Lately, I get a lot of questions about why I haven’t been writing on my blog. I have a lot of pat answers, usually something about being crazy busy, but if I’m being truly honest, some of it has to do with the transparency that comes with writing a real, raw blog post. We live in a world where perceived image is king and having flaws, weaknesses, past mistakes, and vulnerabilities are not acceptable. A Fakebook (aka: Facebook) world encourages us to untag, cover up, and delete anything that makes us look bad from from public view. With a little skillful planning we can be the person we want to be publicly. Moreover, it seems we crave this kind of unreality as we pay greatly for and value the images our actors and public figures provide. On the other hand, watch out for image busters as they are cruel and punitive. You may even be punished for life, especially if your image gets attached to something politically incorrect or unfashionable.
Present case in point-- Paula Dean. Her public image was obliterated in one fell swoop when she admitted to using the n word in the past, and on occasion engaging in racist humor. In a moment of candor under oath, she effectively destroyed her sweet Southern image of perfection. It--her image--was the foundation of her multi-million dollar empire. Almost immediately, the people who had ridden her coattails to fortune realized they could no longer sell her new, tarnished image and they turned their backs on her faster than you could say, "deep fried ice cream."
Okay, let’s be real. Paula Dean was born in Albany, Georgia in 1947. Given that she grew up in a time and place known for its ignorant and extreme racism did anyone assume it could never hold a place in her heart? That her character and attitudes were totally above reproach in every possible way? Did anyone honestly believe that a woman who hid a cigarette habit and Type 2 diabetes from the public for years had no other secrets? No other possible skeletons in her closet?
Here’s the unspoken truth--Paula's image made us believe that cooking her way could make us happy. Watching Paula laugh and smile and cook on screen she made us believe--and oh, how we wanted to believe--that sticks and sticks of butter and fried foods would be a path to joy. For a moment we could be cooking in her homey kitchen, enjoying pure deliciousness with laughter, and nothing else would matter. And for crying out loud, we have a rough life, we deserve it. Butter and mega calories, bring 'em on baby! I feel so much better about my life just thinking about that kind of fun.
Now, just for the record, I am not minimizing the use of the n word. It’s wrong on every level, but that wasn’t Paula’s real crime, the one that got her fired. Her real crime was tarnishing her image. The one we loved. The one we wanted. The one we needed to believe if we wanted to continue to idolize an ordinary person and make our unhealthy choices look good. Image sells, convinces, and persuades, and culturally, image is far more important than reality.
Now, just for the record, I am not minimizing the use of the n word. It’s wrong on every level, but that wasn’t Paula’s real crime, the one that got her fired. Her real crime was tarnishing her image. The one we loved. The one we wanted. The one we needed to believe if we wanted to continue to idolize an ordinary person and make our unhealthy choices look good. Image sells, convinces, and persuades, and culturally, image is far more important than reality.
Actors and image-
Along those same lines, just last week I read a review for the movie, This Is The End, described by The Arizona Republic as, “end-times satire, profane, but devilishly funny.” Curious about a movie where “some people are beamed up into the heavens by a bright light,” and touted as a satire of Hollywood, celebrity culture, and self-centered hedonism I read on. A couple of sentences in the review caught my attention. “The stage is set early on, when someone says they will be fine, because who do they rescue first? Actors. Because they make people feel better.”
Yes, it’s true. We are a culture where actors make us feel better. We love and adore images of unreality and idolize those who create them for us. We especially value ones based on pure fantasy and wishful thinking. Super heroes, super models, and super sized portions dazzle and delight us. We reward them handsomely and seek to be like them in every way possible.
The dark side of our images-
There is a heavy price we pay for worshiping images though. It is the skeleton in our collective closet. It’s dark and deep and destructive. Our obsession with images, and creating them for ourselves, lead us to present ourselves in ways that deny our true selves. Authentic humanity is against the rules so we mask our insecurities, mistakes, and struggles. We smile and stay polite, wearing our best Fakebook image, churchy image, or whatever floats-your-boat image. We’re on it, and we are ever so good at it.
Moreover, we lie to ourselves about the choices we make and drown in the downstream of their consequences. We eat too much, drink too much, and sleep too little. Then, we pop pills to wake up, to sleep, to have sex, and to mask the demons of depression and anxiety that reside in our souls. We smile and stay polite, wearing our best Fakebook image, never telling those around us we struggle or presenting our flaws to the world. Of course, we can’t tell other people the truth, because we don’t even tell the truth to ourselves.
An alarming rise in suicide among adults, as well as prescription pain pill abuse and addiction, continue to make their mark on our society. We are the first generation who may live shorter lives than our parents because we can’t stop eating, drinking, spending, and using anything and everything to live large and numb our aching hearts. We ignore the inconvenient truth--our choices have consequences. All of them. And in the process we have lost touch with ourselves, as well as authentic relationships, nature, real food, the value of rest, and the total acceptance and love offered by a true and living God.
An alarming rise in suicide among adults, as well as prescription pain pill abuse and addiction, continue to make their mark on our society. We are the first generation who may live shorter lives than our parents because we can’t stop eating, drinking, spending, and using anything and everything to live large and numb our aching hearts. We ignore the inconvenient truth--our choices have consequences. All of them. And in the process we have lost touch with ourselves, as well as authentic relationships, nature, real food, the value of rest, and the total acceptance and love offered by a true and living God.
So why don’t I write more often?
Here’s my truth--I have cultivated a lot of wisdom and things from my journey with God that have enriched my life and would actually enrich yours as well. I really do have a lot to share with you that might benefit or edify you in some way. My experiences and advice could help you avoid mistakes, regrets, or dumb choices. I could make you think about things in a new way, but that requires I keep it real. I have to spill the beans and tattle on myself and the world around me. I have to pull the curtain back on the Wizard of Oz, and see he’s just a guy (or in this case just a girl) behind the curtain. I would have to destroy my image. There, I’ve said it. My carefully crafted Fakebook image would have to go.
You would need to know that I’m flawed beyond words. I still argue with my husband and kids from time to time, much too loudly (dear God, please don’t tell me the neighbors heard us!) An occasional cuss word still comes out of my lips, and I can be miserably careless with my words. Add impatient, vain, and selfish to the list, and that’s just a start. Skeletons in my closet? Oh, please don’t even go there.
Bottom line, I’m just a total messed up sinner saved by the graceful, unmerited and unfathomable kindness of Jesus. I am not an image, “religious ” person, church lady, shrink, or anyone you would want to copy. That image of perfection belongs to God, and God alone. When I really let that sink in, it’s a huge relief. I can let Him be Him, and I can just be me. And it’s the strangest thing, but He doesn’t drop me (or you) when I mess up my image. He loves me right where I’m at.
I will add this, I’ve discovered God loves us too much to let us stay in our messes; He wants to fix our problems and He knows how to fix them. So, invited, He comes into our hearts and changes things. He softens those hard edges and shows us better ways to live. But He never leaves when our image gets tarnished.
So, here it is--if you want to read blog posts by someone like me, I'll try to keep it honest. Raw. Real. I'll share with you the path I've been on and where it's led me--good and bad-- and you may just learn something in the process. But, if you need my image to make you feel good you better check in with Hollywood and mainstream culture. I understand they’re really good at creating fantastic and unrealistic images for you to savor, but just don't forget, those images are a lie and in the end they'll rob you blind.
So, here it is--if you want to read blog posts by someone like me, I'll try to keep it honest. Raw. Real. I'll share with you the path I've been on and where it's led me--good and bad-- and you may just learn something in the process. But, if you need my image to make you feel good you better check in with Hollywood and mainstream culture. I understand they’re really good at creating fantastic and unrealistic images for you to savor, but just don't forget, those images are a lie and in the end they'll rob you blind.
