that one time in a coffee shop: one sentence to set us all free

Sometimes my friends say brilliant things and I savor them for moments like this. Sweet and punchy, gold in my pocket. Ready for wings. 

Here it is:

“You don’t have to perform for me.”

But first, some observations.

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The coffee shop.
The hallway.

The lunchroom.
The grocery store.

The bar.

You are bound to exchange a “how are you?”

The smart ones respond with some flavor of “good, thanks” or “good, and you?” and get on with their lives.

But then there’s people like me, the truth tellers. We are the complicated ones. We are bothered by the question because we hate the losing game. Answering with “good” is so vague and deceptive. But answering with the truth is vulnerable and time-consuming… so...

“I’m doing well. Thanks.” 

It’s all metaphors anyway, right?

Who really cares? 

Why are you so angsty and conflicted?

 - because most people are hurting (and/or hurting others) and we need more safe spaces that keep our hearts raw and tender and responsive to the circus around us
- because sometimes we are actually doing well, so we should create more space for celebrations and details, spreading joy and hope to others ("good" is too contained... why are you smiling and breathing today?)

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Everyone is a performer.

This is not necessary malicious or even conscience. Think about getting ready for work or church or any social event. You put on pants. You fiddle with your hair. Brush your teeth. You’ve inherited social cues for participating and interacting with life outside of your home. As you leave your place, you might flash a smile or toss a quick wave to a neighbor or mailman. You exchange how are yous, and if you are a decent human — thank yous and I'm sorrys. None of this makes you a fraud. But you are still a performer in the great dance of life. You’ve learned a role and execute it at some level. 

You skim the surface with chats of weather or sports or the latest tweet. You don’t curse at church or argue with the pastor.  You don’t concern yourself too much with politics or policies, cause that’s just the way things are. You might give constructive feedback, but sandwiched politely between sugary praise and admiration. (Anyone else grimacing at some of these?)

These things are often embedded in our constructs concerning how to belong in the world. Maybe that’s why we are so intrigued when someone disrupts the status quo. We can’t look away. Bieber goes to church. Angelina adopts more children. People make signs and yell at street corners. Women speak up... our ears are perked. 

Jesus flips tables, eats with sinners, blesses prostitutes, calls out the posers...? 

Our way of interacting with the world is no longer working (or has never really worked) and something within us demands expression. We can stuff and suppress and pretend... or we can do something about it. Some expressions are very healthy (seeking counsel, communicating your disruptions and entering into conversations, exposing injustice, experimenting with calling...) and others are more destructive (violence, substance abuse, hiddenness...) You know this. 

But it's never easy or simple. You will share in suffering. 

The most volatile of us all (the ones who will struggle the most with this) might be the super performers... the perfectionists.  

As a recovering perfectionist, I observe that our inclinations toward people-pleasing and task obsession choke out real life and love. Perfectionists create worlds and empires of idealism and judgement in the name of excellence and glory. Their view of life is strangely curved in on itself, with exaggerated importance and pride with one’s personal contributions or detriments to humanity. But nothing or no one is ever good enough, and so there’s always this underbelly of dissatisfaction, striving, and resentment. There is no rest or peace because hope is placed in a fractured system. 

It's messy. Most people will prefer their "I'm good" and endure their private hell and fear of being known. 

Is this as good as it gets?

Humans might have more potential than we imagined. We have great capacity to harm: war, slavery, trafficking, genocide, murder, greed, bad business, exploitation, fossil fuel emissions, deforestation... 

But we also bear the image of God, which follows, an immense potential and capacity to heal. 

And it seems to start with personal, face-to-face interactions.

These interactions may seem small, but imagine the wonderfully powerful subversive nature if we were to change the narrative and each person were to perform "small things" with great love and attention. 

I think of Israelites leaving portions of their fields untouched, so that the orphan, widow, and immigrant can participate in the harvest. I think of hospitality and strangers and big parties. I think of washing dirty feet and wasting expensive perfume. I think of Jesus and the apostles, and even my friends who cast out demons and reset broken bones and restore clouded eyes, often. I think of the people who say they will pray for you, and actually do it, in that moment, and beyond. I think of mothers and fathers who nurture new life and possibility through adoption and orphan care. I think of movers and shakers and marches for freedom, equality, and life. 

I think of that friend in the coffee shop who cut through my “I’m good” with a warm “You don’t have to perform for me.” I think of that moment that unlocked and released something within me. And I think of passing that sentence on to other friends in meeting spaces... and the following communal unraveling, a sigh of relief and deep breath of “finally”  and "now we can move on to the important stuff." 

Try it sometime. 

“You don’t have to perform for me.”

Lean over, look into his or her eyes. A gentle hand on the arm or shoulder:

“You don’t have to perform for me.”

And mean it. (Don't create more problems by giving lip service.)

You probably need to look in the mirror and say it a few times to yourself. And to that light within you that you’ve beaten and flogged and scorned for all these years because you haven’t yet entered the true dance of grace. 

“You don’t have to perform for me.” 

I pray you walk further and deeper into that freedom today. Because once you are free from the charades, the real good stuff begins... 

Go in peace.