right

“But I did it all right.”

You know when a phrase arrests you? When it catches in your throat and you can’t even say it out loud through your clenching? Or maybe when simply hearing it causes visceral, choking sobs? Or the silent tears just roll? 

“But I did it all right,” was that phrase for me not that long ago.

I did it all right, and yet I got so much wrong and was wronged along the way. 

I followed what I was supposed to do. I went above and beyond, because that’s what excellence beckons… even requires. Because people are watching. 

When we live in the context of others, it is wise and loving to consider them. But to mitigate every possible misunderstanding that could lead to an assumption of being less than perfect is simply an impossible goal. I do care what others think, in that I care about them. But I just can’t bear the weight of having to prove that I am getting it all right in the eyes of others anymore. And based off their standards of measurement, I in fact, might be getting a lot “wrong” in their eyes. 

So often, getting it all right seems to presume a black and white for each, when maybe what was right and good and true was genuinely so but only for the few. And so often, getting it all right seems to promise results that just can’t be guaranteed. 

But now, I’m finding myself more. Finding the kindness and assurance of the Lord so tenderly, so present. 

Finding I can let go of what wasn’t mine to carry, what wasn’t mine to live under. 

I can bless the good, and reject the bad from it all. Ignoring the hurt of it didn’t make me more resilient, it showed me I was broken when those things were pressed and found untrue, unkind… un-right. 

So instead of pretending it was all right and I did it all right, I’ve thrown myself into the deep end of the lavish kindness and unceasing assurance that was mine all along but that I kept at arm’s length for far too long. 

Being a woman who values kindness and intelligence, which are often not appreciated in the same ways in any given subculture, proves to be a challenge… both for me and those around me. They’re often surprised when I stand my ground or do not fall for false logic or have questions they can’t answer. They thought they had another lady who would just smile and nod. But my sense of justice is too strong. My compassion too compelling. I can’t sacrifice one for the other… I won’t. 

For all the times we think we know people when we don’t, may we pause and get curious. Let them live. Let them answer. Let them change and grow. Stop expecting them to mitigate who they are for our comfort. Together, to cling to what is right and good and true that is so much richer and deeper than any one personal conviction from one time, one place, one subculture. So we can flourish, abiding in Christ, bearing much fruit that will endure. 

Far more concerned with getting as close to the heart of the Father as we can, rather than being perceived as being as right as possible. Because maybe all our “rightness” loses love along the way and we turn into noisy gongs and clanging symbols of contempt. 

Lord have mercy. I got it all right. But in so many ways, I got it all wrong. So now, in the eyes of those who get it all right, I’m going to get it wrong. But find myself rooted and grounded more than ever before. This disorientation reorienting.