Lent, Days Fifteen, Sixteen & Seventeen: Shape
I know it’s strange to say that I want to give up “self-hatred” for Lent (sounds akin to a child saying they are giving up broccoli for Lent). But it feels legit, because of how precious my self-hatred is to me. Strange as that sounds, it fuels the illusion that I am actually self-protecting and in control: I don’t have to humble myself with the practice of trust, or with apology, as long as I keep myself buttoned up, under tight reign, and don’t want too much, do too much, expect too much.
My self-hatred is like a self-inflicted wound kept fresh in order to ensure a safe distance from things. It keeps me on the sidelines—“you can’t put me in, Coach—sorry!”—but it makes me look like I’m involved in the game, ready to “go in” at any moment! It’s all a ruse to protect myself. It’s not because I’m unwilling to be or do more–it’s more like, I don’t believe I have anything valuable to offer people, and I’m terrified of that being found out.
“You have to stay out of the game. You aren’t strong, smart, sympathetic, beautiful, learned, humble, authentic, brave, true, compassionate, gifted etc. enough to be a valuable player. If you try, you will be found out as a fraud right away. You can’t survive that kind of rejection. If you aren’t loved here, it’s proof that you aren’t loved up there.”
What would it be like to actually dump this narrative? What else is there? Any other way feels like conjuring something from nothing—a magic trick underneath which is nothing tangible. Could I speak love for myself and actually mean it? Could I actually, effectively, give up my self-hatred for Lent and practice self-love in its stead—just to try it on for a bit?
What’s the opposite of “not enough” (as day 15’s stone said)? The opposite of “my limitations” (day 16)? The opposite of wanting to be “any shape but mine” (today’s Lenten stone).
Being true to my shape. Staying within the bounds I’ve been made to have—so that I’m neither shriveled up (folds of myself overlapping like a discarded blanket), showing where the essence of me should be flowing; nor distorted by stretching, ballooning my shape too far past its bounds. Instead, filling out the shape I’ve been made to fill. I’ve written about this before, but it brings me back to the definition of the Hebrew word for humility: “occupy our God-given space in the world”. Something shriveled up is not nutritious or satisfying. Something bloated has no flavor at all. Could I rejoice in, live in, be my actual shape?
Giving up self-hatred for Lent might be just that: finding the true edges of my form and filling it out well, like a tailored garment. Not shrinking because I don’t believe I deserve love and I’m afraid if I am seen, I will be rejected. Not over-expanding to a manufactured exterior because I don’t believe I deserve love unless I become what people find acceptable. My whole way of being is so disorienting! I’m caught in a whip-lash effect, with the real me not daring to be as big as I am, and the false me too big, inaccurate to reality.
I want the real me to fill out my shape well, and the false me to be untethered and released into the air like a bag of hot wind, which it already is. I want to love the shape that I am, and believe that it was meant for a divine reason. Maybe if I can believe in the beauty of my own shape, I can also truly believe in others’ shapes as well, and genuinely advocate for people to live into that shape, rejoicing when they find it or when they are boldly filling it.
I think we might have to value our own shape before we can value others’ shapes. I wonder if (going back, once again, to preceding Lenten posts…) this is yet another way of stating that hatred for self is a central source of anger and bad behavior for people–despising yourself leads to (not just looking like, but) actively despising others.
Maybe I shouldn’t need this, but that’s helpful motivation for me: loving others is an extremely important passion of mine. How well am I actually doing it, if I’m neglecting love for myself? So, I’m giving up self-hatred for Lent. Just for Lent. I can always pick it back up later, right? If I really want to. For now, I want to be curious: is there an angle I’m not seeing? A beauty to my shape I haven’t yet seen?
Father, today I give what I can, which is timid experimentation with self-love. Will you hold onto my self-hatred for me, just for a little bit? I want to believe that I can burn it away forever, but that belief is not strong in me, yet–it’s just a tiny ember. Today, my act of love is sheltering that ember, giving it a little oxygen, spending a little time gentling its light a smidgen brighter. I want this change in me to be real, and lasting. Help me, Good Lord. Help me, Lover of Souls. Help me, Maker of Me. May my eyes see my true shape amid all the false lines that lie about who I am or should be. May I use this fast from self-hatred to coax the fire of me strong: not raging, but roaring; not harmful, but healthy; bringing illumination and warmth into the world around me in the way I was always meant to brightly burn.
