Seriously, God...do I need to increase my per day hug count?

"All of my worst ideas always end with me singing hallelujah. I've been saved by grace again." Chris Renzema, "All My Worst Ideas"

First, as a short continuation of last week’s entry—my daughter did not get sick and enjoyed her musical. No broken hearts, but lots of prayer to calm nerves.

How many times have I hugged someone in my lifetime? Let’s say I average one hug a month. Right there, some of you may be wondering what kind of cold-hearted human am I. But for a moment let’s roll with my monthly hug average, times it by my age, round up to the nearest hundred to account for the the run-and-gun hugs at family gatherings, and then add another 100 since having kids does give me way more hugs. This gets me to a whooping 700 times. Where are you on your lifetime hug count?

Today at work in an one minute span I saw one coworker hug another coworker three times after receiving a farewell gift. There was the big greeting hug, which is customary for them, then the presentment of a farewell gift to which led to another embrace. Finally the realization of how special the gift was to the person led to a final third hug. For context, the one initiating the hugging is leaving the company in a week. That individual easily gave out three or more hugs to others throughout the day, so in one day this person accomplished 1% percent of all the hugs I have experienced in my life.

As one can see I am not a big hugger.

I’d hope that most of the people I know could describe me as loyal and caring. Also, that people feel genuine love—Christ’s love—when they are with me or interact with me. It’s the right Christian thing to say and do that I really love others with that kind of selfless and sacrificial love. What I know about myself is that I’m far from this ideal—not because I don’t hug people, but there is some correlation specific to me. To hug someone means you comfortable enough with yourself and have other people in your mind. I’m not winning in either category.

I wouldn’t say I’m some crazy narcist that loves himself only, but I do feel hyper aware of my feelings, worries, and thoughts more often than not, and it comes at a cost when it comes to giving that kind of attention to others. Do I think it is appropriate to equate love with the amount of attention you give only? No, not as a singular thing. I’m an introvert in many ways, and I know introverts can show copious amounts of love to others without spending all their time with others. Would I jump to help a person in need? Absolutely would without hesitation. That is a kind of love. Do I give comfort to others when tragedy strikes? Quite often I have, especially now that I know how it feels to lose someone. That’s love too. But what I’m pointing out about my love for others is a matter of my head and heart space—I just don’t think about others that much. Is that weird? More importantly can I be loving like this?

---

Growing up, I’d get these nasty migraine headaches, and since my mom didn’t like giving me Advil at a young age, I’d have to endure the pain and sleep it off. It was terrible. I became very aware of how my body would feel, and if I felt some kind of ache or pain brewing I drop everything and lie down. This kind of awareness of my body (brewing headaches), general fearfulness as a kid of a given situation (I was super scared of the dark and having nightmares), and later growing up as a pastor’s kid (being aware that many eyes were on my every move) led me to think a lot about myself. I was in self-regulation mode a lot. Not that I’m even remotely a celebrity at any social level, but I would imagine celebrities fall into this situation where they become hyper aware of their body, mind, and perception all the time. So they come off really self-centered because they think about themselves a lot. It doesn’t make it right, but it does feel different when the reason is self-preservation versus uncontrolled ego.

When you think about yourself that much, I think you naturally ignore what others are doing or needing. When I watched my coworkers hug each other over and over again, I could only think about how uncomfortable that would have made me feel. Again, I made that situation about how I would feel. When I don’t think this way, I feel exposed and unsafe because I’m losing gauge of my own body, mind, or perception. That self-gauge has to be 90% on all the time. Why does it have to be an either/or some may ask? I’m not sure. I’ve explained it to others that I feel a lot.

Philippians 2:3 says this:  Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves.

Amen to that, but is what I’m doing selfish or I’m just trying to survive? This is self-preservation for me. Is that wrong?

On the shortlist of people I know who really love others, my dad would have definitely been there. He walked the talk when no one was looking. He was far from perfect, but he loved God and knew his love for him. He truly loved others selflessly. On the flip side of that he was one of the most confident people I know. What I mean is that he really wasn’t all that concerned about his pain (he had terrible sinus and allergies and later cancer, but he trusted God), he prayed and read so much, and he really didn’t care what others thought about him if he was doing the right thing but was so patient and emphatic regardless. Being over himself, he had the head and heart space to love others. What he did was fill his head and heart space with Christ and the Holy Spirit instead of worry about himself all the time. I sometimes wish he did worry about himself a bit more, but yet when he was worried, he was worried about others. For me, getting over myself isn’t about just ego (that’s there too), but believing I’m going to be ok. Things are going to be ok. With Jesus I’m going to be ok. Give me faith!

Maybe this is what “Denying myself” (Luke 9:23) means for me—that I’d trust God is in control, worry a little less about myself, and follow. Love for others as a self-imposed burden has little power. In my worship—fill my mind and heart space with your love and security, so I can love and take care of others in ways that are useful. Amen.

---

• Do your thoughts and feelings about protecting yourself dominate your head and heart space? What or who gets crowded out when you do?

---