I AM

As we close this unexpected year, I can’t help but think about some of the things that I’ve been through this year. I’ve gotten a gallbladder surgery, went to Sri Lanka for the first time ever, took an entire ministry online due to COVID, moved to a new apartment, and left the comfort of a familiar position to be part of the team that is planting a new church. For a year mostly spent quarantined at home, a lot sure has happened.

I ran across this question not too long ago: What’s scarier than being who you really are?

This question got to me so much that I wrote it in big green letters in my journal. For the longest time, I didn’t really have an answer to this. It might have been just one of those rhetorical questions people throw out to get people to be true to themselves. I am already who I am. I’m not perfect. Not by any standard. I have my insecurities. I have, this year more than ever, learned to embrace who I am and accept myself. But that’s not the question isn’t it? The question asked what could possibly be scarier than being who we really are?

My answer? To have who you really are be rejected in lieu of others’ expectations of who you should be.

I’ve dealt with this all my life it seems. No, I’m not exaggerating. I was born as a pastor’s kid. Other people’s expectations was like my shadow, following wherever I was going. Everyone seemed to think they have a say in how I dress, what I say, how I look, who I hang out with. Now I’m an adult. (I know, right? It’s a shock for me as well. I had to double check.) You’d think that with adulthood comes a freedom from being hunted by expectations. What I’ve realized this year is… no. Not when you’re living in an eastern culture. Not when you are a pastor.

You’d probably say, “Just don’t mind them. Don’t give a _____ about what other people think or say.” Honestly? I don’t. What others’ think about me doesn’t change who I am. And it shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t. But it does affect me in a different way. I learned it this year, as I move into a different role in a different place. It seems to me that a lot of people have an idea of what a pastor should be, and I don’t fit that image in their minds. Because I don’t fit their image of a pastor, an error message comes up. Really, that’s none of my beeswax. The problem I have is, often people get too bogged down by their expectations on who I should be, that they couldn’t - for the life of them - really, really see me. What’s scarier than being who you really are? Being who you really are and not be seen.

A pastor couldn’t possibly employ sarcasm.

A pastor couldn’t possibly have a sense of humor.

A pastor couldn’t possibly have purple hair.

A pastor couldn’t possibly have feelings.

A pastor couldn’t possibly struggle with anxiety.

A pastor couldn’t possibly get frustrated at God.

A pastor couldn’t possibly have hobbies.

A pastor couldn’t possibly have other interests other than pastoring.

A pastor couldn’t possibly struggle with sin.

A pastor couldn’t possibly need a break.

A pastor couldn’t possibly need to set boundaries with their flock.

A pastor couldn’t possibly say no.

A pastor couldn’t possibly…

How much of who I am - as known by the people around me - is wrapped up in their expectations of what I should be? As a pastor? A female? A tricenarian? The sad reality is often people stop at their expectations of me, never to step further and actually get to know me. Actually see me. I’m sure I’m not the only one struggling with this. I might be. You never know. I’d probably hypothesize that this is why a lot of popular pastors crashes and burn. They were put on a pedestal because they “should” be on that pedestal. And then they try to live every day on that pedestal. What a tiring, dangerous existence!

As I mention earlier, I’m not perfect. I will never claim to be. I’m a single female pastor. Even those three words strung together in a sentence might instill fear and shock in some people’s hearts. Even though I use the label pastor a lot to define myself here, I haven’t always been a pastor, and I’m not going to be a pastor forever. But all that to say, there is so much more to me than what you, dear dear friends, think I should be. I am who I am. Not who you think I should be.

This little rumination pushes and shoves me back to God’s moment with Moses at the burning bush. Moses grew up Egypt, with their gods and traditions and worship styles. Then he hung around with the Midianites with their view of the divine and how to worship. And let’s be honest. You and I bring our own presuppositions and expectations of who we think God ought to be. But to Moses, and to us, he declares. I am who I AM.

The invitation, from the very beginning, has always been to know God. Not through our parents’ faiths. Not through assumptions we’ve made about God. Not through tradition. Not through our pragmatic expectations of God. Not through society’s view on God. The invitation is for us to taste and see. Really know.

My wish for this new year is to be seen as who I really am. Not seen through the lens of others’ expectations and how much I’m failing at that. But to be accepted and loved as I am. Maybe even going as far as seeing myself the way God sees me, the way God made me.

And maybe. Just maybe. The invitation to all of us is to truly know God and take Him as he is. Not who we think he should be. Not who we assume he would be. Not who we wish he could be. But for who he is. Maybe we’ll be surprised at how we can become even more ourselves when we humbly receive who He Is: The I Am.

With lots of love as I close 2020,

T.