In the shower, my singing voice rocks the house. I pound out lyrics like I’m the real deal and don’t even doubt that I’m hitting every note.
Tonight, my husband, by virtue of living with me, was stuck being my audience as I sang the same song over and over like an angst ridden teenager. Something in my heart was craving permission to be rebellious, or at least free to not apologize. For anything.
So, in the back half of the Harvey house, Natalie Maines from the Dixie Chicks made a guest appearance in the form of a 5’4″ unabashedly loud tone deaf brunette, singing “Not Ready to Make Nice” no less than thirty times in the time span of an hour….or so.
Even if you’re only mildly interested in country music, you remember how the Dixie Chicks dropped off the map after they criticized former president George Bush’s decision to invade Iraq and that they followed it up with a nude photo cover for the magazine, Entertainment Weekly. It would be an understatement to say they were bold as they exited country music stardom.
And years later, they write this song that I can’t get enough of. As the group recounts an American public’s reaction to their freedom of speech, they reflect on the struggle to forgive and forget.
“I know you said
Can’t you just get over it?
It turned my whole world around
And I kinda like it.”
Tonight, I’m thinking through so many moments when I chose to feel guilty for something that didn’t have anything to do with me. Or how, in a few certain relationships, I allowed myself to be abused and scared only to be ridiculed and silenced by the abuser. I was told not to rebel. I was told to just get over it.
And I think about the children I’m raising to be nice, kind, respectful, loving, peace-making, God-fearing individuals….
I think it’s time to reevaluate some things around here.
Because the rebellion in my heart that allows me to deny culture as my religion and follow Christ as my Savior has to do with me choosing to run from the people pleasing that comes from needing to be nice, kind, respectful, and peace-making all the time. Fearing God and fearing man, after all, are not the same thing. And they never were. Not in the garden. Not with Moses. Not with Paul. Certainly not with Christ.
Somewhere along the way in my walk with Christ, I started combining all the niceness and goodness and politeness together onto a canvas that was supposed to end up looking like “a good Christian mom.” In the end, the image ended up looking like someone I don’t even know.
I’m so very thankful for a Father who doesn’t ask me to look at my past and just get over it. Instead, he repeatedly invites me to spend time with Him and sort this life out one prayer at a time. Embracing how he made me, rebellion and all, has turned my whole life around, and I kinda like it.