I'm If you've seen the classic Pretty in Pink, then you know exactly who this is:
That is one of my most favorite characters in the whole wide world. That, friends, is Duckie.
Some friends of mine were determined to expose me to all the great 80s classics, including but not limited to: Say Anything, The Breakfast Club, 16 Candles, and of course, Pretty in Pink. It was a necessary education. I didn't know it until the movie was over, but there was every reason to be Team Duckie, and I had just been recruited.
Those of us who are Team Duckie know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he is the one who should have gotten the girl. I still throw things at the tv at the end of the movie. He was the one that loved her all along. He knew her, he accepted her, he was always going out of his way to show her she was special. And in the end, she chooses the rich guy who treated her like dirt and then kind of apologized. Terrible. Duckie got the short end of the stick, and if you come away with anything from the movie it's the fact that the now existing Team Duckie is a force to be reckoned with. Who messes with Duckie? Nobody, that's who.
Then something terrible happened. Some of the team members got Duckies of our very own.
Oh...oh no.
I have been fortunate to find friends who despise mean girls. So it's no easy task when we've been presented with someone who may have feelings for us, and we have every God-given reason to be attracted to and...we just....can't...make it happen. It isn't there. We can't reciprocate. No matter how many chances are handed out and no matter how many argumentative inner dialogues we may have with our selves, we just can't change it. And we know that isn't how it's supposed to be. In real life, the Duckies of the world are all supposed to come into their own and find their way, and then they win! That's how it works! That's what all the after school specials told us! And that is how we've convinced ourselves to pull through high school--the nerds fight past puberty and are rewarded for all the times they were the bigger person during the teasing and torment. But it doesn't always happen that way. Things occur. Stuff changes. This test is different from the one we studied for. We can't choose Duckie and those who represent him. It's a sad day when a girl has to look at herself in the mirror and see 16 year old Molly Ringwold staring back at her (fabulous red hair--but at what cost? AT WHAT COST?!)
I think the most freeing moment in a process like this is when we stop arguing with our inner self for a minute, listen to the quiet, and realize that we don't have to explain anything to anybody. And that's how Jesus found me in conversation on my way home from work one night.
Growing up, I was influenced by people who walked in worship. Worship wasn't just an event, something we did once or twice a week to feel like we have adequately given God the praise He deserves. Worship was (and is) a process. An experience. It was so important to their hearts, and subsequently ours, that worship was genuine. That a heart was thoroughly prepared before stepping into the Holy of Holies and speaking with Jesus about who He is. It wasn't about making ourselves good enough, or trying to make ourselves clean. It was about casting all things aside and reminding ourselves that this was something revolving around Him. It wasn't about us feeling good. It wasn't about manufacturing an atmosphere. It wasn't about warm fuzzies and coming away refreshed. The intimate name of Yaweh is sacred. This was about a single minded pursuit with the intention of lifting up His name, ministering to His heart, and making His very being known and expanded.
And that's why I struggle.
It's a difficult concept to explain, but I'll do my best. Sometimes in my walk, things get stagnant. It's only natural. Even the healthiest marriages face dry spells and stale moments. If the focus is only on my emotions about how things are going, then there is no focus at all. I definitely acknowledge that fact. But this was different. I was making Him so small in my perspective. I could feel myself panicking in the pit and trying to force some sort of affection toward Him. Do better, Melinda. Love well. Try harder. Keep pushing.
Why? Because! He deserves it! He loved me before I could ever love Him. He gave up his life and conquered the very gates of Hell so I could be in His story. He pursues my heart and consistently extends kindness my way. His hands steady my aching emotions and he guides me into the way of everlasting. He teaches me truth and he directs my paths on every turn. He has done. So. Much. And He deserves it.
But a love story based on guilt and "should haves" is not a love story at all. It's like only remembering to be nice to your wife on Valentine's Day, or giving your child the perfect birthday gift and not really caring what their reaction is. As if to say, "what's the big deal? I did what I was supposed to do." Empty actions, empty words, acting it all out purely out of image and duty. In doing this, the object of affection is unintentionally (but completely) removed from the equation. It's an empty way of carrying out relationships. How much more we would disdain Molly Ringwold if she ended up with Duckie just because she felt like she was supposed to?
The problem with struggles such as these is that my thoughts often start to pile up on each other. I am permanently off the subject at hand because I'm too busy chasing other anxious bunny trails I've started on my own. In the thick of wanting to worship and wanting to worship Him genuinely I looked up and suddenly asked what He would have me do.
It was as if He was amused when He invaded my atmosphere and said to me in all insatiable grace:
"Oh Melinda. I'm not Duckie."
If that is not the weirdest spiritual conversation I've ever had...
But to think of it: He is and always will be completely capable of instilling every sense of awe. He is able to captivate every wild heart. He never ceases to exemplify beauty. He's not a delicate flower. He isn't operating on a fragile ego. Both pride and shame aside...who am I to worry about anything? In my weakness, He is so strong. Perhaps the nuts and bolts should be left for another day.
"Be still my soul and rest,
Humbly I confess
In my weakness, that Your strength is perfect." (Bethel Music, Tides Live)
"The Lord said: Because these people approach Me with their mouths to honor Me with lip-service — yet their hearts are far from Me, and their worship consists of man-made rules learned by rote — therefore I will again confound these people with wonder after wonder. The wisdom of their wise men will vanish, and the understanding of the perceptive will be hidden." (Isaiah 29:13-14)
Your love is extravagant and I will sing, and sing, and sing again.
