Everybody Lies

I've become a fan of the Fox show House. At first I didn't really get the appeal of a doctor with no bedside manner to speak of, making snarky remarks to patients and coworkers. Then again, I am fan of snarkiness, which would explain how I was easily hooked. In case you're not a fan, the show revolves around Dr. Gregory House, a cynical, sarcastic, brilliant man. Each episode is centered around House and his team figuring out off-the-wall illnesses in patients with often bizarre symptoms. House's inability to be honest with himself, but insistent brutal honesty with his friends, is a continual theme.

I can't stop considering the implications of a recent episode. A husband/father suddenly becomes incapable of keeping his thoughts to himself. Everything running through his mind is spoken aloud-- from sexual fantasies to what he really thinks about his wife's job. When asked questions, he can't stop himself from speaking the whole truth. The problem is, his thought life reveals him to be a completely different person from the loving and upright character he has projected most of his life. The man practically tells his young daughter she is stupid. He tells his wife, a non-profit fundraiser, that he thinks people who are incapable of doing great things try to make up for it by supporting the great ideas of other people. He makes wide, sweeping judgements of everything his wife does, breaking her heart.

QUESTIONS I don't want to ask myself:

1. Do my actions and words reflect my thoughts or do they cover up my thoughts? Well, that depends on the situation. Unfortunately.

I am often outspoken about authenticity. I really hate it when people are inauthentic. And yet...

2. How often do I let people see who I really am?

3. How often do my thoughts go unspoken because they're filled with bitterness and hurtful words?

Sure, I'll spout off my true opinions about the design of marketing materials at work and if we're friends, I'll tell you when I believe you're making a bad decision in your relationship and I'll let you know if I think your actions are based on something deeper that you're unwilling to confront. And I expect you to do the same for me, if we're friends. (Don't get any bright ideas, Random Acquaintance!)

What I Won't Say Out Loud:
I won't say that your new haircut looks like a drug-addict cut it with dull scissors. I won't tell you that when you try to be cute and wear baby doll dresses, you actually do look like a five year old, save your gargantuan boobs spilling over in everyone's faces. (Seriously, if you have big boobs, you NEED this bra, and only this bra. You're welcome.) I won't say that I know you're judging my relationship, but I'm not so keen on yours either. I won't say all the petty cut downs that run through my head when I hear what you said when I wasn't around, and I won't say there's a reason I'm more successful than you. But damn it if I don't think every last one of those.

To be honest, I'm not really sure what that says about me. Because, get real, we all think mean things. Does the fact that I don't say those thoughts mean I have tact? Yes, on some levels. On other levels-- you know, the deeper ones that are kind of painful to confront-- it means my thought life isn't what I want it to be. I don't want to be the person who smiles at you and says "Oh you look fabulous!" and is actually thinking Oh dear God, that panty line. Can we say thong anyone? That's just getting far too Southern for me.

In the end of the House episode, the man is "cured" of his inability to keep things to himself. His wife, whose whole person was slashed by her husband the previous day, shows up to take him home. "I was promoted today," she tells him. "That's great!" He smiles and she escorts him to the car, going on as though nothing ever happened, while everyone knows it's not what he really thinks. Because you see, it's easier to lie to ourselves too, to tell ourselves that the hurtful truths our loved ones say to us aren't really them. It's easier, isn't it, to believe their lies? It's easier to believe our own lies within our own hearts.

I AM SO TACTFUL!

No, I'm not.

What I think and what I do are, too often, very different.

Hebrews tell us that "Jesus doesn't change...He's always totally himself." (Hebrews 13.8, msg)

I want to always be totally myself, you see. Because everybody does lie. But I don't want to.

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Like a Child

This weekend I had the good fortune of traveling to the eighty-degree glory of Orlando, Florida. I went for work, but what's Orlando without a bit of Mickey Mouse, right? My dear friend-from-the-west, Sarah, met me in the sun and we spent a delightful weekend filled with Disney World, outlet malls, margharitas and funnel cake! (Cue stomach pangs.)

I was nine years old the last time I was in the Magic Kingdom, and to be honest, I felt nine years old again. Cliche that may be, but the wonder of twinkling lights and Cinderella's Castle was not lost to me. At ten o'clock p.m. the lights of the park were to go down and the SpectroMagic Parade was set to begin!

We secured a prime location in front of The Castle, right up on the curb of Main Street U.S.A., where we were sure not to miss a single character or sparkling dancer. As we waited for the lights to dim, little girls in frilly dresses and oversized hairbows twirled and giggled in the street. One lifted the edge of her smocked dress and spun around with a wide grin on her face, fully delighting in the attention of her parents, beneath the glorious heights of the fairy tale castle. And I could not resist. So I twirled and I grinned and I giggled too.

And when the streetlamps went low and the music swelled, I stood with round eyes, enraptured by the magical lights and singing characters. I caught myself smiling wildly, singing along. In those moments in a magical kingdom, any worries the adult world had introduced faded easily aside in the wonder of such a spectacle.

So I wonder about this Magic Kingdom. Is it magical because it is so very different from our everday world? Maybe. Most of us don't live in places where castles grace the end of Main Street and adventurous music plays from unseen speakers. We don't look at the miracle of electric lights late at night and wonder at the way shadows dance and glass glistens. Most nights, when a meandering and lovely song begins to play, we are not prompted to twirl and grin and delight in the gaze of our beloved. And yet, there is a place that exists where all of these things are true for nearly everyone, and it's right in the middle of the everyday world, we only must choose to go there. It is Disney World and it's located in Orlando, Florida.

Or...

Or it is at hand-- everywhere, everyday, for every person to experience. What if this magical kingdom, this kingdom that pulses forth wonder at every turn, is within you? You must only choose to go there.

Jesus said "The kingdom of God doesn't come... when someone says, 'Look here!' or, 'There it is!' And why? Because God's kingdom is already among you." (Luke 17.21 msg)

Maybe sometimes, understanding the Kingdom of God is about gaining a new perspective and for me, that meant going to Disney World. Because now I wonder what it might be like if I looked at the whole world, everyday, with the eyes of a nine year old. What if the slow graying of the deep blue sky at early dawn gave me the same sense of wonder as Cinderella's castle, brightly lit after sundown? And what if telling a friend her heart is beautiful could light up her face with delight, the same way those little girls' faces shone with the knowledge of their parents' adoration? What if the swell of a symphony on the radio provoked me to twirl unabashedly, just because it feels so joyful and free? And what if the breaking down of complex walls around hard hearts, and authentic conversation, and openness to change, and asking for humility and brokenness resulted in limitless freedom and boundless joy, unsurpassed by even the sight of Mickey Mouse or the thrill of Space Mountain?

When my family walked into the Magic Kingdom when I was nine years old, my brother Taylor was two. He spotted Tigger immediately and ran straight into the arms of that bouncy, gregarious tiger, grinning, laughing and fully delighting at the mere fact of his existence.

"These children are at the very center of life in the kingdom. Mark this: Unless you accept God's kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you'll never get in." That was Jesus in Mark 10.

If God's kingdom is here, is current, then it's part of our everyday life. If our understanding of that depends upon our perspective, maybe twirling around to the symphony of daily life isn't so crazy. Maybe it is the simplicity of a child delighting in the mere existence of her King.