The Lie They Tell About Emma Watson and Me

by Lyndsey Graves

Today I went to the grocery store, the nice one here in Atlanta, and unlike the bargain-box store in my Syracuse neighborhood, it had rows and rows of magazines on the checkout line. I stood in that checkout line holding a can of beans and, for two full minutes, I stared at Emma Watson, wishing to be her. I tried the whole time to talk myself down, telling myself the picture was photoshopped and I don't have to have her cheekbones to be happy. But I really only felt one emotion: a nameless fusion of mild envy and despair.

This is why I normally don’t let myself look at magazines in stores, fixing my gaze instead on anything boring in order to avoid them - because they lie. Maybe one day I will have the serenity to glance at Emma's pixel-perfect skin and merely think, "Good for her," but I don't really think so; I don't think that's how the lie is supposed to work.

I'm not supposed to be content with myself. I'm supposed to buy serums, concealers, pastes, powders, relaxers, intensifiers, shields, infusions, masks, and moisturizers. I'm supposed to buy Zumba classes and Spanx and self-help books. It is important that I believe there is something wrong with me.

For years and years, I’ve believed the lie. In fact, I used to think that it would be prideful or dangerous for a Christian to be happy with him- or herself. Self-improvement has been a religion of mine for as long as I can remember – if you don't focus on your flaws, you're deceiving yourself; if you flaunt your strengths, you'll be an embarrassing show-off; if you're not good at something, you'd better work ceaselessly toward reaching your full potential.

So for me, it comes from everywhere. It comes from media messages so pervasive that I have taken to physically dodging them, and from the slightly-twisted brand of "pursuing holiness" that I've adopted: this deep-down belief that I cannot ever be content with myself, that I cannot ever know rest. More specifically, that failure to be and do everything perfectly is failure at all of life. That real people have no weaknesses, need no help, admit no failures. That I'll try harder tomorrow.

The truth is, I can't be and do everything. And neither can you. And this should be obvious to us, but it's not. We think that the perfect version of ourselves would be a carbon copy of some romantic-comedy-protagonist: good-looking, intelligent, hardworking, outgoing and funny, but also deep and profound; fit beyond belief, but also able to enjoy a big buttery meal. We think we can be creative and organized, have a best friend who's slightly uglier than us, be perfect mothers and daughters and friends and employees and girlfriends. 

But the thing about romantic-comedy-protagonists is that they're somehow entirely forgettable. More than that, they're not real - they're little gods. And that's really what we're trying to be. Flawless. Bigger than we are. Gods.

I've spent days and months of my life beating myself up for not being extroverted, ten pounds lighter, an early riser, more photogenic, more spiritually disciplined, concerned about strangers, or for not having a louder voice. And if I’m honest, in these areas of my life, if I can only accomplish the bare minimum, that’s me doing really well. 

You have your own list, too, of all the million things you think you should be. And I think it's time we all said, “I'm just not.”  God has those things, and he did not give them to me, and someone else will have to be them because I can't. I am not infinite. I am just me. And I trust that God doesn’t require me to be infinite, so I will not continue on the soul-crushing slog of pretending that I am.

I am not a detail person, and I used to think I should be. I used to think that every one of the ‘good’ people, the people who were doing it right, noticed and remembered everything. I would berate myself with terrible anger and derision whenever I forgot to bring a knife with my cake to an event, or missed an obvious step in some long math problem, or called the kitchen "clean" when others could point out the crumbs by the toaster and the pots on the stove.

But when I started my new job this year - only because I knew I'd let people down - I stopped trying to keep track of all the details. I learned to make lists and re-make them when I lost them and double-check them again, but I also learned to ask for help. I just looked at rooms full of people and said, “I can't do details.” I stopped being embarrassed when people reminded me of things that should have been obvious. 

And guess what? No one cared. No one looked around and said, "Where did we get this awful intern?" They only rarely laughed at me, and more importantly, they liked my big-picture, abstract, creative approach to my job.

Some things aren't so easy to own. It's a little counterintuitive to value introversion in the U.S. - people are always trying to fix your "shyness." Sometimes, I still feel deficient when every job description I read wants applicants to be a “creative planner, great at envisioning, and outside-the-box thinker” as well as “detail oriented to the core.” I worry whether taking a break from volunteering would make me a selfish person. And of course, the Vogue covers will always try to mock. 

In a lot of ways, liking yourself can be a pretty radical decision - but I'm learning to do it. I'm learning that I don't have to be the airbrushed blonde or the sinless saint to be enough. I'm more of a normal-looking supporting character, the one with the quirky flaws and lame catchphrases who needs help, and I think, just maybe, God is wild about me anyway.

At least sometimes I do. The rest of the time I'm trying to fix my trust deficiency.

Lyndsey lives and works in Syracuse, NY. She majored in theology at Lee University, which is like eating cake or listening to thunderstorms - too enjoyable to be called work. Also, no one will pay you to do it. You can follow her on Twitter @lyndseygraves and you can find more of her writing at her blog To Be Honest.

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.
 
You might also like:  

• Intertwined With the Poor: What the Missional Movement Lacks
• Because It's Not My Tragedy
• Let's All Talk About What We're Tired Of (A Response to Tony Jones)

My Seventeen Magazine Tells Me...

by Mitchell Richards

Scanning around social media the other day, I came across someone’s picture of the Seventeen Magazine they had just purchased. It was your stereotypical magazine-geared-toward-teenage-girls cover: a couple of young attractive girls, neon colors, way too many headlines promising tips for perfect hair and “825 ways to look pretty.”  

I have no problem with any of this; it’s the social norm. However, plastered at the bottom of the cover, the main headline reads in all caps: Get everything you want this year (and in smaller print right under that) great body, tons of $$$, amazing clothes + mega confidence.

I’m so glad the Bible isn’t made up like a preteen girls magazine, but I often feel as though we treat it that way.

Usually at some point in the calendar year, I really sit down and wonder what I want from my current chapter of life. Years ago, these self-reflections involved finding jobs that paid me more money and finding a wife. These goal-setting sessions often used terms like “settling down” and “I want [this] to happen.” 

Life for me was once all about acquiring. Life was about wanting and the pursuit of acquiring those wants. Life was about getting what I thought I wanted. Now I handle all that quite differently.

Apparently, a year and a half ago that mentality changed. On a whim, I decided to coach little kids soccer and it has been such a blessing. It’s not easy though. 

If you would have asked me two years ago, in all seriousness, what my thoughts on young children were I would have told you I wanted nothing to do with them. Kids freak me out. I always just imagine young kids with spaghetti all over their mouths, defiant to everyone around them, and still wetting the bed. So when I volunteered to coach 6 and 7 year olds, I wasn’t really sure why I even wanted to.

 

Now, after multiple seasons with a lot of the same kids, everything has changed. The change has nothing to do with soccer though and everything to do with the acquiring mentality…

Life was not meant to be acquired…life was meant to be given away.

Since I've started coaching, I’ve realized my life is actually worth something. I’ve realized that I have something to offer to the rest of the world, and that something is NOT soccer. I used to sit in my apartment and do nothing all day. I wasn’t in school; I just worked and did nothing else. My life had nothing to offer because I was busy trying to acquire. Now, it's worth something because I’m giving it away.

Since coaching, life has not become any easier; in fact I’ve made it a lot more difficult. I started school again and I’m a full time student. I work two jobs. And soccer season is just about to start up again and so is school and my finances and time will be stretched to the limit. But one thing I won’t do is stop coaching these kids.

Since coaching, I’ve also become an uncle again two times over. My brother and his wife adopted their son Rance from Ukraine and they just recently had another son, Carden. Meeting them all for the first time, with the new outlook that life is to be given, not taken, changes my entire vision of what it means to be in a family and to be an uncle. 

I got to hang out with Rance a month or so ago at a camp and all I could think about was how much I wanted to be a better man for this kid. He’s 8 years old, and conscious of what I do, as opposed to say a baby who doesn’t even look at me or know my name. 

This idea that I have something in my life to offer to the world applies directly to my nephews and the rest of my family.  If I want them to know me in only one way it's as their uncle who would lay down his life for them because that’s what life is all about; that is what love is all about. They would never get that vibe from me if I were sitting in my apartment all day experiencing boredom firsthand. They’d think that their uncle was just a quiet crazy man who only came around on holidays.

But I’m not that person, and the only reason I know this is because I have something to give…my life. When your life becomes about acquiring and taking, when it becomes “what can I get from life” that means you’re doing it all wrong. 

I’ve learned in the last year and a half that you can have nothing and laugh more than you ever have in your life. I’ve learned what it means to be broke and what it means to have everything. I’ve learned that my life is not only to be shared with everyone around me, but also given to them. The more I hold back for myself, the less I have to give to the people I love. The difference between villains and heroes in movies and comics is that the villain wants to acquire, the hero wants to give.

The last 6 months of my life were some of the hardest and busiest months I’ve ever had, but nowhere in the Bible does it say anything about life being easy. The Bible doesn’t have neon headlines telling that you can get everything you want in life from God if you follow these simple steps. It doesn’t tell you that if you look hard enough at the red words you’ll find the hidden meaning to life and the way to stop sinning.  

The difference now is that I understand that this busyness is a good busyness because it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the people around me. Life isn’t easy right now, but I don’t care because it is good. I’m living the best years of my life right now, and nothing has changed from two years ago when I was depressed and angry at life; nothing except my outlook on acquiring and giving.

The Bible says that you shouldn’t worry about the acquiring mentality, but instead to concern yourself with Jesus and follow his example; his example that only says one thing: give yourself away.

Mitchell writes occasionally at mitchellrichards.com. He also tweets a lot and you can follow him @MitchellWords. He wrote a book called Definitive Blurs and you can find it here.