i'm still not sure about this one

I meet new people all the time. And there's often a point in the conversation that goes something like this:

OPTION A Them: Where are you from? Me: New York. Them: How'd you end up in Atlanta? Me: Well...

OPTION B Them: What do you do? Me: I'm the founder of a ministry in Africa. Them: Oh wow. What are you doing in Atlanta? Me: Well...

OPTION C A variation of A or B.

And then I have to try to follow the "Well..." with some sort of explanation.

It's got me thinking about the words I use to sum up my current life situation.

I'm short and sweet and to the point. I certainly don't unload my two-and-a-half-year heartache on them.

I don't answer with bitterness or anger or resentment. There is sadness in my words, for sure. There's grief in my eyes.

And I simply state the facts.

But now I'm wondering if I still say more than I actually should.

My six-sentence answer usually includes:

1. I've been married for 9 years.
2. My husband and I ran a ministry in Africa.
3. He had an affair.
4. He decided he wants a divorce.
5. I'm living in Georgia for a season of restoration.
6. I'll be going back to Africa.

And all of that is true.

But I wonder if I'm hiding behind #s 3 and 4. Because I feel like I have to mention the affair and point out that he left me.

But I wonder what my motive is.

My unconscious thought in that moment is that simply saying I'm going through a divorce leaves the question of why. And they might think I cheated. Or assume I'm the one who chose to leave.

So I seemingly take on a defensive position right from the get-go. I fight to maintain my image right from the start.

And maybe I shouldn't.

Isn't that just plain ol' ugly arrogance? Or at the very least, insecurity?

The fact that I am the head of a ministry adds to the complexity of this for me. I don't want people to wonder who left who when I'm asking them to trust me to lead Thrive.

But maybe I need to let truth speak for itself.

And let God defend me.

Right from the get-go.

I don't know. I'm still trying to figure this one out.

coffee talk: authenticity & faith

As I wrestle with the risk of being more authentic, I'm struggling to find the line between authenticity and faith. I grew up in churches filled with happy, plastic Christians.

They answer "How are you?" with "I'm blessed!"

They don't admit to being sick even when they are, saying instead that they are "healed in Jesus' Name!"

And though I can't judge their hearts, it always seems more fake than faith.

It seems like denial.

And hypocrisy.

The implication is that if things aren't going well with you, it's because your faith just isn't strong enough.

And that's crap.

But things can get out of balance the other way as well.

Under the banner of authenticity, a lot of people are just plain negative.

They complain. A lot.

They're always responding to "How are you?" with far too much information. They let it all hang out, even at times when they "shouldn't".

And they just chalk it up to being real.

So how do we balance faith and authenticity?

When is it time to be honest about where you're at and when is it time to speak words of faith?

Talk amongst yourselves.

authenticity isn't found in the rearview mirror

I’ve often prided myself in my ability to share openly about things I've gone through, things I've struggled with. But then I realized it was only because they were past tense. I am being open and honest, but about my then, not my now.

It's easier to share my weaknesses after I've strengthened them. It's safer to talk about my failures once I've bounced back from them.

But it's not really authenticity if it's after the fact.

Genuine authenticity is transparent and unguarded and vulnerable.

And while there is some level of that in sharing about past struggles, nothing is quite as authentic as sharing about current struggles.

No matter what else I do in this year of risking more, nothing will be as hard as the risks I take with my heart.

But they are risks I want to take.

I desire the intimacy and closeness that comes with true authenticity. I crave the matchless relational connection that's borne out of putting my heart on the line.

Even though it leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

I'm learning that with those I trust, I can be naked and unashamed.

So I'm stripping down and working on being more authentic in the moment.

And hoping the "unashamed" part will follow.

risky business

I'm not the most daring person. I tend to lean toward comfortable and familiar rather than new and exciting. I usually order the same favorite meal anywhere I eat. I even describe myself as an "indoor girl".

I have done some things in my life that were adventurous. I whitewater-rafted the Zambezi. I zip-lined through an Alaskan rain forest. I pulled the cord on a bungee swing in Cape Town. I ate grub worms. (Okay, maybe that's not exactly adventurous. But it is pretty wild!)

And my bucket list includes a few more daring things I'd like to someday accomplish. But in general, I don't think many would describe me as a thrill-seeker.

So choosing to focus on risk this year feels, well, risky. Which, I suppose, was the whole point.

My choice to risk is all about active trust. I'm being intentional to trust God, others, and myself more.

I've already told you that I doubt myself more than I ever have before. But I have the Holy Spirit who guides me into all truth living inside me. I want to live like I actually believe that's true. I will get it wrong sometimes, this I know for sure. But I choose to trust the power of Christ in me and the discernment God's given me. And that can't happen without risk.

I know that trustworthy people will still, at times, betray my trust. Even the best of friends will hurt me. But I still want to risk more in trusting them. I desire to know others intimately and be known by them in that same way. And that can't happen without risk.

Trusting God more means exercising my mustard-seed-sized dollop of faith more than I have been. I want to actively rely on Him for strength and wisdom. I want to see Him work through me in greater ways than He has before. I want to trust Him to answer the silent prayers of my heart for the changes I desire in my own life. And none of that can happen without risk.

So I've decided to risk this year.

It's definitely gonna kick me in the pants in my relationships. And it's going to carry a lot of weight whenever I'm faced with a decision. And I've started praying for it, which is a risk in itself.

Trust is the Achilles' heel of my life, my very own thorn in the flesh. But I'm stepping into the ring by making the decision to risk more.

It's gonna make this year a whole different kind of hard.

But, once again, I choose the hard.

'Cause I'm risky like that.

Why did you choose your word for 2010? What are you doing to focus on it?

...and it scares the crap out of me

If you've been around the Grit for any length of time, you know that trust has always been a struggle for me. A struggle I've continued to wrestle with, though, because I know it's worth the fight. Now throw my husband's unfaithfulness into the mix and give it a good shake. Trust is really hard for me right now, at a very core and basic level.

I'm finding it harder than ever to trust others and even God. But the uncertainty runs deeper than that.

I no longer trust myself.

For a year and a half, I was told that my gut instinct was wrong.  It was said over and over and over again that what I knew to be true, wasn't.

Eventually truth was exposed. And even though I had been right all along, any final remnants of confidence had already been evicted from my heart and self-doubt had set up camp.

And now I'm left doubting my intuition. I distrust my ability to perceive what's going on beneath the surface.

The line between discernment and paranoia is blurry. When I sense something is wrong or just "off", I make myself sick wondering if what I'm feeling is valid or if I'm just being hypersensitive.

And I'm not quite sure what to do with that.

I need to learn to trust myself again.

But I don't know how.