a la carté kills

How I learned a valuable lesson about self-respect, dating, and relationships.

When I was in college, this girl and I developed a friendship that, through time and conversations, became more. Talking with her on the phone once or twice a week morphed into talking on the phone every single night (pre-text messaging).

Texting on these phones took commitment.

 

We lived in different cities, but within easy driving distance. We'd confide about our life hopes, dreams, funny stories, day-to-day details, worries. We'd known each other for years, knew we had similar values and beliefs. We became each others closest emotional supports.

 

It didn't take much for my heart to want more. She told me I was the best, someone she could trust ... someone she loved. "Wow," I thought. "This seems so good!

 

And it was so good ... save for one detail. One singular detail.

She had a boyfriend.

Of him she spoke some.

 

What she did share with me: she knew they could never work out long-term. He wasn't much for meaningful conversation. He wasn't what she sought for her future. How she had all this time to talk with me while literally dating someone else, I couldn't figure. This unspoken question rattled around my skull: "then whyyyyy are you still with him?" In my uncertainty, I never asked this question. 

 

I reasoned that if I showed myself to be an obvious step up, that she'd ditch her boyfriend.  Then, we could continue what we'd started.

 

So I kept on, allowing myself to grow closer. Talking, sharing life, sharing laughs, sharing dreams. We poured more of our hearts out onto one another. I did my best to ignore the pesky "one detail" (which annoyingly remained a detail). Sooner ... or later, I reasoned, she'd end it with him if I kept sharing pieces of my time, energy, my heart.

How could I have believed this would work? Contrary to the saying, I do not think hindsight is always 20/20 ... but hindsight can offer clarity and perspective that wasn't visible at the time.

Thank God for friends who love us enough to tell us the truth.

 

Thank God for friends who love us enough to say hard truths we must hear.

 

My best friend Matt's wife was (and is) wise beyond her years. In talking with them about this girl and situation, and my hopes for how this would work out, she leveled me with a perspective I hadn't yet heard.

"You are a la carté-ing yourself," she told me. "You should not do this. You're gonna get hurt."

"A la carté-ing ... myself?? What does that mean?" I thought.

 

I knew what 'a la carté' meant: it's a term often heard at restaurants. It refers to a menu or list of items that can be ordered separately, rather than altogether. I hadn't yet heard it about dating, or relationships.

 

"Here's what I mean," she replied. "Right now, you're offering pieces of yourself, in hopes that she'll end up wanting more. But that's not how it should be. God made us to be loved completely, not piecemeal. None of us as whole people are ever too much for one person. Someone should either get all of you, or none of you. That's self-respect. As it stands, she's got you for emotional support and camaraderie, but then there's this boyfriend who's somehow still around. Why would she commit to wanting all of you, and ditching this other dude, if you're available a la carté? Don't devalue yourself, do not a la carté yourself. Connection without commitment is not stable, and you're gonna get hurt."

 

This perspective changed my life, y'all. I'd never heard this from the vantage point of standing up for myself and my worth in an appropriate, respectful, and resolute manner.

It's been more than two decades since I heard this. I share this wisdom a few times a year with people in similar scenarios, and it's absolutely right. If it's true for me, it's gotta be true for you as well.

Don't offer a la carté versions of yourself when it comes to dating relationships.

You're worth way more than that.

the silence of God

The silence of God can unnerve, agitate. You ask God about something, and you wait for an answer.

It's the prayer screamed against a mirror that's fogged with our frustrated breath. It echoes, but no reply. The room is still.

It's the fading ambulance siren as it drives away with a shattered dream. Now what? What now, Lord??

Why would God ever be silent when we call?

There's this story about Jesus. The apostle Thomas (unfairly nicknamed 'doubting Thomas') hears from the others that the risen Lord visited them, and he says, 'Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe' (John 20:25).

A bold statement. A not-unfair statement. He's calling Jesus out.

The next verse (John 20:26): "Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them ... [and] Jesus came and stood among them and said, 'Peace be with you.' Jesus proceeds to respond to, and reply to, Thomas' confusion.

I've read this passage more than once. The perplexing part of this verse (for me) always sits in the first three words:

Eight. Days. Later.

For Thomas, eight days of silence from God.

Imagine playing a game of tag in a pool. You call out 'Marco!' -- only for someone to reply eight ... days ... later ... with 'Polo.'

Imagine leaving the most crucial voice mail, or sending the most important text message of your life, to someone important to you -- and hearing nothing back in the first hour. You wait one hour for the reply text. The call back. The news about the diagnosis. The job opportunity. The grade. The relationship. The future plan. The news.

Then it becomes eight hours of waiting. Then, you fall asleep waiting for a reply to ping your phone.

You wake up the next morning and check -- no notifications.

One day of waiting becomes two.

Why have they not yet replied? Your imagination and nerves imagine every worst-case scenario. You wear yourself out with worry. You cry. You scream. You feel numb at times. You try to stay strong. You can't eat. Your sleep suffers. For seven days.

But then let's flip it.

Say you've known someone for years. The waters of your friendship run deep. These years and the history have built in you both a certainty that you matter to one another.

So when there's a delay in responding, you don't sweat. "My friend won't let me down," you say. "If I haven't heard back, it has to be for a good reason. They'll respond to me when they can." And your friend does get back to you. The silence becomes evidence of a trust, a relationship deep enough to not require instant responses, instant soothing, automatic replies, realtime responses.

What's this built on?

Trust.

Could it be that God trusts you with the silence? Could it be that's God's trying to show you how to trust him more deeply? There's a point -- in every friendship, every relationship, every collaboration -- where the trust gets stretched just a bit more, so that it can handle more.

It's when you've waited a few days to hear back from someone -- but you don't fret -- because you've waited longer for them before, and they've come through. When you loan a friend some money, and you've never loaned them money before ... and then they do pay you back in a reasonable time.

We trust, and give grace to, the silences we experience with our dearest loved ones and friends.

So what can we infer from the daunting, unnerving silence of God? I guess that question has multiple possible answers. Ergo, one possible answer is this: it's possible that God's trusting you with silence because God trusts you, wants that sort of connection with you, that you're able to handle the waiting.

Anyway, as you wait in your silence, give this some consideration.

make your bed, text a prayer, love the day

Committing to life changes feels so daunting. Where should I start? 

It's mentally, emotionally paralyzing to try to answer that question. 

For what it's worth, it helps me to think of the smallest possible change I could make until I figure out the bigger changes. 

Lord, I don't know what big changes to make just yet, but surely I could make a small change -- help me take a tiny step in that direction.

But sometimes, the most minute, minuscule of changes causes giant improvements.

The littlest rock, once removed from your shoe, will remarkably improve how you walk.

The tiniest smudge, once wiped from your glasses, remarkably improves your ability to see.

Sending a text you've put off sending will do wonders to improve how you feel about yourself and your productivity.

Moving your phone away from where you sleep will remarkably improve how rested you feel when you wake up.

For me, I always feel like I could pray more. 

 

ALWAYS. 

 

Yet a friend of mine recently commented that when people asked Jesus about how to pray, Jesus gave them the Lord's Prayer. Which ... is not a long prayer. Jesus also talked to them about the uselessness of heaping empty words into a prayer. 

 

A longer prayer doesn't automatically mean a more valuable prayer.

So maybe short prayers are the point. Like text messages. When you text with close friends, you rarely send a verbose, gotta-scroll-down-a-few-times-to-read-it-all text. 

 

It's short statements. 

 

It's incomplete sentences.

So talk like that with God. Doing a short prayer beats doing no prayer. 

 

And it's a minuscule change to the routine. I could pray while brushing my teeth. Or pray while walking to my car, or stepping into a meeting. Or when I put shoes on, or take them off. Whenever and whatever keeps the dialogue going.

Anyway, adjusting the slightest little routine can alter the course for an entire day. Or week. Or month.

Or life.

I've done an experiment lately: I make my bed just after I wake up. Before I pour myself some coffee, I make the bed.

If only it was this simple

And then: whenever I make or look at my to-do list for the day, I always write 'make bed.' And I strike a triumphant line through it to signal its completion.

 

Just helps set a tone for the day, I've learned.

Commit to some incremental adjustment. It often precludes huge strides forward.

We all have giant, gargantuan dream lists of what we'd like to see be different in our life. To lose weight. Renew our faith life with God. Smile more when we meet people. Stop snacking after midnight. Talk back to our anxiety to let it know who's boss. Pursue the dream. Stop obsessing over perfection. Talk to the crush. 

It all seems so out of reach. Where to start?

Start by making your bed. Start with a short prayer. 

Also, what other little step(s) can you take?

but have you asked about it?

Have you asked God for what you want?

Sure, you've talked about it ad nauseam ... to yourself. To your friends. Again to yourself. Searched social media for reels about what you want. Maybe you've talked about it with God.

But have you asked??

Ask. 

 

Put yourself out there, and ask.

It's a simple step, but too often glossed over. We want, we want, we want, we want want want want want want. Wanting isn't always wrong; it isn't always right. Depends on what we want. Yet we scheme, strategize, plot, maneuver, overthink, obsess to get what we want. 

Why should we ask God for what we want? What does asking God do for us?

1) It reminds us that so much is out of our control. We're not in charge.

2) It's vulnerable to ask. It means we might hear a 'no.' And some of us would rather do anything than risk hearing a 'no.' Truth be told, sometimes what we want is something we know we know is not good for us, that would do us harm. But we still want it. Hearing no can hurt.

 

3) Asking can show how much and why we want something. When we have to ask, we may have to explain why we want what we want. Luke 11 has this parable about asking God for something. "...yet because of his persistence he will rise and give him whatever he needs (Luke 11:8)" 

You know this to be true. You ask your parents one time for something but never bring it up again, they would reasonably infer that didn't want it too badly. So it wouldn't matter much if you did not receive it. 

But if you asked. And you asked again. And you asked again. And you talked about it, heard questions, answered questions, and still kept asking. What does this demonstrate? It shows that this is something you really, really want. It matters enough for you to show persistence. 

So ... what do you have to ask God for? What do you want?

Speak up, and ask. And keep asking.