Presenting Our Lives

I love to read celebrity biographies.

Not the salacious, glorifying-sex-and-drugs tomes of rockers and unreformed bad boys, but insightful memoirs from troubled (Jodie Sweetin, Tori Spelling) and beloved (Dick Van Dyke, Betty White) stars who have a real grasp of their own identities in the weird world that is Hollywood.

I like seeing how the other half (tenth?) lives.

Their thoughts often mirror those of everyday folk, and I've been surprised to find just how much I have in common with some of them.

But no passage has ever resonated with me quite like the one I read this morning.

Doris Roberts, the meddling matriarch from Everybody Loves Raymond, describes her feelings when her son went off to college in her autobiography, "Are You Hungry, Dear?"

I remember the mourning I went through when my son Michael went off to college and I faced the realization that, from that moment on, he would always be a guest at our house, even though he would never be allowed to use the guest towels. We would never again have that casual intimacy that comes from living together as a family and knowing all the little ins and outs of each other's day. From then on, he would be presenting his life to us, describing it, instead of living it with me... 

Having experienced my own empty nest, I understood. And I was mesmerized with the term presenting.

As with anything that grabs my attention so strongly, I put the book down and reflected on her wording.

He would be presenting..

That's exactly what grown kids do. At least mine.

I know about what they tell me only. Or what the others tell me about them!

It's what all kids want growing up, for their parents to only know the good, but never the bad.

Once you leave home that goal is attainable.

I've learned about cross-country vacations, job promotions, and explosive sibling fights while sitting around a holiday meal months later.

Things I would've been a part of, I'm now just a spectator to.

And the things they don't present, I will never even know about.

It's the same way on the streets.

They present the life, the story they want you to see.

Some are deliberately deceitful (the pair of sisters I wrote about a few months ago are in jail again) and some are just deceiving themselves (Scooter is in a new camp waiting on SOMETHING to change), but they only show you what they want to.

In a way, we are all like that. We put our best face forward.

I had an interesting encounter yesterday with presentation.

I went with Mary and her limited-English-speaking father to the hospital yesterday so Mary could have some tests run.

It was 6:30 in the morning and we were greeted by a less-than-enthusiastic billing clerk. She huffed and puffed as I translated and she filled out mounds of first-time paperwork. At one point, Mary's dad had to go back to the car to get her social security card.

While waiting she received a phone call from home in which she yelled and cursed and hung up on the caller.

She then turned back to me and asked if I was Mary's mother.

"Oh, no ma'am. I'm the pastor's wife. I'm just helping them with the paperwork."

The change wouldn't have been any more obvious if she'd have physically put on a costume and mask.

"Ohhhh, okay sweetie." She smiled and began entering information. "Just one second."

Mary's dad came back and handed her the document. His eyes were huge as he took note of the Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde transformation.

"Thank you, sir." She hummed along as she completed her task, thanking us and then escorting us down the hall to the lab.

"What happened?" he whispered as soon as she was out of earshot.

"I told her I was the pastor's wife," I shrugged, not sharing that my heart had been hurting for her.

While some might have seen a fake woman, someone fronting...I saw someone who feared and revered the Lord deeply but was caught up in anger and hurts that had her bound.

But herein lies the biggest problem we have today.

People want to present their lives to God.

And they only want Him to see what they want to show.

Here it is, God. I give you everything. My life, my marriage, my sins. I admit to my affairs and I repent. (But I don't want to talk about that secret pornography.)

Or, Here, God. Take the drugs. They've ruined my life. I've lost my family, my home. Take it all. (But not the beer. I can handle that. I don't need help from You with that.)

Or...Lord, take the anger and the bitterness. All that hate in my heart. I'll forgive everyone. (Except for X, you know I can never let that go so don't ask me.) 

The problem is, He sees it all.

And you can't surrender all and hold back any part.

A five-year-old can understand the concept of ALL better than some adults. If I give you all of a cookie yet keep a bite, I haven't given all of it to you.

It's the same with God.

Give it ALL to Him. Don't just present what you want to.