Fitting In; Perhaps You Were Designed for Something More
If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.
C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
I have the pleasure on this gray morning to do my keyboard clicking while the sound of my son’s music streams from behind the bathroom door. Uncommon, as his earbuds tend to keep his music tucked away. He doesn’t often share his music, except for preselected playlists intentionally chosen for his audience. Meaningful to me, because it is a contemporaneous glimpse into who he is, a snapshot. Complex mostly, genuinely thoughtful, rarely participating in anything outside of his character. It’s as if he has known his entire life that trading any ounce of himself to fit in is an unworthy trade.
I have so often lived looking in from the outside, an observer rather than a participator. As if the circles I long to enter might swallow me whole. Oh there are times I’ve fit in, maybe when I’ve been at my worst. Alcohol helps, blurring the line between me and we. Popularity, it also helps. Ensuring those in the circle are unable to discern how I feel about stepping in, how much activation energy it requires. How relieved I am when it’s over. Introvert? Yes, absolutely. I think it is more than that. Outside of alcohol and popularity, I think not fitting in is the norm. Well, the norm when you aren’t lost in a big crowd, caught up in the frenzy of a moment, lost in your own dopamine rush.
But still it’s something we long for, to fit in, and to be included. We’ll go so far as to surround ourselves with only like-minded people. We’ll build community and we’ll define other. Our circles are tight, and they are guarded by social status, political affiliation, intellectual savvy, location, and economic muscle. Our longing to fit in is so strong, inclusion is more often defined by exclusion. At the end of it all, we’re left just with ourselves, not quite feeling it, and not quite fitting in, observing more than participating.
I wonder if this is you? Or perhaps, I am alone in feeling the space that separates 7 billion planet people more than I feel their connection? To connect is to belong. We crave connection, yet it is elusive. In a world of connectivity, we fail at connection.
Genesis 1:27, “So God created man in His own image.” Boom, right at the start, we’re told we are made in the image of God. A God who so longs for connectivity that He forsake His one Good Son to have connectivity with us, His raggamuffin children (a bit absurd). A God who so longs to be seen that He scatters the sky with His stars, and awakens us each morning with the sun. A God who so longs to be known, He permanently stamps our being with an aching desire for the same thing. In His image we were created, like Him we were created. Like Him we desire to be connected. Anything less than being connected to Him is just a shadow of belonging.
Maybe wanting to fit in is interfering with the stronger desire for connecting.
The Bible is the most read book in the history of our planet. Jesus Christ, arguably the most popular historical figure of all time. The most popular human to leave broken footprints in the dirt knew what it was like to not fit in. He was disregarded by His hometown. His friends slept while He wept. His pretend friend betrayed Him for money. He was misunderstood. He was sought after for what He could do, and not for who He was. He was publicly ridiculed by teachers of the law, a law which He authored and fulfilled by His own blood. He was forsaken by His Father, so His Father could have connectivity with the likes of us. The likes of us who reject Him everyday. Jesus Christ did not fit in, and yet He connected.
How did Jesus connect with others?
First and foremost, Jesus routinely connected with the Father. Where’s Jesus? He’s off by himself with the Father. Where’s Jesus? He’s in His Father’s house. Where’s Jesus? He’s praying to the Father. If we want real connection with others, we’ve got to be regularly connecting with the Father. Connecting with the Father doesn’t have to be big, or regimented, but it has to be. To be effective, there has to be some discipline to it. It’s got to be one on One time.
Jesus connected with others as He looked outside of His circle to see who needed to be brought in. Jesus tended to humans regardless of their socioeconomic status, their religious affiliation, their gender, and their political beliefs. If we want real connection with others, we’ve got to be watching for people to include. That means people we may not be naturally inclined to include.
Jesus connected with others as He cared for those in need. Jesus went to the broken, the outcasts, the ones no one wanted. If we want real connection, we’ve got to care for those in need. Jesus went to them, we’ve got to go to them.
Jesus connected with others because He loved, relentlessly. Jesus interacted with a young rich man, who ultimately was not willing to give up his life to follow Jesus. Mark writes Jesus looked at the young man and loved him (Mark 10:21). Jesus loved the woman who wept at His feet. He loved Mary Magdalene. He loved Peter, three times asking Peter if he loved him. Jesus looked out at the dopamine induced frenzy of the crowd while hanging heavy on a cross, and He loved them. Jesus loves. If we want real connection, we’ve got to love.
Perhaps fitting in is counterfeit connection, a cheap substitute, an unworthy trade for authenticity. Jesus Christ is the most popular figure in history, because He is Jesus Christ. He did not exchange who He was to fit in. He was the perfect Son of God, traded so we might have true and lasting connection with the Father. The subtle but persistent ache for belonging, is placed intentionally by the Father to draw His ragamuffin children to Himself. That empty space designed to be filled only by connecting to the One who created us in His image is sacred space.
Maybe the young man listening to his morning tunes has it right. Maybe fitting in is nothing to aspire to.
And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!”.
Galatians 4:6 (ESV)
