Taking off the Cape

I’m not superwoman. As much as I like to pretend, I’m not. At the end of the day, I’m human and I’m flawed and I’m quite a bit of a mess, but I think, maybe, that’s okay.

I’ve been facing several trials lately, all compounded into one theme: I have limits, and my pride keeps me in denial of them.

This is going to be hard for me to write because I can’t write what I’m going to without feeling a sense of shame. That’s my pride again. There are likely to be tears also, and I know that might seem strange to some, but this topic runs deep for me. It runs through every level of who I am, straight down to my character.

When I wasn’t even five years old, I was told I was “smart.” It was like a label someone stuck on my forehead that I would have to live with from Pre-Kindergarten on, and that label left a residue that I still feel, still try to scratch at. Labels identify things, they set out certain expectations of what a thing is and what it should be able to do. The “smart label” is no different. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t feel like I had to constantly prove that label belonged on me. In the end, I don’t think I’m especially intelligent. I’m simply stubborn, and stubbornness can account for a lot.

I can’t really blame the way I am only on the expectations of others. It’s my personality too. It’s my desire to be accepted and my desperate need to be “good enough.”

I suppose now I should explain what I mean by “the way I am.” I have a tendency to overload myself. I’m often told I overdo things. When faced with two options, I won’t pick the more logical one, I’ll pick the more difficult one. My justification is that making things harder for myself will build my character and make me a better person in the end.

Do you see the basic flaw? I’m going to pretend I don’t just for a little bit longer, at least until the end of this discourse.

My most recent predicament is that I’m trying to work a full-time job (plus overtime), train for a 26-mile marathon, do three courses at Living University, and be a good Christian to my family, friends, and church. Lately my prayers have begun and ended with “help”, without very much in between. I’m that kind of desperate and that kind of prayer-blocked.

I have a knee injury that’s threatening to destroy my marathon goals and I’m finding myself completely unable to keep up with my Living University course load. I’m trying to do too much and something’s gotta give, but I just don’t want to let go. I don’t want to feel like a quitter and I don’t want to give up. So I’ve been telling myself that I’m simply pushing myself like God would want me to. I’ve been telling myself that even though I can barely walk some mornings and I barely have time to catch a few hours of sleep some nights, that I’m simply giving God the chance to intervene and carry me through.

Maybe that would be true if I weren’t me. But remember, I’m the one who likes to pretend I’m superwoman.

For about a week, I’ve been considering dropping a Living University course. It’s gotten to the point where I’m simply trying to get my assignments done as quickly as possible, without considering the content at all. I’m trying to remind myself why I started Living University in the first place. I was to learn and to grow. It was to invigorate my bible study and my relationship with God. It was to stir me up so that I can serve others better. …Right?

Today I read on the Living University website that the date for withdrawing from a class had passed. That doesn’t mean that I can’t still drop a course, but it does mean that I won’t get refunded (which I don’t care about) and that I’ll get a “W” on my transcript (which I do care about). And suddenly, I couldn’t fathom dropping. A “withdrawal” on my transcript? That would be failure, wouldn’t it? That would be giving up…

And it hit me. I was in denial again. Yes, I started Living University because I wanted to learn and grow, but how I approached my course schedule was motivated by something else. When I was faced with the choices of degrees to pursue, I picked the bachelor’s degree because that would be the hardest. Even though I never intend to use such a degree, I wanted it. Why should I care if there is a “withdrawal” on a transcript I’ll never use?

My “smart label” is itching. This is all a matter of pride. I’m at Living University to learn and grow spiritually. I can’t do that if I don’t have the time to focus on the classes I’m taking. I can’t do that if I’m using all the tricks I know (and I learned a bunch in engineering school) just to get assignments done as quickly and efficiently as possible. God wants quality, not quantity. Gideon’s army was only 300 strong. The apostles were only 12. Our current church ministry is terrifyingly tiny.

“Thus I fight: not as one who beats the air. (1 Corinthians 9:26)” I’ve often used that as one of my inspiration scriptures for running because when a runner gets tired, they beat at the air. I always thought that Paul meant you should never let yourself tire. But now I don’t think that’s quite the whole story. Maybe it also means that you need to pick your battles. I can’t keep punching at every shadow I see. God’s example is that He is careful, particular, and patient. A few scriptures before, in 1 Corinthians 9:25, Paul says, “And everyone who competes for the prize is temperate in all things.” Doesn’t temperate mean moderate? Avoiding extremes?

I have a bad habit of making absolutes. I come up with these equations in my mind and try to apply them to every aspect of my life. One of these equations is: more = better. The more I try to do, the better a person I’ll be.

So here it comes… more Living University classes does NOT equal better. I’m not doing the quality of work that I think God expects of me. I’m not putting my hand to each of my classes with all my might. As terrifying as it is, I need to cut back. The class I drop will be there next year. I can take it then and learn more from it because I will have the time.

And in the meantime, I will free myself from my strict regiment of work, exercise and school. I’ll allow myself the time I need to focus on developing my relationships with people in the church. You know, I was thinking about something earlier today while I was running. There aren’t many things you can take with you from this world, but there are two that I can think of. Your relationship with God and your relationships with other people. That’s lasting. I can gain all the bible knowledge in the world, but if I don’t apply it by fellowshipping with others, I’ll never learn a thing.

I can’t build my own character by choosing my own trials. That’s presumptuous and probably a little insulting to God. I can challenge myself, and I think that’s good, but my attitude has to be right and my trust has to be in the right place. God wants peace and balance. He didn’t create a world of all mountains or all forests or all water. He didn’t create a bible of all law or all parables or all sermons. There are beautiful literary works like Song of Solomon and Psalms and emotional personal commentaries like Ecclesiastes and Lamentations. Everything has a season. Everything has a time.

Am I less of a person if my transcript has a “withdrawal” on it? I can’t take my transcript to the Kingdom with me.

I talk big, but this still hurts. It tears at me and makes me feel a little sick. Dropping that class will be terribly difficult. Dropping that class will be like taking my superwoman cape off and falling on my knees before God.

I took a pottery class once. I enjoyed it, but I wasn’t extraordinarily good at it. God’s the Master Potter. I need to let Him do the shaping.