Sometimes I wonder if people can see that I’m basically a fraud. And I wonder why I haven’t been called out for it yet.

Every now and then I am confronted with my own inconsistencies. I guess there’s various shades to that: there’s hypocrisy (when I say I espouse a particular moral high-ground when I know I frequently violate same said high-ground), and then there’s inconsistency (when I try to live a particular way but exhibit character traits that are inconsistent with that life), and then there’s just plain blindness (when others see my weaknesses before I am aware of them).

This past year (2006) I’ve tried to be with people in normal contexts more than in “Christian” contexts, because I’ve found that I’m often on my best behavior in Christian settings and I wanted to find out what I was really like in normal life. And it’s been quite a revealing ride.

• I’ve found that I’m annoyingly insecure about being the life of a party. I’ve found that I tend to dominate a conversation or an event, and I’ve found that I tend to push others out of the spotlight. Case in point - I’ve been on several trips last year with coworkers to cities where we do week-long technical trainings. During those trips we will frequently have lunch and dinner together, and I’ve noticed that I just cannot let any topic go by without me chiming in on it or making a joke about it or being witty or, in general, being an attention hog. When someone else makes a really witty comment or introduces a particularly interesting topic, I’m frankly envious and feel irrelevant.

  I’ve found that I don’t really converse with people - I tend to be thinking of the next witty sentence I’m going to say while they are talking. If it’s a topic that I don’t know anything about, I’ll still chime in - even at risk of being exposed as not knowing jack about it. When pressed, I’ll even make up a totally fictitious experience to back up my story.

• Which means I’ve also found that I’m all too willing to lie or act in order to put up an appearance. Case in point - last summer two coworkers invited me to go to a minor-league baseball game at Pawtucket, RI, and we had a good time. During the game we were seated in a section of seats that were pretty good, but halfway through the game we noticed that there were vacant seats closer to the field, so we decided to try sitting there if security didn’t catch us. Well, the first couple of seats we tried, we had some security staff come up in a few minutes and ask us to leave. When that happened, I quickly pretended to check my ticket and pretended to be astonished that I’d mistaken my section.

  It was a piece of really bad acting. And both times I tried it I got the “yeah you’re not fooling me” look from the security guy.

  And I wondered afterward why I felt the need to act as if I had made a mistake when it was clear to everyone around that we were just a bunch of guys trying to angle for a better seat. There was grace aplenty, yet I felt the need to make myself look innocent.

• I’ve found that I make emotionally charged and polarizing arguments, even when facts don’t back up my opinions. That’s probably no surprise to many close friends who know me well (and have gently helped me reformulate my ideas), but I’m sure it’s grating on colleagues and others who expect me to speak with professional authority on topics I claim to be an expert on.
• In other words, I’ve found that I’m a self-obsessed self-glorifying person, and I frequently miss out on true relationship because I’m always brooding over my own needs. I make it all about me.

Okay, reckless navel-gazing aside, I’ve realized that being with normal people in normal contexts is actually very healthy and refreshing. Truth be told, it hasn’t been as downbeat as it looks in the list above - I’ve found some really good things about myself too by being around normal people who’ve given me wonderful grace to express myself - but it hasn’t been as scary as I thought it would be. In fact, it has even been okay for me to change my behavior over the year. I’ve started being more comfortable letting others be witty and sparkling, even being silent when someone is talking, and even from time to time saying those difficult but honest words “I don’t know” when I’ve reached the end of my knowledge base.

And this is leading to something intriguing - what if people around me can see right through my fakery, what if they already know these things that I’ve just been finding out? What if my colleagues and friends simply put up with my emotional rants, with my attention-hogging, with my character flaws, with my whines and occasional blunt rudeness, with my frequent social snafus?

Perhaps everyone has these insecurities, but one thing I have noticed is this : many of my new-found friends and colleagues don’t seem to live as if they are worried about how they come across. I’m sure at some level they do, but they don’t seem to display the same insecure behavior patterns I’m beginning to recognize in my own personality. In fact, I think many of them are pretty much secure in knowing their weaknesses and strengths. And that has encouraged me to start being more secure in knowing my strengths so that I can step out and do what God has gifted me to do best : tell stories.

If I can do that without wanting to be constantly affirmed…

So this year, I’m embarking on another challenge - transparency. I know others can pretty much see through my BS anyway, so why bother putting up a front? I’m going to try and continue being honest (which is so damn freeing by the way) about what I don’t know, but I’m also going to start being honest about things I struggle with. Things like my varied personality insecurities but also deeper darker things that I don’t really have anyone to talk with about. I do have friends I can talk to about them, but I don’t want to, you know?

I’m wondering what would happen if I start being transparent about stuff with not just close Christian friends, but the everyday normal folks I hang out with on a daily basis (who may know me better than the close friends I don’t see very often).

The reason I’m filing this under “reckless healing” has to do with a really interesting thing my friend Claire is doing with her campus ministry up at University of New Hampshire : student postcards sent in secret, like the PostSecret website.

I think I’m not alone in having weaknesses and struggles and battles and issues. I think we tend to minimize or hide our struggles, though, thinking (a) that nobody would notice; and (b) that it doesn’t matter anyway; and (c) that it’s just us. Things like PostSecret explode the myth of a “normal” surface or appearance, and expose us for struggling to maintain an acceptable appearance while quietly struggling with things in secret.

Maybe transparency is the first step toward real grace.

Maybe even toward deliverance.