What Would Thin Be Like? And Other Silly Thoughts In Serious Times

I'm thinking of writing another book. This one could be entitled What Would Thin Be Like? And Other Silly Thoughts In Serious Times. Yes, you read right. While other people's blogs (especially my fellow friends here on Mercy Ships) detail the ups and downs of missionary work, the plight of the poor, and the trials of the world, the simple side of my mind turns to randomness. Something must be done.

I really want to be one of those ultra-serious people. I don't want to have to convince people that I hold two master's degrees and have a couple of pennies of sense rattling around in my brain. I want people to just know it. I want to exude intelligence and maturity, but instead I often feel like my silliness makes me seem much younger than my forty years (and not in a good way). I'm sure Mother Teresa didn't get shocked looks once people found out she got the Nobel Prize. It simply made sense that she should get it.

But when I think about the person I would like to be--loving people like Mother Teresa, sacrificing like Esther, evangelizing people like Billy Graham, forgiving people like Nelson Mandela, inspiring people like Ghandi, charming people like Oprah, praying like Paul, and basically fully embodying Jesus--I can only think of silliness. I wonder if I'm thin enough, smart enough, educated enough...am I enough? All of my insecurities shine through and I wonder silly things like "what would it be like to be thin or if my head was on the body of someone like Gabrielle Union?"

No matter how many letters there are behind my name, what I haven't accomplished shines through. No matter how many times I've stepped out on faith, I consider the opportunities I may have missed when I was scared. No matter how many people I've showed love to, I worry about those who I fell short with. Even in the midst of serving God in this wonderful way on the mission field, I feel like I should always be doing or being more. Serious people do more, right? ...Or so I ask myself. I mean, why haven't I personally found the cure to the Ebola crisis in West Africa by now? Ludicrous, right? It's funny how no matter where you go, your stuff goes with you. Every insecurity and every ... I find myself wondering how it is that no matter how much you work on it, those things seem to surface at the most inopportune times.

But, at the end of the day, I was reminded that I am, indeed enough. A fellow minister was interviewing me and asked me about the book(s) that I felt every minister should read (beyond the Bible). I sat there stumped as I looked at him, and all those insecurities began to surface again as I drew a blank. I thought of how no one would ever believe that I graduated from seminary if I don't come up with acceptable answers to the question and begin quoting A.W. Tozier, D. Willard or the like. And then an overwhelming peace came over me as I realized that I was not them and that God didn't make a mistake. I really felt the reality of what Psalm 139 says when it talks about being 'fearfully and wonderfully made and having your soul know it well.' While serious things can be important, God has gifted me with a joy that simply flows over and may seem silly to most. So my soul kicked in and reminded me that I don't have to prove my intelligence or commitment to all things serious. My soul kicked in and reminded me that the greatest job that I have is to love and do so in my own skin with my own silliness and my own style.

Now this knowing won't stop the occasional return of the my-head-on-actress-body thoughts or wondering how I can do more to heal the world. It's those random thoughts that fuel the passion of great people to do great things. Perhaps I'll finally get healthier and have my body be a living reflection of God's deliverance from our vices (like chocolate) or maybe I'll even stumble across a cure for HIV/AIDS in my spare time. Who knows? But for now, all this silliness in these serious times is enough for God and so it's enough for me.