“NOT CENTERED”

not centered“Oh man – That’s kinda harsh! Is my nose bleeding?” I asked him in sarcasm as we chatted on the phone.

“No – No! –  I mean… He’s different, you know, not centered. It’s not bad – It’s good!” he tried to make me feel better in his explanation and comparison of me to the guy we were talking about.

“Is the blood trickling out of my left nostril?” I asked, still joking, but feeling the truth in the statement about me that he was trying to spin as an attribute.

I generally have pretty thick skin and I took it in stride as usual, but his words carry weight with me. When a person passes judgment on me that doesn’t know me well, it runs off me like water off a duck’s back. When that person knows me pretty well, the words go a smidge deeper.

My friend and business associate that I’ve known for thirty years has had enough interaction with me to make me stop dead in my tracks and consider his words and observation.

My friend was telling me about the character in the magazine he bought for me as a gift. It was a thoughtful gift and while I was looking forward to meeting up with him to get it, the words of comparison rang in my ears with some regret of the realization of that truth.

My old buddy would be the first to tell and be the witness of how much I’ve changed, but the reality is still that I, like the leopard, haven’t changed my spots. Everyone reading this might be able to relate to this, at least to some degree. We all know that none of us are perfect, but we’ve made truly miraculous changes along life’s merry way, although the reality is we still have the same tendencies we had when we didn’t have a lick-uh-wisdom.

“Not Centered.” I’m not sure how many of us are “centered”, but it’s been my observation in life that right brain people with the artistic tendencies, like the majority of people reading this that love to read and write, are rarely “centered”. I guess you could say the lack of being centered would be called “obsessive”. That stripe I wear is etched down into my soul.

We have tendencies we’re born with that we’ll wage war within our soul for the duration of the time spent shuffling on this earth’s crust. I don’t know about you, but I get weary of the battle… I have to remind myself of all the victories, not because of me, but because of the power given me by my Father to honor Him along the way.

I’m wired the way I am by His design. If He can use my weakness for His glory, He can turn my weaknesses into my strengths, my strengths into my weaknesses. My being “centered” doesn’t matter. When I see my Father as my focus and goal for the totality of life, His perfect Center casts no shadow on the side of my lack thereof.

For all that I lack He redeems my imperfections perfectly… I’ve got a hunch that’s what my stripes really read if you get close enough to my soul to read the fine print where He resides.