and everything unclean.

Matthew 23:27 (New International Version)
27"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead men's bones and everything unclean.

The problem with honesty is that it opens you up to judgement from other people, and that can be painful. No wonder Jesus talks so strongly about judgement.
Matthew 7:1-3 (New International Version)

Judging Others
1"Do not judge, or you too will be judged. 2For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.
3"Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?

That’s also why it is so important to have our identity in Christ. If who we are is not dependent on what anyone else thinks of us, then we are not vulnerable. We are protected by a perfect love that casts out all fear.

1 John 4:18 (New International Version)
18There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.

It’s fun to take a truth and look into a world where it is played out as the rule rather than the exception. What if we taught our children to be honest with themselves and others? What if we praised them for honest growth rather than what looks good on the outside? Would our relationships be healthier? Could we move forward in love without fear? It would be ok to say, “That hurts” or “I don’t want to.” Would we be hurt less often and heal more quickly?

Speaking the truth in love is difficult. Today my daughter looked out the window and announced that the neighbor children were smashing mushrooms in the front yard. I felt the anger well up, and I took a deep breath. I wanted to do the right thing, so I prayed. Then I opened the front door to see smashed and broken mushrooms and a flattened flowerbed. The huge mushrooms that fascinated me the morning before littered the front steps. The old me would have reacted very differently. I would have gone outside, and quietly cleaned up the mess without saying a word, knowing that if I said anything, I would feel guilty later. Instead, I called over to the children and asked them if they had plans to clean up the mess. I didn’t yell, I simply asked them to take responsibility, and they rose to the calling. I did not get an apology, but they knew I was not happy, and there was no yelling necessary. Hopefully, future mushrooms will be saved from certain demise.

Ephesians 4:14-16 (New International Version)
14Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of men in their deceitful scheming. 15Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ. 16From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.

It is neat to see how what you learn as a parent changes what you teach your kids. I used to believe a good goal was to teach kids how to act to be acceptable. The “pleases,” “thank-you’s” and “I’m sorry’s” were to keep the peace, not to teach a moral and relational lesson. Teaching them a polite tone was to avoid having them in time-out at school, not about respect. Now I see that it’s more important to teach them the reason behind the “I forgive you” than to get them to say it through clenched teeth. I would much rather see an honest grudge in my child, than one suppressed, because honesty is easier to work with than a cover-up. I still believe we should teach kids politeness, but always on a foundation of honesty with the goal of bringing them along a path of understanding about respecting others, repentance, and forgiveness.

Teaching kids to be honest with themselves and others equips them to form honest and healthy relationships with genuine affection, without a need to hint to get their needs across. Built on a foundation of honesty, their relationships can be secure.

On my daughter’s birthday, her little brother could not be convinced that it was not his special day. He kept insisting all day that it was his “Dirtday.” All day, my daughter reinforced that it was her birthday and his would come another day, but he could not be convinced. When it came to present time, there was a gift for him too. None of us knew how she would react, since transparency is a strong trait in her. When the gifts were open, she leaned over to her brother and said, “I’m glad you got those trains.” Nobody was watching, she just had an honest moment of generosity. The next day, he sat alone at the kitchen table with a leftover piece of cake on a pony plate and happily sang, “Happy Dirtday, Dear Sister, Happy Dirtday to You.” Honest love in relationship.

After the kids finished cleaning up the big pieces of mushroom, I swept up the remnants. Looking down, I saw what was left of another set of neighbor children’s chalk drawing. A set of arrows went down the stairs, across the sidewalk and up to their home where there was a birthday wish for my daughter written on the driveway; an honest chalk path of friendship.

Life is not a finished article, it’s a work in process, with spelling errors, fragments, and jumbled thoughts, moving along the page as the thoughts pour out. If we stand back, watching from afar, we may gain head-knowledge of what works and doesn’t work, but we don’t increase our skill at living. We have to get out there and make the hard mistakes. We have to wade our way through the muck of this world in order to make any progress. And we have to be honest to grow.