Self-Preservation

When my boys were young I heard this stereotype that made me laugh:

When a girl tries something and gets hurt she says, “I didn’t like that. I won’t do it again.” 

When a boy tries something and gets hurt he says, “That was unlucky. It won’t happen next time.” 

Now, as Mom of five sons and Nana to seven grands—two girls, five boys—I am quite aware of the wide spectrum of different personalities, and it’s certainly not one size fits all (nor is it politically correct, I suppose) to assume gender distinctions. Not to mention—I have a Lola. (If you’re my family you know exactly what I mean. lol.) But I still laugh when I think of that little quip, because it so perfectly suits myself and my husband!!

Kyle and I are opposites in a lot of ways, but one of the most obvious is how we respond to self-preservation. If you know me at all, or least follow my stories, I’m sure you can guess where each of us falls on that continuum. But in case you’re new here, I’ll make it clear. Kyle and I are currently 8 to 1 in the tally of orthopedic surgeries. Mine, for the record, was due to a broken wrist from falling on ice, and yes I was unwisely running, not paying attention, and guess what I IMMEDIATELY said to myself? That was awful, I will NOT be doing that again. And seriously, you should just see how totally old lady I’ve become at the very mention of “icy!” Yikes. 

Kyle, on the other hand, repeatedly and seemingly willingly, pays the price for abusing his body. In his younger years this was primarily athletics. (How many times did he break his nose before getting it fixed? Then proceeding to break it again throwing pitches to a teenaged son in batting cage…) Story after story. Basketball. Waterskiing. Snowboarding. And now it’s woodworking. I know, a “sport” which doesn’t seem all that dangerous. But stick with me. 

One of the many totally unexpected and lavish gifts of our new/old home is a very impressive woodworking shop. Every other house we’ve owned the saws have lived in our garage. But here my husband has his very own space, which even includes a window view to the river. It’s amazing. There are so many things about this place that feel like a taste of heaven, I can only shake my head in disbelief and repeat thank you, thank you, thank you.

But woodworking. What could this possibly have to do with self-preservation? Oh goodness. Let me tell you… 

One of our more recent ER adventures (a couple of winters ago, while still at the lake house) involved a saw, and a finger, and a code blue. And later an admission, “I knew I was getting a little too close, but…” 

Unlucky. Won’t happen next time!

And he’s fine. He’s always fine, more or less. You wouldn’t even know, looking at that finger. (But my own nervous system…?? Let’s just say, “triggers.”)

Currently Kyle is scheduled for a minor wrist surgery, hoping to get relief from Carpal Tunnel. His hands fall asleep, especially after a lot of sanding. Or pounding. Or honestly, just working with tools in general. But in spite of this, after two months of living in our home, Kyle has installed stunning hardwood floors in our dining room, created shelving for living room and library, and has handcrafted a truly exquisite midcentury-modern walnut dining room table rivaling high-end pieces priced in the thousands. Seriously. 

Self-preservation? What’s that? 

Which brings me to the real point of this post. 

You know how when God wants to make sure you’re getting a particular message He just keeps repeating it, ad nauseam? Or does this just happen to me? Anyway, I have seriously lost count of the number of times I’ve recently heard, read, or randomly encountered the suggestion that self-preservation can be unhealthy, unloving, or just plain sinful.

And I admit it. I have an unhealthy tendency to self-preserve. I am overly careful. I don’t like discomfort. And I am quick to say NO to things that might cause me pain, by whatever definition. Guilty as charged. 

The thing is, if I truly want to follow Jesus, in word and in deed, I must acknowledge the truth that he is not about self-preservation. (He did however personify wisdom, which for me can be a bit of a conundrum.) But ultimately, Jesus laid down his life, a choice that has never ceased its ripple effect. 

For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. (Hebrews 12:2-3) 

If I truly want to live this “cross-shaped” life, it’s going to require some willingness to self-sacrifice, embracing a bit of suffering for the greater good. And I’ll admit, this is much easier said than done. 

I doubt God is calling me to take up snowboarding or slalom skiing, thank goodness. One of the beautiful things about being my age is you finally have a legitimate reason to say, “Oh dear, I believe that ship has sailed.” But I have also lived enough life to know following Jesus is full of surprises, and the Spirit can lead some pretty wild adventures. A flourishing life is one that’s quick to say YES. I must never outgrow saying yes to the Spirit. 

Even if I suspect it’s going to hurt.