Safety Measures

I care a great deal about others, but at present there's an air of selfishness surrounding me in order to protect myself from something. Suffering, maybe?
I haven't been able to figure out, neither through prayer nor reflection, if this is a safe position for me to maintain.

Safe? Not usually a word I take much interest in.
I had a tough conversation with a girlfriend a few weeks ago. She'd been vacillating between moving out of an apartment she'd lived in for five years and into a new place, in an entirely new neighborhood, away from the community she'd established for herself. My nature, being quick to assume, figured she was just scared to make a change. It would be natural, right?
Until we dug more together and got at the root of our differing perspectives.
I believe we all have a value system inherent in our make-up, a way of ordering our basic needs, those factors by which we construct a good life. I came to understand in listening to my friend who was insistent that she was not simply afraid, that at the top of her pyramid of values was Security. Moving wasn't worth the risk of abandoning her known world - neighbors who could look after her cat, easy access to her church community, etc.
I came to see that at the top of my value pyramid is Freedom. I cherish the freedom to move above all.

I spent two weeks in Paris alone. But within that short time I managed to create a whole new world for myself. A new neighborhood coffee buddy, a new lunch date, a new best friend (complete with two adorable kids), a new crush (essential ;), a new church home. I tend to build a support system quickly wherever I go, so moving becomes fairly inconsequential. Sure, there are comforts I prefer. Access to clean food, a local church, a good indie film theater, for example. But safety, well, that's never really been my style. Typically, when I start feeling safe, or notice a pattern of living safely, that's when I get freaked out and need to shake things up a bit. Security in life, I figure that's a later business venture. Right now, I'm on serious gypsy status.

Years ago a friend tells me, "Don't mistake your seeking God for selfishness." I often reflect on these words she shared...at the time perceiving they came more from the Spirit of God, than her own. But I'm often still uncertain about how to discern what is my own, what is God's. I struggle with feelings of my own selfishness, as much as I struggle with feelings of compassion for others who struggle.

This morning I read a reflection from Henri Nouwen, one of my fave authors and Christian spiritual thinkers. "Joy," he says, "is hidden in compassion." And he defines compassion as meaning literally, "to suffer with."
There have been certain instances in my life where I have absolutely walked away from another's suffering. But probably more moments when I have walked in solidarity. It is not safe to be present to another's pain, to live in solidarity with their weakness, or brokenness. If you are truly being present to another, their suffering does affect you. It is not a safe position to take, but it is Christ.

One of my favorite stories is from C.S. Lewis' The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Susan and Lucy listen as Mr. and Mrs. Beaver tell them about Aslan, the Lion, the King, whom they are soon to encounter. Mrs. Beaver gives quite the intimidating account of his stature. Susan responds with apprehension asking, "Oooh! Is he--quite safe?"
"Safe?" Mr. Beaver responds emphatically, "Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe, but he's good."