Vitamin Big

The words we use to describe ourselves are like pictures. Each one communicates a thousand other nuanced words, all of which we hold high. They’re serve as invisible banners, pleasantly shading us or darkening our paths with their presence, depending on what words we choose.

For instance, I’m always amazed when people describe me as “brave.” To be honest, I’ve imagined the word “TIMID” taking up most of my banner, instead. 

I’ve always been a weenie, I explain to those who think otherwise. I go on to describe my childhood memories – fear of lightning, fear of falling, fear of heights, fear of dogs. Sometimes, I recount my fear of my uncle. During church, he would reach over and thump my red-haired cousin on the back of the head when he misbehaved, a memory that still makes my own head tingle in sympathy. Even though I sat as far away from the action as possible, I lived in perpetual terror of the dreaded thump.

When I recall all these things, my listeners usually agree. I’m your standard bench-sitter, right?

Well, I don’t know. Lately, God’s been upsetting my long-held beliefs, and this one may be no exception.

For example: I’ve always assumed that certain people just aren’t my type. It probably began with my uncle. Larger personalities have never felt “safe,” so I’ve kept them at arm’s length.

But lately, God’s brought a bunch of big people close by. People with loud voices, short fuses, fuzzy plans. I’ve done what I usually do and backed away, but these people just keep edging in.

And as they have leaned forward, hands waving, nostrils flared, the strangest thing has happened Rather than seeing the supposed danger they stand for, I’ve started to see what they give.

My witty friend Lori gives me permission to treat life with a blessed irreverence.

My passionate friend Livia teaches me that big feelings must often be processed in big ways – with a raised voice, for example. Or shameless tears.

My cousin Katie, with her commitment to justice, reminds me that love without legs is just another four-letter word: LAZY.

And each time we talk, my older brother Charley shows me that my buttoned-up agenda looks like faded newsprint next to the 4K, 3D vibrance of following God’s plans instead. Charley’s the best dad to his kids, inviting them into a life that is wild and unpredictable and beautiful, just the kind of life I think God intended when He sang out to His friends, “Follow Me.”

I love my big people. They invite me beyond my shallow ideas – beyond that silly banner with its limiting list. If someone assumes that I’m brave, let it be! God’s life flows through me, after all, and He represents all the great traits in the world.

Perhaps others have spotted the truth about me all along, calling out a courage that’s lurked just out of my sight. Perhaps my banner is really a marquis, a rotating list of words God sings out, each of them more vivid and delicious than the last. That seems like His style, doesn’t it? Finding a creative way to name His favorite traits in each of us, traits He cultivates with fatherly pride.

All this inspires me to action. Rather than sitting around thinking about limitations or safety or pride, I’m taking a cue from my friends. Setting my banner aside, I’m leaning in to each day, hands waving, nostrils flared. And just like my bravest, most colorful Friend, I’m living big.