My Story

“My story is important not because it is mine, God knows, but because if I tell it anything like right, the chances are you will recognize that in many ways it is also yours – Frederick Buechner (Telling Secrets)

 

It has taken a long time for me to discover that God likes me.  I’d been told that He loved me, but that just meant that He would do things for me…maybe even make great sacrifices on my behalf.  There was also this feeling that He had to the way your family has to. It was His duty to.  But I was pretty sure, that God like everybody else thought that I talked way too much, was annoyingly loud and was embarrassed by how thoughtless I could be, especially given that I was supposed to represent Him to the world.  I didn’t blame Him either. I wanted to be different too. I really wanted to be that girl, the one that was gently feminine and delicate, the one that everybody seemed to like so much too. So whenever I saw people sigh and shake their head or whenever that boy I liked went and paid attention to that other girl, I put on a wry smile as if to say, “I know, and I’m sorry…for the way that I am.” 

            Honestly, I didn’t like me all that much either. But I did notice that people tolerated me if I was at least useful.  I also learned that there were ways you could make yourself more valuable.  If you get straight A’s and go to a good school, you’re worth more. I worked hard at that, but I never did make it to the top. I wasn’t smart enough to be the best. When it came to relating to people, I wasn’t ok with being a problem to be fixed, but being a resource to be used was alright. I spiritualized it though, and thought my purpose in life was to be useful in the kingdom of God, and that there I would derive my significance. 

I grew up poor, but it wasn’t the lack of money or nice clothes that made the experience so hard. It was the feeling of being unloved and alone that made that me truly poor.  Mother Teresa says, “The most terrible poverty is loneliness and the feeling of being unloved.” It’s so true.  It’s the reason why those who come from broken homes but find even one adult who loves and believes in them develop the ability to go on and have healthy relationships and lives. 

They told me that when I was a baby they worked at a restaurant and left me in one of the rooms. Our family of four lived in a van those first two years in the US, but they were happy.  Mom came in at breakfast, lunch, dinner and before bed to change my diaper and feed me.  Other than that I almost never saw her. That changed later on because I was sent to preschool.  There I got more attention, but still very little time with mom. Once I was in kindergarten my brother would take me to and from school.  We got home and our parents would return later in the evening after it was dark out. School was easy so I usually didn’t have any homework left by the time they got home.

Mom taught me how to prepare for school by putting my shoes and bags in the same place so that when I got up in the morning I knew where to find them.  The bus pass, which cost five dollars, I hung around my neck so that I wouldn’t lose it.  Sometimes I slept with it because I was afraid I’d forget it. When I was seven my brother graduated elementary school so I did the journey by myself.  I’d walk the 5 blocks to the bus stop and take the bus 20 minutes before getting off.  We were part of the reduced lunch program so I would have my breakfast at school.  My parents thought the homework was too easy, so they told me to request more.  I must have been eager to please because I obeyed them and asked for and got extra homework. 

Once I became a Christian in junior high, I was bent on being a “good Christian” whatever that meant.  The definition would change depending on the community, what values and virtues were being extolled, and which people were being honored.  In the beginning it meant never missing church, and wanting to be a missionary in China. Later when racial reconciliation & social justice was the focus it meant befriending people of different ethnicities, missions work in the inner city, exploring career options like social work in east Oakland and being involved in worthy causes. But behind so much of it was this agenda, to be a “good Christian” in my own eyes, so that I could be at peace with myself and be free of the guilt.  The activism, multitude of concerns and chronic activity just damaged my inner capacity for peace, and created a resentful soul, which saw myself as a martyr (Thomas Merton paraphrased). I knew no rest. 

In my world, there was no such thing as a gift. Everything was a debt. My parents did so much for me, but all that meant was that I now owed them. I didn’t feel glad for all that I had, I felt burdened.  I never wanted anyone to do anything for me, because I didn’t want the debt. Love was earned. I spent much of my Christian life trying to pay God back, by being good and doing good, since I owed Him most of all.  I was always worrying about becoming that Christian – the consumer Christian, the fake Christian, the nominal Christian, the complacent Christian, the Christian who’s in a bubble, the “cheap grace” Christian, the Christian who’s so heavenly minded she’s no earthly good, the hypocritical Christian, the judgmental Christian and on and on.  There were so many kinds of Christians; I was not supposed to be. I’d try to move away from being judgmental and fall right into cheap grace.  I’d try to rest in God but worry that I was becoming complacent, and that God would spit me out. I’d keep analyzing my heart and worrying about how it was. I could never win. Spirituality just became another arena for me to be a perfectionist. My identity was in my spiritual gifts and my talents. I only felt ok with myself if I was being useful to the kingdom.

            I tried so hard, but in all the wrong ways. My mind never stopped trying to figure out how to do this, “following Jesus” thing.  I read a lot of books, and talked to a lot of people.  There didn’t seem to be a whole lot of consensus among the people of God.  I kept trying to follow Christian principles, not knowing that that’s not the same thing as following Christ.  Mostly I just found even more things that I was supposed to be that I couldn’t do. Looking back it wasn’t that everyone meant to burden me with “should’s.” It was that my paradigm and the lenses through which I looked into the world filtered everything I heard, so that the meta-message was always, you’re inadequate, and you need to do better. God felt impossible to satisfy.

            A pastor arrived.  One that managed to teach on the love of God, over and over again for years.  Every time he asked God what to teach on, it was always the same thing, the love of God. He called it the thousand ways to cook spam.  He and his wife taught me like patient parents.  They even apologized in advance for the ways they would fail me. There was freedom in knowing not to expect them to be perfect. Love was a gift.  It was not earned.  Whatever it had been that I’d been earning before wasn’t love.

Then there came the time when God started to stir up a lot of emotional pain.  It came at a time when I finally had a spiritual family and place to belong.  Their eyes lit up whenever they saw me and mine sparkled for them. I needed them to tell me who I was; I needed them to be mirrors.  I needed a place where I was seen and known. Finally being given all that brought up the pain that had long been hidden. In the quiet safety of this community and His presence there was an invitation. God waited patiently as I came to Him with my brave face on, trying to convince Him and myself that I really was ok. The pain was a gift from God.  It was His way of letting me know that something was wrong, something was broken.  There have been many more times like that one since then.  He stirs things up, cleans out wounds and gives me periods of rest in between.  Each time, I’m a little clearer and a little freer. The most healing of all was that the love God now changed to mean that when I came to him, His face lit up.  In fact it beamed, and He grinned at me from ear to ear.  Every faltering step I took in letting go yielded a swell of affection, as I’d hear him say, “You got it, you got it!” He was excited and joyous for me every time I understood a little more who He was and what He was all about. 

Years later I got really ill.  The medication sapped me of my entire sense of self.  For two years, I was just hanging on.  Even when I was able to function again, I felt like I had lost myself.  I had always been known for my passion for God and my love for people.  But in that season, both dried up. I became the worst thing a person could ever be, a Taker – one who only takes but never gives. I was listless and empty. I would search my heart and find no love, no sense of caring for anyone or anything. I thought that I had completely lost the capacity to love anyone.  Through that God showed me, that I had placed my identity in what I was known for, but even that was shaky ground.  He would treasure me and cherish me through that.  He accepted my loveless heart and eventually brought me back to life.

Looking back I’m really not sure how God did all the things He’s done in me, but whatever He did, it worked.  And whatever He’s doing these days seems to be working too.  There’s a sense that He just carried me here on eagles wings. I can point to some of the things He did to change me, but I know there are many more that are hidden from me. He gave me a few sisters who have stuck by me through highs and lows.  Their commitment to me has been transforming.  They sometimes know me better than I know myself. He did a work in these people I used to worry about a lot, in a way that I never could have done.  So now I know, that I can trust Him with the people I care about. He allowed me to cross paths with older saints, people who to me seem like models and heroes but they say the same kinds of things I do. They say they don’t live up to the call either, despite being at this so long they don’t do this very well, the walk is harder than they can do and they can’t seem to figure it out. Apparently, that’s just how it is, and there’s a blessedness in knowing that. They had gone before and helped me, and I’ve found that there are ways in which I’ve gone before and can help. Life is long and hard, but God brings us through. We’re all just on the same journey.

 When I was in college I was praying and saw this picture of a water drop. It struck me because of the way there is a ripple affect when you touch one life because then it affects another and another and its influence goes beyond what you can see.  It has become a symbol for the vision I have for my life.  To take one life, one person and discover the story and life God has created in them, to reveal to them their beauty and value, to reveal their capacities for life and to show them the light that is shining in them.  As Mother Theresa says: 

”I never look at the masses as my responsibility; I look at the individual. I can only love one person at a time – just one, one, one. So you begin. I began – I picked up one person. Maybe if I didn’t pick up that one person, I wouldn’t have picked up forty-two thousand….The same thing goes for you, the same thing in your family, the same thing in your church, your community. Just begin – one, one, one.”

I get completely overwhelmed at the idea of loving the masses.  The weight of one soul is already impossible to bear so God lets me be a help, but never calls me to be a Savior. Yet it is also something about which I can say, “This is something I can’t not do, for reasons I’m unable to explain to anyone else and don’t fully understand myself but that are nonetheless compelling (Parker Palmer).”

“It took me a long time to understand that although everyone needs to be loved, I cannot be the source of that gift to everyone who asks me for it. There are some relations in which I am capable of love and others in which I am not. To pretend otherwise is to make promises I can’t keep and damages the person in need. Giving something I don’t possess is faithless, based on the mistaken notion that God has no way of channeling love to the other except through me. We are created in and for community but community cuts both ways: when we reach the limits of our own capacity to love, community means trusting that someone else will be available to the person in need.” (Parker Palmer)

 

I’m learning to trust the community to be the other parts of the body that I’m not. I’ve learned to feel more hopeful about the people of God, the church. When have we ever been faithful? Yet God’s sovereignty prevails and His kingdom continues to advance.

 

He showed me that I actually don’t need to figure out how to become holy.  When growing in virtue was the focus of my life, my failures and sin dominated my consciousness and led to discouragement and despair.  God is the one who forms in me what works for me to help other people and it is different from any other person.  He asks things of me that have the side effect of forming what He needs to, when He needs to.  He also gives me credit for all the hidden things no one else would. He’s not in a hurry to have it all happen at once. I’m learning how to walk in step with Him, and just enjoy the walk instead of trying to run ahead and try to “get there” so soon. I can live one day at time, and enjoy one moment at a time. I can accept the things I can’t change; instead of thinking I have the power and ability to control my world. I don’t need to try to know everything anymore. I don’t have to figure out how He’s going to make everything work for the good.  He just will.

 

I don’t need to concern myself too much about how people perceive me, or even how I perceive myself.  He’s never disappointed or surprised at the ways I fail.  And failure is never the final word. He seems to just let me take the test as many times as I need to pass. I don’t need to feel guilty for not being faster, smarter, stronger. I still don’t like letting people down, but I know now that I will. In that I see how wounds can be healed, how pain can be redeemed and grace covers it all. I can stop trying to prove myself to myself and to others. In the court of public opinion, others can’t judge my faithfulness. Their judgments are imperfect because they can’t know how God has specifically asked me to work out loving others and they don’t know exactly how much He has asked of me.  I don’t have to worry about wasting my life, since it doesn’t belong to me anyways. I just need to follow the Shepherd. My limits instead of being a source of shame, just remind me that I’m not God.

 

I don’t need to try so hard to get the things I need.  I cooperate with God when I sense His guidance, but mostly I just have to wait because He’s doing all the working. Jacob schemed and grasped his whole life for the things that God was going to give Him anyways. I’ve had this core belief that I need to take care of myself because no one else will.  It made me selfish and self-centered, but as God proves faithful in showing me that He will take care of me, I find that I don’t need to be so worried about myself. Spiritual warfare is still real and the battle rages on, but to the degree lies are exposed and I turn to God, they can’t do anything to me.Though there is still pain in this life, the ache of incompleteness keeps me tethered to the heart of God, and I know that the best is yet to come.

 

God doesn’t need me to accomplish anything in particular. The people I know who are closest to God always say they have no real sense of accomplishment.  It was God who did it. It was in His mercy that He let them go along for the ride. God doesn’t need me to do anything for Him. It’s not even about me doing things for Him. It’s that He does things through me. God will use me and I won’t even know it.  Most times, all it takes is for me to show up. I have always wished that I had more to give.  These days I can have rest that He only asks that I give what I have, and then watch in awe and wonder at the way He multiplies.

 

God never forces anything on me the way I or someone else might.  Anything He wants of me, He grows from within, and He’s patient with the process. His yoke is lighter than the one I would try to carry. He says to me, “Walk with me and work with me. Watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. (The Message)” I have learned that if I try to be or do something noble that has nothing to do with who I am, I may look good to others and to myself for a while. But the fact that I am exceeding my limits will eventually have consequences. It is an ignorant, sometimes arrogant, attempt to override one’s nature, and it will always fail.  It is also a way in which we do violence to ourselves in the name of vision that however lofty is forced on the self instead of growing it from within (Parker Palmer paraphrased). Life no longer feels like a job that I have to work hard at. It’s become the gift God intended it to be.  Most of all God has become someone I enjoy getting to know, and being known by. 

 

I learned that God actually wants me to be myself. In fact I glorify Him when I’m most fully myself. That should be the easiest thing in the world. It’s only difficult because there are so many things to unlearn, ideals to lay down and people who seem to want me to be someone else. He’s given me permission to like what I like, and dislike what I dislike.  As I listen to my life, and pay attention to what’s going on inside, as I read my responses to my experiences and understand my nature, I live with greater gladness and authenticity. Before that I had simply found a “noble” way to live a life that was not my own, a life spent imitating heroes instead of listening to my heart. But He calls me to be the person I was born to be, not Moses, or Mary or Mother Theresa, but me. I feel I am finally allowing who I am, here and now to be enough.

 

He never wanted anything but for me to find life in Him.  And He seems the most pleased when I get it, how much He loves me, likes me, is thrilled to be with me, and when I am at ease with Him.  Life in the Kingdom has turned out to be a lot easier than I thought.  It’s so much more restful to rest in the comfort that I am “the beloved of God.”

Tina Chiang (May, 2011)