Growing Up

Over the last several days I have been having conversations with people about my journey. Significant people I trust. Each of these conversations has been a great dialog that has allowed me to process my experience with someone else.

A friend of mine called me back after our conversation to say that he has noticed a significant change in my personality and demeanor. I was, to say, validated. I have been walking through this journey of love with eyes wide open, not sure if anyone has noticed. Some people have said things, others have not. I'm not worried.

But my friend was intrigued by my change. He asked me what had been the catalyst, or reason for the change. I know my mom's death had something to do with it. But this would be limiting to say it was the defining thing. Death does have a way of speaking to us, but I know that it was not the only thing. I believe it was a lot of things.

But one event sticks out in my mind. I was in the shower about six weeks ago when I felt like God was asking to grow up. I'm 38 and I've been studying the faith journey for at least 12 years, if not longer. I was stunned to say the least. As I pondered the question, I realized that it was that time. In order for me to fully mature in love, I had to let go of my wounded identity. I had to let go of who I was. And I did, right there in the shower.

The unique thing about this was that it wasn't hard. Actually I've been processing this for as long as I can remember. But now I was willing to let it go. I think I was just ready.

The funny thing is that when I did, it was awesome. It felt like a rebirth. I liken it to letting go of a thousand pound weight. My burden was light again. I now ask myself why I had waited so long to embrace who I was becoming as a mature person of faith. I guess I was just ready.

My friend shared with me a really great observation. He told me of the story of the blind man at the pool, which I've heard many times.

6When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, "Do you want to get well?" 7"Sir," the invalid replied, "I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me."

My friend made an interesting observation about the blind man. Instead of responding "Yes, I want to get well," which was the question, he makes an excuse. Pow it hit me, upside the head like a knockout punch. How many times have I made excuses rather than just saying, "Yes, I want to get well."

To be honest, the guy reminded me of myself. When it really came to change, I didn't want to. It's easier to live in the identity of wounded person because my wounds provided me with an excuse for my humanity. I was just doing what I was supposed to.

I'm actually glad I made the choice to grow up. I like this place better. I don't want to sit on the mat anymore and make excuses. I want to love. I want to feel his presence in my life, joy, healing, purpose and love. The reality is that these were not prevailing traits of my life before my decision to grow up.

When I turn to my son and I see a four year old boy, I shudder to think of him growing up physically but never maturing beyond four years old. It would crush me if he were stunted in this age, as fun, and charming, and great as it is right now. I want him to grow up and become who God designed him to really be. To live valiantly, to love deeply, to pursue his purpose with passionate resolve. I just don't think he can become this person as a four year old.

It's hard to grow up. Not in a literal sense. Our bodies biological process happens regardless of our choice. I speaking of our maturity of heart. When wounds cripple us, it becomes something that takes courage to really step into. I want that for me, for my son, for those I come in contact with. Why? Because I believe that it is in maturity of heart that we love deeply, which is the fully expression of who we are as humans.

And I want to become that person. Do you?