“I don’t care.”
I actually said that yesterday. That is an alien phrase for me. Lord knows that I tend to care too much, if that’s possible. Or, maybe, I don’t care in the way I should.
I’ve mentioned in these pages many times that my tendency is to be a “fixer”- of people and things. What that reveals to me about myself is that I’m actually pretty self-serving. If I can fix someone, or at least show that I care, then I can feel better about myself. Maybe that’s some weird form of co-dependency – I’m validated when I reach out to someone I think is dealing with junk, and they respond in gratitude.
That’s kinda sick, y’know?
Let me hasten to say that I do care, deeply, for many people. I’m just continually learning how to express that care without trying to set things right. It’s better for me to simply be around, supportive, than trying to correct things.
So if I’ve ever had personal dealings with you, and I’ve overstepped, forgive me. I’m learning how to best minister.
With that as background, let me revisit yesterday.
I had an occasion to take stock in myself based on some actions I’d taken. I’ll spare you the details. (Actually, it’s none of your business. So there.) It wasn’t that I’d done anything illegal or immoral – far from it – but it was a matter of me recognizing my boundaries. Knowing when to speak, knowing when to be quiet, knowing when to listen. Mostly, though, it was knowing when someone had to face a trial, just them and God, and without me playing assistant to the Holy Spirit.
Then it occurred to me – “I don’t care.”
This is a paradox, because I do care. The epitaph on my tombstone will probably read “All In.”
Where the “don’t care” thought comes in is because of an awareness that in order for me to be a genuine family member, friend, or even acquaintance, I gotta protect myself. I gotta protect my heart. If I end up heartless, for whatever reason (and most likely, it’ll be because I laid it out there one time too many, or for the wrong reasons, or before the wrong person) – I’m sunk. I’m sidelined. I’m a wounded soldier in God’s army.
I’m happy to say that the horrific, dark, unscalable pit I found myself in is much less threatening. Thank you Jesus.
What it’s led me to do, though, is help me determine what my healthy heart should look like. I’m identifying seven personal signs. Maybe these might help you evaluate the state of your own heart. A healthy heart:
1. Can feel emotion. It fully engages in the spectrum of feelings. It isn’t flat-lined.
2. Is mindful and able to engage in the moment. It isn’t distant and aloof. It is present and feeling.
3. Has room for spontaneity, fun, and laughter. It isn’t bitter and shriveled. It enjoys good times.
4. Has compassion for lost and hurting people. It’s willing to appropriately risk itself for others. It’s caring, not callous.
5. Is hopeful and optimistic. It looks forward to the future because it believes that things can and will be better – if not on this side of eternity, at least in the hereafter. It isn’t pessimistic. At worst, it’s painfully realistic.
6. Has energy for people. It enjoys being with others. Note: Remember I’m a full-on introvert. But I do appreciate, enjoy, even need that interaction with others. It sort of has to be on my own terms, or else I have to fake it. Still. Tell me about your life, and give me the unabridged version, and I’m all yours.
7. Has the capacity to hear God’s prompting. It listens for Him. It is not inattentive and closed off. And it responds in obedience.
How about it, pilgrim? How is your heart?
It’s occurred to me that if I don’t care, that can conceivably be a positive thing for my own well-being.
However … I have to surrender to God. It’s a matter of abandoning my own independence, and not put any limits on how He leads me to. care. He’ll show me how. I don’t think I’m off the hook on that one.
Until I learn how to care appropriately, I can’t be who He put me here to be.
Be well.