Getting Rid of the Lines

Fifteen years ago, I went on an interview for a writing position in center city Philly. After my interviewer had spent some time looking through my portfolio, she laid one of my pieces on the table in front of me, and asked if there were anything I’d change about it.

Now it’s important to note that this was many years before God reached out His hand and offered me the sacred opportunity to begin finding freedom from my perfectionist thinking, and walk through life authentically with Him. So in that season of life, I was well versed on interview tactics, such as how to answer the “What’s your greatest weakness?” question in a strategic manner that would essentially highlight a strength. Exude confidence without sounding arrogant – I knew the drill.

And when it comes to my writing, I’ve always been a perfectionist. Not just with the words, but with their context of design and presentation as well. Even since I’ve started blogging, I’ve had to try very hard – to NOT try! (Oh yes, God surely smiles when I have those conversations with Him. Frequently.) So like any other piece of mine, the piece that my interviewer laid on the table I had certainly worked through with a fine tooth comb ad infinitum.

But there was something about the way I designed this piece that seemed like a stellar idea when I started, but ended up being something I didn’t like at ALL when it was wrapped up. My use of lines.

I had created a thick line or bar under each of the subheadings. And during this early season as a writer, my appreciation for simplicity in life began to emerge in my writing. And that meant lots of white space, lots of room to breathe on a page. And for me, it also meant implementing a minimal-to-no use of lines. (I’m actually incredibly line averse now. That's right, I’m quite skilled at going from one extreme to the other, thankyouverymuch.)

So back to the actual interview. When she asked me what I would change about that piece, I broke my own rule {at the time} by revealing my humanity and gave her an immediate answer:

I’d get rid of all the lines.

It was completely out of character for me to be so transparent in an interview. But oh, what a foreshadowing of what was to come. Because you know what? It recently occurred to me that I’m making the very same change here on my blog. I’m getting rid of the lines . . .

In my early posts, like blogophobia and i am the older brother, I got my line feet wet. I had seen other bloggers strikethrough their words in order to say what they really felt, but what most people wouldn't want to admit. And the words in strikethrough always offered me a great “I can so relate to that!” laugh. They still do.

So after feeling a little more comfortable in my strikethrough skin, I found it a handy tool as I struggled to take a retrospective look back on 15 years in The Fixer-Upper Marriage. I was able to share my struggles – safely behind the lines.

And then came my strikethrough frenzy in because pride cometh before the fender bender. Apparently, there was no holding me back at that point. I mean really, just look at it – it’s practically the attack of the strikethrough font! So much wrestling through thoughts and feelings that I shared . . . well, sort of. At a safe distance, of course {behind the lines}.

And I didn’t realize it at the time, but just like the piece that my interviewer laid on the table 15 years ago, that blog entry was the one that the Lord laid on the table in front of my heart, and asked me how I’d like to make my writing better.
Because I started getting rid of the lines.

Okay, so I still pulled ‘em out a couple months later when I shared my less-than-stellar mom moment in flying shoes & dysfunctional status quos.

But for the most part, the lines are disappearing here at Truth in Weakness.
I’m not hiding behind the strikethrough, anymore.

And I don’t know about you, but just like I love lots of white space on a page, I am loving the emotional breathing space that we’re gaining as I step out from behind the lines!
Room to exchange even more freedom together.

But it's hard to get rid of the lines, isn't it? To risk being that vulnerable? Solid yellow lines get cemented into our hearts telling us that we're only safe within the lines (or behind them). So out of fear of our soul colliding with another and ending up crushed in pieces on cold asphalt, we do not cross.

But I've said it before, and I'll say it again:
The best of friendships are based on truth, not pretense, and offer a safe place to be real and vulnerable.

However, I've also reminded us that as we boldly take steps toward authenticity, we are not defined by how others respond to us in our vulnerability. Our identity must be anchored in Christ alone or else this whole transparency thing becomes one big threat.

So what lines are you still hiding behind, friend? In what areas of your life is it hard to let go of the lines? Oh, how I understand. Because I still have my own lines in life. But with my soul resting safely in the loving arms of Jesus, I’m continuing to get rid of them.
One strikethrough at a time.


Linking up with Beholding Glory for Faith-Filled Friday