Being cool is pretty important in our culture.
I can be wonderfully cool in some moments and at other times, I seem to be the antithesis of anything buzz-worthy.
But one of the glorious things that has been happening the last few years as I’ve gotten older is that I’m getting more and more comfortable with exactly who I am, cool or not.
When I started working at RELEVANT, I was initially intimidated by the level of cool in the office. (This may or may not have been related to the average age of employee at the company. I’ll give you a hint: It ain’t 36.) I tried to reach that coolness level and only made it about a week before I lost interest.
We were all out to lunch one day and still getting to know each other. I decided to settle it once and for all, right there at the beginning of these new friendships.
“Hey everybody. I need to tell you something. This is important. I am not cool. I’m just not. I will never be cool. And I don’t care. I’m not even gonna try. This is just the way it is, okay?”
One of my precious new coworkers sheepishly offered, “Um, Lindsey? The fact that you just said that actually makes you kind of…cool.”
Well, there you have it. Publicly declaring my uncoolness made me cool. Figure that one out.
Caroline recently got her first taste of being publicly declared uncool and it wasn’t pretty. It was Pajama Day at their school. Sydney and one of her friends decided to wear onesies. Well, when Caroline saw THAT was a cool option, she did the same. Brad took pictures of the three of them in their onesies and they went on their way, the two older girls to middle school and Caroline to elementary school. The idea had been vetted by two 13 year olds. It was a guaranteed win.
Well, third graders haven’t gotten the memo yet that being purposely uncool is actually cool. Caroline walks into the gym in her onesie (WITHOUT her teenage cohorts) and one of her little turd classmates started making fun of her. ‘The whole gym’ laughed and her friends failed to rally to her defense. (Most third graders also haven’t yet learned to stick up for each other in the face of turds.)
She bluffed not caring, then quietly took off her onesie on the way to class and wore regular pajamas the rest of the day.
She tearfully relayed the story when she got home. Brad and I worked hard to convince her that the only reason he did that was to try to make himself look cool, but she found little solace in that. She was publicly shamed by a peer and abandoned by her friends, the latter being the most painful by far.
And I’m not sure which broke my heart more: That she was made fun of or that she let some stupid little punk make her question herself and abandon the cool, brave thing she was doing.
She came upstairs later that evening and I decided it was time for a pep talk. “Caroline, here’s the deal: If you ever do anything brave and cool, people are going to pick on you. They just will. Anything that’s different is a target and it will be that way the rest of your life.”
She began to protest and I interrupted her. “I know it’s not fair. I know it’s not, but that’s just the way it is. Look at this.”
I pointed to a specific quote on the bulletin board next to my Inspiration Station (my spot on the couch where I write every morning). The quote is by American writer Elbert Hubbard and it says, “To avoid criticism, do nothing, say nothing, and be nothing.”
Caroline scowled in frustration. “But then NObody would ever do ANYthing,” she whined.
“Exactly! So if you’re gonna do ANYthing at all (which I’m sorry, but you just have to), just know you’re gonna get picked on. The only guaranteed way to avoid criticism is to do nothing. And that’s just not an option.”
The light started to come on. “No, I’m gonna do something,” she informed me with hesitant determination.
Then I whipped out the Teddy Roosevelt quote recently made famous by Brene Brown, Cadillac and Mark Richt.
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
“That’s you,” I informed her. “You dare greatly. Critics are wimps. They’re louder and meaner. But they’re cowards. YOU are in the ARENA.”
I know that sounds awfully dramatic for a third-grade Pajama-Day mishap. But this felt like I really important opportunity for a really important lesson. I figured if I planted the seed on Pajama Day, then by the time she hits a major speed bump (and she will, God help us), maybe that tree will have put down some roots.
We also made the Jesus connection: How He was doing something brave and cool, ended up being humiliated by His peers and abandoned by His friends. (A few minor differences: He was GOD and He was KILLED. But I was focusing on the similarities so she would know that He knew how she felt.)
I got her settled in bed and trudged up the stairs, and God started doing that thing He does. You know, when the words you say to your child end up being the words He’s saying to YOU. Yeah, that thing.
If you ever do anything brave and cool, people are going to pick on you. They just will. Anything that’s different is a target and it will be that way the rest of your life.
So if you are going do ANYthing at all (which I have ordained for you to do), just know you will be criticized. The only guaranteed way to avoid criticism is to do nothing. And that’s just not an option for you, My child.
That’s you. You dare greatly. Critics are louder and meaner. But they’re cowards. YOU are in the ARENA.
Caroline comes by it honestly. I am a Grade A, Level One, Jedi Master people pleaser. The arena I fight in is full of family and friends cheering encouragement and support. I’ve gotten a little sweaty and dusty on occasion. But my blood has never been shed in a battle of great consequence.
But I know that someday my King will call me into a fight that will cost me a lot more. And I’d be lying if I said I was eagerly awaiting that opportunity.
I like contending against discouragement, depression and purposelessness from my comfy Inspiration Station with my laptop as my only weapon.
But there are real dragons out there: abortion, human trafficking, poverty, racism, homelessness. I keep my sword of the Spirit sharpened and ready. Sometimes I swing it around for practice. But I haven’t really taken on any great opponent. Yet. (Although I do piss Satan off on occasion and that’s really fun. Until he gets me back, of course. Then it sucks.)
Christmas and the end of the year bring multiple opportunities to give. There are angel trees in many public places. Organizations on the frontlines are requesting donations. The Salvation Army buckets and bell ringers are outside Publix. Operation Christmas Child is in full swing. Schools are asking for food donations to send home with their needy students over Christmas break.
These are all wonderful ways to prime the pump. Small gestures like these can make huge differences in the lives of others. They also begin to tune my heart to sing His grace.
I have no idea what 2016 will bring. But chances are good that God will call me into new arena with a real opponent. And the enemy I will face will be a familiar one. It’s the people-pleasing version of myself. Yep, she has to die
She’s been a part of me my whole life. But God says that she slows me down and gets in His way. I’ve been slowly starving her out but one day soon, He’s going to give me the signal from the stands that it’s time to finish her off. Not until she’s gone will I be ready to do real battle for the Kingdom.
While Jesus experienced the very real pain of rejection, He never let the whims of the crowd distract Him from His purpose. He tells the disciples (and us) straight up in John 15, “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you.”
Paul also lived unburdened by the need to please. His words to the Galatians haunt me, “Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ.”
The world will never run out of haters. Nor will it ever be short of battles to be fought.
And someday I’ll have the guts to suit up in my onesie, wield my sword and spill a little blood for the God who spilled His blood for me.
