Get Behind Me

Once again (twice? thrice? who knows?), I have come across the statement, “Get behind me, Satan.” It was there the night before last when I opened the pages of a notebook.

“Get behind me, Satan”: those are the words Jesus spoke to his righthand man, Peter, in the Gospel of Matthew. Such words were important in my old life, because understanding them correctly would mean that I’d get the ultimate Gold Star, the A++++ that would signal to everyone else that I was smart, I was worthy, I was right, and that I could follow the rules and achieve success.

My old life was lived like a college career: one class after another, always something to read and study, a paper to write, and a test to pass. Tests: was my life made of anything but? It was all so momentous: each decision was all important; any wrong move could wreck it all; no mistake could be completely erased. What does that do to a person?

And the grades? How did I fare when there were no more papers to turn in, no authority figure to tell me I was doing a good job? Not terribly well, because instead of a professor or a boss, I ended up with people who could always find fault but could never quite manage a “Good job” or a “You did it.” Even worse, I became one of those people. But is that who I truly am? Is it who I was meant to be? No! Unequivocally, no! God didn’t make me to be that way. Someone else did.

I changed, alright: so many friendships in the dustbin. Six women stood up with me when I got married. Only one of those relationships made it this far, and that’s with my sister, whom I dearly love. What about wedding guests? How many of those who were invited would make the cut now? I won’t bother to speculate. Instead, I’ll just say that I’d simply jump in the car and drive down to the town hall.

But what was it all about? What dynamics were at play? Whose fault? Is it really that hard to figure out when the trails of blood all lead back to one person? What was I doing? Quite simply, I was trying to earn love or respect or some sort of affirmation that yes, I should be here. It turns out that such things are what you grow up to crave when you got them sporadically, if at all, as a child. So, I worked to be liked and accepted. I could carry on a conversation with anyone, because I could always find something to talk about, something that might forge a connection, for at least a few minutes. That was the easy part. The hard part was consistently being who anyone else wanted me to be. It turns out that I’m also really lousy at reading other people. What’s more, boundaries confound me, so I say too much, I give too much, and somebody is always ready and willing to let me know that I did it wrong. Again. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I changed, my efforts were never good enough.

Remember those first few days of college: how awkward it was to sleep in the same room with someone you hadn’t even known existed just a week before? Well, sharing a body with a self who has never really known who she is makes life far more difficult. Survival instincts and trauma responses will kick in to get you through freshman year or maybe the few weeks it takes for enough students to drop out so you can get your own room or move in with someone else. But where do you go and what do you do when there’s no escaping the stranger inside?

Well, in the end, you manage or you don’t. If the former, everyone around you thinks you’re a success. If the latter, they shake their heads and wonder how it could have gotten so bad or what might have gone awry. Even worse, they tell you what you’re doing wrong or how you can fix things. I know. I’ve done it, and I’m sorry. What we all try not to do is ask questions, certainly not about how you feel, how you truly feel. Such a simple question, but it terrifies us. What if you get a response that is honest? What if you learn that someone you think has got it all together is actually filled with pain?

It’s so much more courteous to keep our secrets to ourselves: I hold on to mine, you hold onto yours, and nobody gets hurt. Umm. Wait. Well, it’s a nice idea, but it never works, not if you crave a real relationship. Trust and truth are necessary for that.

You know what else doesn’t work? Trying to live the life someone else has in mind for you, whether it’s a parent, a friend, a spouse—anybody—and that gets us back to Jesus and the heretic standing next to him. Here’s Matthew 16:21–23:

From that time Jesus began to point out to His disciples that it was necessary for Him to go to Jerusalem and to suffer many things from the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and to be killed, and to be raised up on the third day. And yet Peter took Him aside and began to rebuke Him, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This shall never happen to You!” But He turned and said to Peter, “Get behind Me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to Me; for you are not setting your mind on God’s purposes, but men’s.”

God has a special, individual destiny in mind for each and every one of us, but how do we manage it when everyone is telling us we’re doing it wrong? Do we rebuke the Satans who have insinuated themselves between us and God, or do we walk away?