Heels of Steel.

Maybe it’s a sign, that it’s about time I dealt with it.

I met a friend for tea today. He shared with me that the girl in his life was shutting him out because she was afraid of being in a relationship. Past issues were haunting her, and she felt unable to trust and receive love again.

” I don’t understand it. And it’s frustrating for me,” he said. But I understood why she reacted that way.

Because I thought to myself, I would do the same too.

Run away, shut down, and hide from love. And that realisation scared me.

I was browsing in the church bookshop today when I chanced upon a book called “Hiding from Love” by Dr. John Townsend. It was about learning to change our withdrawal patterns within us, which can be both isolating and destructive to our growth and relationships. It didn’t take me 2 minutes to decide I needed to read it.

And so, when he shared with me just a couple of hours later that this girl was “running away and shutting him out” because she was afraid, it wasn’t hard for me to see that perhaps God had something about that to say to me, too.

I could perfectly understand her reaction, why she was scared, why she wanted out. She was hiding from love, and running away because she was afraid of being loved.

“It’s so unfair to me, and frustrating too.”

Till today, I am still trying to figure out what it is that I am petrified of.

Perhaps, it is the fear of knowing I might disappoint somebody or myself: I have bouts of moodiness, I sometimes think too much, and need a lot of personal space. I am not as independent as I show myself to be. And yet, fiercely so at times.

Two weeks ago at a train station, I spun around from a stooping position, only to find R, an old friend from primary school watching me, with arms folded. He had been standing there for a long time, observing me. R used to sit next to me in class in primary school. He used to bully me when I was ten, ha.

“What a surprise! Hi R, how’re you doing?” I said, straightening my back from bending down.

” I recognised you from afar.”

“Haha, oh dear. That can’t be good. You mean I look the same since primary school?” I joked.

“No, cos of the way you were talking. You stopped to talk to the man in that wheelchair selling tissue.”

“You mean Peter? Haha, I met him at another train station before heh.”

” Yup, no one else would do that. That’s how I recognised you from afar.”

From afar.

Sometimes I think people see me from afar and see only the good bits. Medical student, triathlete, author, missionary-wannabe, overcomer- it’s like she has it all together.

But what they don’t know is how much I struggle with medical school. I wish I could tell you I love every bit of medicine, that it’s my sole consuming passion- but it isn’t. I like medicine, but to me, it’s just a tool to reach people, the hurting and the poor. I don’t enjoy putting intravenous lines and plugs into people, I don’t enjoy seeing people cry, groan and die every day, I don’t enjoy working 36-hour shifts. I don’t. Sometimes, in the face of mercenary inustice and fatigue, I hate this job. Sometimes, I wish I were teaching children instead. But I do it because I believe there is a greater purpose in it, that God has a plan, and I am convinced of it.

What they don’t know is that this triathlete isn’t a real triathlete at all. I’ve only done one mini race and I’m an accident-prone amateur. What they don’t know is that I tend to take things to the extreme, that I’m still struggling to find a balance between work and play, and learning what it means to be comfortable with my body. I am still finding that equiibrium. What they don’t know is that triathlon is a seemingly healthy way for me to deal with life, and its absence has forced me to deal with the holes it used to help fill.

What they don’t know is that behind every book are tears, buckets of tears because of my own wilfulness and sinfulness. Tears of my own, and of those who love me, those who had to see me suffer. Behind every book is a lot of unspoken suffering. It is not at all glamorous.

I remember I went home sobered that day. R had thought the world of me. He thought I was very kind and generous to Peter. He mentioned he thought I was a saint. What he didn’t know was that on my feet were brandnew heels, heels that I liked very much and so bought the day before. Nothing wrong with buying heels except that they cost about sixty-dollars and I already have enough shoes. I bought them because I liked those polka-dotted, vintage-looking wedges very much. At best, I am inconsistent, I thought to myself. Remember, I left that elderly lady at the traffic light junction.

I could perfectly understand why she wanted to run away and hide. I have done it before. It is because of fear. I can see myself doing it again, and hurting people who love me. It is a silly, childish thing to do.

And perhaps, it’s time to grow up. Not just to grow up, but to stop hiding.

Later we talked about relationships and marriage. “Relationships are important to me. But I’ve told God before, that if need be, I’m willing to go through life being single in the mission field if that’s what’s required of me…”

“That sounds very good. But is it also an excuse to run away (from marriage/intimate relationships)?”

Silence.

“Yes,” I said. “It could be.” My fingers searched for my cup.

At church today, my pastor made a specific appeal to everyone, for a couple, any couple to come forward to volunteer to be missionaries to Africa. They needed a married couple willing to stay there for about 5 years, who had skills in administrative work and with prior experience of leading a bible study group. The couple had to be committed, had to have had some form of leadership training in a bible school and no outstanding debts. I remember having goosebumps. Tears welled up in my eyes because I thought to myself, that was the answer to my prayer. For the longest time, I had prayed that my church would make appeals like this so that one day I could be sent out, too. Today was the first time an appeal like this was made, and I was glad. But Pastor emphasized he needed a married couple, and that troubled me, made me sit up and question God, and myself.

I suppose, we all have things to deal with. And it’s about time I dealt with mine. John Townsend writes, that as children, our hiding patterns may have protected us in a threatening environment. But what served as protection for a child can become a prison to an adult, isolating us from the very things we need to heal and mature.

Do you have a hiding pattern, too?

There’s a story in the bible about Adam and Eve. After eating the forbidden fruit out of rebellion, they hid from God. Hiding, besides disobedience, was one of the earliest sins committed. It is an ancient, ancient sin. If only they had come clean.

I can see how certain incidents from the past have left an indelible impression on me, how they has left me deeply cynical about relationships, how my defense system goes up and shuts my system down when my fences are breached. But I am also learning, that I am a grown-up now, and I have the choice to free myself of these debilitating and false beliefs. Time is needed to delve deep inside to ask the tough questions.

Are there things you are afraid of too? Things which prevent you from forming meaningful and intimate relationships?

I have been thankful for my injury. I have stopped asking God for healing, because I truly believe this is a season for rest and reflection and to sort the deep things in the hardened bits of my heart out. I truly believe, that once God has taught me all He needs me to learn this season, my leg will naturally be healed completely. But for now, it is good for me to be still.

And so I suppose, it is a good season for me to stop, to rest and reflect, and to finally be brave enough to come out from hiding to see the truth, to be honest with myself and to see my feet for what they really are- feet of clay clad in heels of steel. Because only then, can restoration begin and can I, can we truly, be set free.