Goodbye, Good Girl

She's been trailing off in pieces ever since my preteen self took inner inventory and concluded she was pretty well achieved. Now (I fervently hope) she is going en mass. She looks kind of funny, doesn't she--not quite right, somehow? That's because Good Girl is two dimensional. I designed her as a flat surface to hide behind--an Elsie Dinsmore-esque figure whose gravest sins would cause others to laugh at their mildness. She displayed simplicity and wholesomeness like Luisa May Alcott's Old Fashioned Girl. She followed rules to the letter, she went above and beyond, she was sweet and untroublesome, never had a traffic ticket, said yes--to even the hinted expectations of authority figures. No honest criticism could apply to her, although each instance of it would plunge her into an agony of self-examination (because she was so humble, you understand).

I read somewhere to beware of condemning others in my heart, because the behaviour I roll my eyes and shake my head over may well become my own stumbling block. The advice is worthy of note--I have heard my own condemning voice echo back in my direction. I don't mean that it's wrong to confront sinful behavior, but condemnation is another thing entirely. Condemnation weakens the hope of redemption and change; it paralyzes and consigns the defendant to remain just where she deserves.

Sunday I plan to sit at the back of church instead of the front. I intend to come just as I am. Sunday, I will seek and listen but not perform. My smile, when it comes, will be real. I will begin the terrifying process of not hiding. No--that's not it. My life is hidden, but not behind Good Girl. After all, there is only One Who is truly good. And He invites me to share His yoke, wear His righteousness, and abide in His love. My life is hidden in Christ. Lately, I've felt my life to be a white elephant--but Jesus really does want it. My hope is in Him. He is my life. And I hope that the security of His love for me will help me to risk rejection from others--and even, at times, from myself. After all, I won't have recourse to Good Girl anymore.