Walls of Jerusalem
photography by Anthony Kaetzel
My heart is heavy. Perhaps better said... my heart feels pregnant. About to give birth. And it feels like it is in labor pains. And I am hoping this post will give it birth... whatever it is. That I might move on and forget about the pain.
I feel like I am screwing up a lot lately. Whether I am or not is immaterial to the fact that I am getting the impression others think I am. Well, not just the impression.
Just yesterday, I received a private Facebook message that encouraged me to keep my business to myself. That my numerous Facebook posting was overkill. And that the encouragement was sent in love.
Can I just say, OUCH! I have had this request before. Many times. But normally from men. Who actually do not use Facebook with any regularity. And actually find Facebook to be a waste of one's time. And I am easily able to move on from their comments and chidings. Realizing that they are not interested in relationships... quite like I am. Or realize the true capability of Facebook as a tool to mentor others in small ways. Or encourage those who are depressed. Or connect with those who I would not have the opportunity... time... or place to connect with.
I get it. They are different than me. I don't totally understand them. And they don't totally understand me. Point taken. I do my best to not take it personally. Because actually they are showing their contempt towards Facebook and not me.
But not this time. This time I was sent a direct message. And it is personal.
Now, mind you... I want you all to speak into my life. I want you to feel the freedom to rebuke me in love. To tell me if I spoke out of turn. Or if I hurt someone's feelings. Or hurt your feelings. Stepped on toes. Or even to tell me when I have spinach in my teeth. Or toilet paper on the bottom of my shoe. I want to know. I want to be open to that...
But I think there should be a reminder... that if you want to speak into my life... If you feel it is necessary to come alongside me and rebuke me or re-direct me... even in love... that you at least know my middle name. I mean if you don't know my middle name. You don't know me. You don't really know what or who I am about. Most likely it means that I may not hear what you are saying to me without being easily offended or hurt or wonder if everyone else out in the world is thinking that of me.
But if you know my middle name. Well, you might just know me well enough to know that Facebook... for the time being... is part of who I am. And how God has called me. And so the response I wrote was this:
Sorry about that! But this is what I do. It is a ministry to me. I feel that staying transparent and available is part of who God made me to be. I totally understand if you would want to un-friend me or you can choose that you only see my important updates. Otherwise, I'll be posting as much as I feel compelled to... God has allowed me to use FB to touch lives across the country (and actually across continents) especially in regards to depression. And I feel that is more important than the number of postings I do in a day. I hope you understand and receive this in the love it was sent.And I haven't decided if I will post on Facebook that I wrote this blog. Because the response was a bit surprising to me...
I won't unfriend you because of your postings. This is a beautiful way for God to use you but other additional postings of food, etc make for extra postings. Perhaps that could be taken into consideration.So friends... I guess if I have to choose... if I have to take into consideration... my other additional postings of food, etc...
Well, I think you better start asking me my middle name.