In John Eldredge's "The Way of the Wild Heart," he makes this curious observation:
"I can't think of a young couple whom I've either married or become acquainted with early in their marriage where the young man did not find himself suddenly and often deeply in a battle for his wife. And these are good people, quality young men and women who love God. The great surprise is that she is broken. Often her brokenness will remain hidden until she becomes engaged, or married, and then wham--it all comes out. Why is that? You'd think that now that she is safe, now that she knows she's loved, she would be in a better place. But that's just it--now that she is safe and loved, her soul can quit pushing it all down. Before she is pursued and wanted, she fears that she cannot be herself or no man will want her. Now that she is loved, her heart comes forth and with it the sorrow of her life."
John Eldredge, man. He really gets it.
Incidentally, I wonder when it'll be okay for the Church to start teaching on Biblical Masculinity and Femininity again. I think everyone's squeamish to try it ever since the Purity Culture movement. But today I'd like to zero in on the concept Eldredge was explaining:
"The great surprise is that she is broken."
I don't have any personal experience to relate here, but I've picked up on it in the culture. I've seen this in young bucks, real or parodied, who commit to a girl and brag on her to their friends.
"Dude, I'm dating this girl, and she's like, awesome! She's actually chill! I know! I couldn't believe it either, but she's like smart and chill! There's no drama at all!"
And then the first time she cries in front of him he's completely taken aback. Maybe she had a spat with her family, or her best friend blew her off, or she had a hard day at work, maybe someone close to her is in the hospital, or maybe just the quiet despair of everyday life that's been building on her shoulders for the past seven weeks just suddenly brims over at the tiniest provocation. She starts crying, and the boy does not understand why. He's wrong-footed and awkward and doesn't know how to respond.
I'm trying to see it from his perspective, too. Guys don't connect the dots as quickly between our steps of reasoning, and hey, I understand the frustration of seeing a problem and not having the tools to solve it. To them, I'm sure it sounds bizarre when we get mad at their attempts to fix what's wrong. Communication on both sides is needed in such situations. The lady will need to patiently explain her line of reasoning and/or more of the contributing factors that led to the waterworks. The man will need to be patient and calm in the moment, offer comfort, and listen to her explanation in order to understand the "code," if you will, of her thinking process for future use.
That's just classic differences between men and women. Troublesome, yes, but not uncommon. It doesn't have to be insurmountable.
But...all the same, I suspect that far too often once a woman shows that side of herself to a man, he feels a sort of grudge against her. Whether he articulates it or not, I wonder if there isn't usually a sentiment on his part that boils down to: "I've been taken in"?
"What happened to the rational, level-headed, chill woman I thought she was? Was she just lying to me the whole time?"
Or, as one man of my acquaintance infuriatingly put it, "All the crazy started coming out--and that's when I leave 'em!"
Of course she's broken.
How could she not be?
If she was lucky enough not to have suffered from a violent or passive father, she is having a terrible time trying to find a good man who will treat her as well as her father taught her to expect.
This world has lied to her with its ruthless propaganda and confusing, conflicting messages.
"You are strong and independent! You shouldn't expect anyone to take care of you! If you want that you are weak!"
"A woman can choose to be whatever she wants to be. But just not a stay-at-home mom. What are you, some kind of spineless slave?"
"You have to be sexy in order to keep a man interested."
"You can do it all!"
How about the ideals of femininity shown to us? You need to be tall, have lustrous, perfect long hair, be slim as a model, have flawless skin, have the muscles and flexibility of a gymnast, expensive clothes, and have a cutting-edge career, or you aren’t worthy of love.
Every woman in America is bombarded by these messages continually. All the actresses in shows and movies appear flawless, incandescently beautiful. In her heart she knows she can't compete.
That's only the culture, the outside. Every woman has her own story, things she was told and believed as a little girl. Each one has stories to tell of rejection, loneliness, and griefs that formed deep wounds on her heart. All of us have our insecurities, those places of deep hurt that we guard jealously, terrified of them being used against us.
Feminists today are particularly good at that. They hate the weaknesses and wounds that are within their hearts, so they do everything they can to smother and hide them. It's their way of dealing with the suffering of life.
Men don’t have it any easier, either. Today men are being told that masculinity is evil--anything that even smells of masculinity is therefore, (to use their term) "toxic."
“Men shouldn't be assertive--you sexist pig!”
“Men should never get the slightest bit angry--you potential rapist!”
“Men should never do anything risky--you idiot!”
“Men shouldn't be goal-oriented--you greedy, power-hungry control-freak!”
“Men shouldn't like beer and sports--you ignorant, inbred hick!”
“Men shouldn't protect women--I don't NEED your help, you misogynistic freak!”
“Men shouldn't be chivalrous!--you creep, all you want is to make me feel like I owe you something! No thanks, pervert!”
Men aren't allowed to be men. Women aren't supposed to be women. And again, that's only this culture we live in! Who knows what each person's individual story is like? Maybe he was beaten by his father, or maybe she was abused by hers. Maybe his dad never spent time with him; maybe her father told her she was fat and stupid.
Or...what about people like me? What about us girls--and boys--that were called by the Lord at a young age, who grew up in the church, choosing the things of the Lord over the values of the culture?
The truth is, nobody takes you very seriously if you grew up in a loving Christian home. How do you share your testimony when there is no dramatic story to tell? What’s worse, how do you share your testimony to unbelievers when most of your wounds were given at the hands of well-meaning Christians? People who loved you, just imperfectly.
I grew up thinking that I couldn't go to anyone for help when life overwhelmed me. I saw wayward kids being disciplined, and decided they needed more attention than me. When kids pulled stunts or flagrantly broke rules for whatever reason, all the adults rushed to help them. I knew better than to do things like that, so I just…didn’t.
I grew up without friends, often discouraged, feeling lost and adrift. I felt existential dread about time slipping away from me, and relentless guilt for not knowing what I was supposed to do with my life. Since I was so used to smothering my dreams and desires, I had no vision or goals for my future. And I couldn’t tell anyone about it, because I was supposed to have it figured out already! It felt like asking for help once the deadline had already passed.
All through my childhood and teenage years I had recurring nightmares where killers relentlessly chased me and I could barely run. I would try to scream, but my voice was gone. I couldn’t fight, either; my limbs were too heavy. Eventually my strength would give out, and just as they got me, my body would give a jolt that woke me up. I’m convinced I had those dreams because I felt helpless and scared all the time. Every waking moment I was plagued by an oversensitive conscience that wouldn't stop showing me my sin in every little word and action. I couldn’t fight against that. Nor was there any rest, any comfort, or any rescue.
What about us church kids who grew up with everyone assuming we were fine? We can't tell our stories without seeming ungrateful for all the blessings we were given.
Don’t misunderstand me; I am deeply grateful for the legacy I have been given, and I desire to give back to those who invested in me. I did not try to do the right things to earn some kind of gold status with God. Neither did I obey to keep up appearances. I chose the Way of Wisdom because I loved God and wanted to obey Him.
I did not make wise decisions for an easy life or for rewards. I obeyed out of love…and out of fear that God found me as tiresome as I found myself. I just wanted to obey God and forsake my sins, of which I saw in great number every day. I was terrified that I would prove myself unfaithful to His love.
There is no escaping the tragedy of life. Even within the very path of Wisdom, protected in church, called to true repentance as a small child, you can still grow up frightened and starving for comfort. Everyone assumes you’re fine. Authorities rely on you to be a good example to others, and you don’t want to let them down. You don’t obey for praise and rewards, and yet you can’t quite squelch the desire to be praised by the authorities that you’re trying so hard to please. You see others being praised for repenting, and even as you rejoice with them, in the back of your mind you wish somebody would remember that you also work hard to do the right thing.
That may sound like the prodigal son’s older brother, but it isn’t. When you desperately desire to please your parents, your teachers, and your God, it is right to hope for displays of their approval. Say a child makes a handmade craft for his mom. We wouldn’t call him prideful if he’s hoping she’ll be surprised and delighted by it, would we?
The trouble is, most people don’t notice when things go right. They are usually distracted by preparing for the next thing to go wrong. Even the most well-intentioned Christian lets blessings go unthanked sometimes. It is our nature.
Now, if I had asked for approval in any way, that would have been prideful; “fishing for a compliment,” was what it was called in my home. Even if they had praised me (after looking at me askance for calling attention to my virtue), the praise wouldn’t mean anything. Praise means little when it has to be prompted.
I don’t have children of my own, but I would warn every parent that you must praise children and reward them in ways that they will understand. I don’t mean bribery. I mean telling them that you saw and that you were delighted by their choice. I mean enthusiastic words with no qualifiers attached, or hugs, or making time just for them. Give comfort when they are discouraged, don’t just tell them to cheer up or toughen up. Show some grace when they try at all, not just when they do it exactly the way you do it. Whatever their love language is, learn how to speak it to them. Don’t just assume that your top love language will communicate it to them.
As it so happens, to this day I find it hard to ask for approval or even comfort. My default setting is to look for what others need me to be, and try to be that for them. After all, how do you ask for help when you know most people have it worse? How can you ask for comfort from the very ones who are always stretched to the limit giving intense counsel to wayward folks in the church?
It turns out that I’m exceptionally good at hiding my weaknesses, burdens, and griefs from everyone around me. And I admit, I’m scared about what would happen if people knew that about me. What if they find out how broken and needy I am on the inside?
That’s why I’m incensed when boys are surprised when they discover that a girl is broken.
Of course she’s broken.
Of course I’m broken.
How could I not be?
~Cadenza
