Pursued, Known, Loved

My church had its annual Christmas party this weekend, something I had been wanting to attend but hadn't had the chance to yet. This year, though, my husband graciously agreed to run our son's birthday sleepover, and the other kids were taken care of, so I was free to finally experience the fun. What I didn't expect, though, was for God to use that event, and two amazing friends, to remind me of some very special gifts He gives His people through the Savior we celebrate during Christmas.

When that big night finally arrived, I was ready. I had bought my white elephant gift (one I actually really wanted myself!), found a cute and festive outfit to wear, and dropped my other kids off with their childcare. I left home on a high simply because I was finally out of the house and had an entire night to myself! As I got closer to the church, though, I was taken aback by a growing feeling of anxiety. I tend to get social anxiety every once in a while, but this time it didn't make much sense; this was my church! I know and love these people, and had been looking forward to this party for weeks now. Still, the fact remained that I was struggling with a lot of uncertainty and felt suddenly very insecure and uncomfortable in my own skin. When I arrived and saw how many people were actually at this event, my low-level anxiety quickly began to snowball into a more intense fear. Still, I weaved through the crowd, set my gift beneath the Christmas tree in the center of the room, and wandered over to the drink table.

"Maybe having something to hold will distract me," I reasoned with myself.  I got a warm drink and tried to force myself to socialize, smiling at people who passed by, saying hello and making small talk with a few of my fellow party-goers. I really wanted to make this thing work, and was using all of the tools I had learned to try to break myself out of this anxiety cycle. As I leaned against the wall, though, sipping my coffee and taking the atmosphere in, something very akin to panic suddenly hit me. It was like a tidal wave of fear smashed into me and swept me away, to the point that my emotions became physical symptoms: I couldn't get a good breath, my heart was pounding, and I felt suddenly nauseous. 

"I need to get out of here."

I pulled myself away from the wall, pushed through the crowd, and headed for the door. At first I thought I would just take a moment to breathe outside away from the noise and people, recollect myself, and try again. But as I got into my car and waited for that awful panic to ebb away, one thought latched itself around my heart: "I can't do this." I needed to leave. 

Part of me felt completely relieved at the thought of just getting to escape the challenge, but another felt so disappointed and frustrated; after all of the work God had done in me in the last year, and all of the things we'd been through, why was something as simple as a Christmas party still such a struggle? Where was the confident, happy "me" I knew was trying to make more of an appearance lately (and who I also happen to really like?) 

Still, just the thought of trying to go back into that party sent my heart racing again, so I took out my phone to text two of my friends there and explain that I had to leave, then I started the car and drove off. I was crying as I left the parking lot, still struggling in the battle between wanting to overcome and enjoy the night, but truly being unable to make myself go back.

I had barely gotten a minute down the road when my phone started ringing. I saw that it was Nicole, one of the friends I had texted, and felt my heart sink. 

"Uh oh. She's going to try to get me to come back. And I can't. But that will make her sad. This. Is. The. Worst!"

 In the time it took me to pull myself together a bit more and find a parking lot to stop in, I had missed her call. I considered just letting it all go, but my sense of social etiquette won out, and I called her back. 

She answered on the first ring and simply demanded, "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Nicole. I left."

"What?! No, are you joking??"

"No! I'm not! I'm parked at the library."

"NO! No way, no, come back!"

"NO. Nicole, I can't. No no no no." (For some reason the only word I could manage to say over and over was "no.")

"YES! Yes. Come back.You will love it, I promise. You can do this."

"No, I can't!" And then I started crying again. I was so frustrated with myself, but I couldn't help it. I was torn by my desire to not disappoint my friend and the intense anxiety I had at the thought of going back. "It's not that I don't want to!" I tried to explain, "I just physically can't! I'm going to throw up if I go back."

"But WHY? Please, Mary, please come back. This is exactly what happened to me before, and trust me, you'll just really regret it if you don't come back! You have to come back, I'm standing outside here, waiting for you!"

Even in that moment, in spite of my anxiety and emotion, I realized something pretty amazing: my friend was showing me the beautiful truth that I was wanted. It mattered that I was gone; she cared that I wasn't there, and she was being very (very) clear in communicating that to me. This was the first gift from our Savior that God showed me that night: He wants us. He cares very much when His people have wandered away, and He doesn't just let that go. He actively pursues us and doesn't give up, just like my awesome (albeit stubborn) friend was showing me on the phone.

Nicole and I went back and forth for a while, me crying and her alternating between pleading with me to come back and semi-threatening me, but we were at a complete stalemate. Both of us can be very tenacious, and we honestly probably would have stayed stuck in that conversation, simply saying "no" back and forth to each other for hours, if Nicole hadn't pulled in her secret weapon.

"Alright," she said, "Here's Meghan. Talk to her."

"NO!" and a whole new wave of tears started again. "NO! No no no no no!" (I'm not very eloquent when I'm panicking.)

Again, I was rather bewildered by the level of fear that rose up at that moment; Meghan, like Nicole, is a very good friend of mine that I love dearly. It made no sense for me to be feeling such panic at the thought of her getting on the phone. After thinking it through, though, I realize now why I was so afraid: Meghan really knows me. We've been friends for several years now, and have been through quite a bit in that time. We've done life together; she knows about my anxiety, and also when she should push me to overcome that struggle, and when it's just too much for me to handle in the moment (FYI she usually leans toward "pushing me to overcome it"). It is both an amazing blessing and terrifying vulnerability to have somebody know me that well. If I really dig deep and think back to that moment in the parking lot, that was the source of my fear as Meghan took the phone; as much as I love and trust her, that level of vulnerability felt extra scary in my anxious state that night. I think that what it boiled down to was: "Is she going to use her knowledge of me against me somehow?"

But the way God responded to that fear still makes me tear up.

As soon as she got on the phone, and I heard the calm kindness in her voice, my anxiety began to dissipate.

"Hey. What's happening? What's so scary about this thing for you?" There wasn't a trace of judgement or impatience in her tone; she was genuinely asking the questions she knew would help me open up and talk through things with her, something she's done for me many times before. So even though I felt silly and was frustrated that I was still crying, I told her exactly what I was afraid of, rattling things off a trifle hysterically, and ended by saying, "I can't go back to the church like this, all crazy and with mascara all over my face! I don't want everyone to see me like this and have to try to explain it to them all."

Her response was as calm and kind as ever, but also showed no sign of letting me cave in to those fears. "Well then, you just come back here, and you go to the bathroom, splash some water on your face, and then sit in the back row next to me." Then she added temptingly, "And then you eat the chocolate cookies I brought. I made a whole bunch more of those ones we made yesterday."

That's how the conversation went: me explaining my fears and giving all of the excuses I could, and her patiently listening and then calmly sharing the logical response and plan of action (complete with promises of chocolate, and a few silly jokes for good measure.) She used her knowledge of me to gently remind me of truth, make me laugh, and encourage me...all while still holding me to the standard of not giving in to my fear. And that was the next gift that God helped me understand more that night: Our Savior knows us intimately, but He doesn't use that knowledge against us, to manipulate, punish, or shame us. He made us and knows us better than we know ourselves, and He uses that insight for our good: to help, encourage, and grow us. Meghan reflected that beautifully to me that night, and it filled my heart. 

Then these two amazing friends of mine teamed up, and it was then that I knew I was a goner. Meghan had listened, joked, and bribed enough to calm me down, and she knew my sense of humor was kicking back in. "Ok, you need to come back now, cuz it's freezing out here, and we've made a pact that we are not going back inside until you show up."

"What? NO! You can't do that! You've been sick!"

"I know!" she said, and then coughed for good measure, "I'm catching pneumonia out here all because you won't come back! I'll bring it up for years to come: Hey, remember that time I caught pneumonia all because you wouldn't come back to the Christmas party?"

"Ooooh that's a low blow, Meghan!" I chided her, laughing. 

Then Nicole piped up in the background, "Yes! And also, we are going to take off an article of clothing for every minute it takes you to come back!"

"Ok, ok. I'm starting my car. I'm coming back. Just go inside!"

"NO. We made a pact."

(Are you seeing a theme of stubbornness in me and my friends?)

I pulled out of the parking lot and headed back toward the church, not really because I truly believed my friends would let themselves freeze or get sick, but because their show of resolved affection for me impacted me so much, and I cared more about showing them gratitude for it than I did about my anxiety.

Meghan stayed on the phone with me as I drove back and wove an elaborate tale of them both standing barely-clothed in front of the church, catching deadly diseases as they shivered in the cold. 

"Oh please," I giggled, "Yeah right. You guys are so silly."

But when I finally got parked and came walking up, I was stunned to find them both standing outside of the front doors of our church, barefoot, wearing nothing but jeans and tanktops, with their sweaters, shoes, and socks in a pile on the ground. For a moment I just stared at them in shock, and then we all burst into hysterical laughter.

It was at this timely moment that the children's director of our church came out. She looked at my half-naked friends, their pile of clothes, and then me. Then she simply shook her head and said, "You guys need to get inside or you're going to miss the white elephant number drawing."

We fell into a new round of hysterics as my friends scrambled to re-clothe themselves, and we went into the church together.

As the evening went on, God used my friends to remind me of one last gift found in our Savior:
His incredible, caring love, and the lengths He went to in order to show that to His people. These wonderful ladies were a small reflection of the immense love Jesus has for us:

They were willing to stand outside of our church in 40 degree weather, barely clothed, to prove how much they loved me and wanted me back.
Our precious Savior willingly bore a horrible death and took our sins on Himself to share that same message. Romans 5:8 tells us, "but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

My friends found me a seat where I would feel less overwhelmed by people, and stayed close by to provide the security I needed to feel calm and secure.
Our amazing Lord promised, "I will never leave you or forsake you." (Hebrews 13:5).

They gave up their preferences to make sure I had a good time that night (things like sitting where they may not have originally planned to, walking up with me to get food even though they had already eaten, and spending the time focused on helping me have a good time instead of on just enjoying the party themselves).
Jesus gave up everything for His people, forsaking His rightful place in Heaven, even willingly facing separation from the Father in order to give us life to the full. Philippians 2:6-8 explains, "though he was in the form of God, (He) did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross."

That Christmas party itself was very fun, and I'm so glad I went back. The best part by far, though, was that I got to see a clearer image of our amazing, loving Savior through the lens of my two wonderful friends. It reminded me of Who we celebrate during this season, and of the many reasons His birth was such a gift to His people. As we near Christmas and wrap up this year, I hope this is something you all can reflect on, too. Jesus's birth means we have Someone who loves us too much to let us wander away; Someone who knows us more than we can comprehend, and uses that knowledge to bless and help us; and Someone who went to incredible lengths to show His love for us. He is truly the greatest Gift we could ever hope to receive.