A Love Story

Enduring, But Not Okay…

I have been trying to write this post in many ways since December of last year. So much has happened in that time frame that I must warn you: This post functions more like a brief chapter in a book; so if you do not care, then feel free to skim. (Many people have suggested that I write a book, and I just might.) But here we go…

God, I haven’t been here in a very, very long time. I have faced adversity in every way, but I’ve still tried to be committed to you through it all, even when I’ve found myself at my wit’s end wanting so desperately to give up.

*** ***, * **** ** ***. (I will admit that I’m not as open as I hope to be, but I had to omit a very heartfelt sentence that I am just not ready to share publicly.) I haven’t said that since I was literally a kid who had yet to even reach double digits in age. And I’m so sorry. I’ve hated my life for the past two years now, and nothing has in any way gotten better in the past four. It’s gotten worse every single day.

My mom is fighting cancer, the house is in foreclosure, my sister is being abused, finances are still a strain, I won’t have any sure place to live in four days, my emotional state is crap, I’m striving to combat a condition that causes all this stress to force my brain and my body to stop functioning randomly throughout the day, I have no one who’s willing to be by my side through all this, and I’m desperately in love with a woman who’s rejected me and lives as though I’m not a factor in her life at all.

Lord, I know you’re building me for something greater, and I’ve been okay with that because I truly value people and ministry more than I value myself. But I can’t continue to be so adamant about growing and becoming better (because I know I’m not perfect) and be so darkly affected by the mounds and mounds of people I care for who don’t strive to do the same. You haven’t given me strength for that.

The Story

This isn’t just the story of a girl who doesn’t love me; it’s the story of a man who’s never had much, who’s lost everything and who has no one there to care and console. God, it’s already caused so much pain that no woman I’ve cared for has reciprocated feelings, but I can move on. It’s really damaging, however, to note that every woman I’ve ever come to love I’ve had to watch get swept away (and hurt) by other guys.

I’ve gotten past it time and time again, but when the body is wounded, the reality is that it will never be the same. Ligaments and joints may heal with time, but when torn or broken again, they may never be able to do the things they’ve done before. In the same way, God, I can only take so much. You know I have limits. You know that all my life I’ve been desperately longing to be loved. Not having that love, giving it so much and being degraded by the hurt you allow people to put me through is the equivalent of being stabbed and stabbed and stabbed in the heart over and over again; at some point, I can’t take anymore.

Unrewarded Goodness

People compliment my wisdom all the time, and though I’m flattered, my true desire is to see others live according to the same biblical wisdom. I’m not the smartest guy in the world (and I don’t need to be treated like I am), but the Bible has sincerely changed me. And apart from what I naturally need for encouragement, I don’t desire accolades; I just want to see your people love like you love.

I’ve noticed some things about this girl that have made me say I should probably get over her, and I think I can — maybe. But there are so many positive things that remind me why I fell in love in the first place. But it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t love me.

I’ve watched her fall for another guy while she was all the way in another country, and the entire time, I knew he’d hurt her. It hurt me to know that I was right. She did what every woman I’ve ever met has done: She fell for the wrong kind of guy, and it didn’t work out. He didn’t love her well, and he treated her wrongly.

When she finally came back to the states and I had gotten to know her better, I’d hoped for a chance to be with her — to be the real man who gets to show her how a true queen deserves to be treated. From my experience, though, women would rather try to fix a crappy guy than give in to a real man and allow him to have her, and they’d rather chase adventure than someone who will love and take good care of them.

That’s exactly what’s happened: I’m not wanted, loved, considered or cared for, and living life has become a task.

It’s difficult to see the girl you care so much about enjoying the presence of other guys but not feeling the same comfort and joy around you.

Sometimes I wonder why she can’t see me — why no one can. Why can’t she see that I’m a good guy? A real man who’d take really good care of her and maybe even make her very happy if she’d only give me the chance? Why can’t she be flattered by the things I go out of my way to do for her? Why can’t she see that we could have something amazing together, and life would be so good if we were a couple?

In my quest to remain true to this blog and be completely transparent and forthcoming, I will hesitantly admit to those who look up to me that I have needs, and I find myself feeling empty most days because of them. I have not felt wanted or loved throughout most of my life, and I need that.

My God do you know the hurt?

My God have you felt the pain?

When she denies that I have worth

After I’ve prayed for things to change

Oh God I know your word

I believe you’ll make right all wrongs

I won’t always be alone

But right now I’m stuck singing this song…

 

I want love

So I’m praying for patience

Until it comes

Until someone sees me

~ Christian Sanders: “Want Love”

Lonely Confidence

Sure, I’ve gone through periods of feeling unworthy, inferior to other guys, like I wasn’t enough, like something was wrong with me because no one loved me. But I’m not there anymore. I haven’t been for a very long time. However, I’d be a liar to say that after literally decades of fighting to tell myself I’m okay and God loves me, all of a sudden, I’m content. I’m not. I’m more hurt than ever because nothing has changed, and for 21 years I’ve remained strong — and alone.

Lately, I’ve felt stuck between a rock and a hard place because I have become more of who God wants me to be by becoming more open about my struggles; yet, people in my life have not changed. This personal shift has helped people (at least from what I’ve been told), but it hasn’t caused a change in my life.

The people I’m consistently around do not strive to understand me more or interact with me differently than they have. Even working on a staff of over 50 people (of which I’ve made efforts to in some personal way get to know most of them), not one has attempted to get to know me or pour into my life, including those I work closest with in leadership.

I’ve always believed one day things will be different for me. I still do, but the future just isn’t enough to keep you happy forever. I’ve lived off and been driven by the future all my life. It has kept me going, it has kept me hopeful, but it has not made me happy.

At times, I find myself asking, What is the cost of happiness? Because I would do anything to be able to pay the price for it.

Unreciprocated Love

Much of the struggles I have experienced has been highlighted or exacerbated by one single girl, but this idea is much bigger than any one woman. I’ve tried to make it a habit of mine to check up on the ones I love; the discouraging part is that no one checks up on me. No one ever thinks the people who are always there for others, the people who are always reaching out to spend time with and pray for others, the people who are always working hard for others actually do need people. No one seems to care. No one lives intentionally. Everyone walks around with blinders on oblivious of what’s going on around them.

When was the last time you tried to build a closeness with someone who doesn’t naturally attract to your friend group? What have you done recently to make someone feel legitimately and deeply loved? How have YOU taken the first steps? How have you communicated your intentions in a way that makes that person feel valued in your eyes? We live our lives with such fluidity that we become lazy in our attempts to be like Jesus.

What’s the Point?

My very odd hope for this post is that everyone reading feels guilty — because one day, I had to feel guilty. I had to feel guilty when it was brought to my attention that every person I’d pass by in life who seemed to have something weighing heavily on their mind was not important enough for me to acknowledge and reach out to. Because I am an introvert, and I don’t know them.

I had to feel guilty when someone I did not know very well opened up to me when I was clearly busy sitting on a bench writing an essay, and I lovingly responded with a crappy “I’ll pray for you,” knowing I’d probably forget.

God’s voice was extremely clear: “Pray NOW. Pray NOW.” Thinking I’m in control, I was too busy, too ashamed, too whatever. But God wasn’t having it. She politely asked, “Can you pray now?” I held that stranger’s hand, wrapped my arm around her and prayed with her like I should have done without her asking. I felt guilty after that prayer.

A Call to Live Intentionally

You’re not going to become best friends with anyone overseas. It’s not going to happen. I remember being on assignment: go into the local London community (a city with thousands of wealthy Muslims who have fled their countries in order to provide sustainability for their families), and build relationships. Sure, I can be awkward. Yes, I’m an introvert. But I was on assignment. So I walked into a charity shop and struck up a conversation with Qureshi, a Muslim Pakistani who left his family so he can work, make a lot of money and send consistent support back home to his loved ones.

Most don’t know of their need for God. They “have it all.” Qureshi was so touched by my friend and me choosing to take interest in his life on a normal day in a normal place because people don’t do that to strangers. He told his boss about us. He asked to take us to his home bureau, a place referred to as “Little India,” and he bought us foods that reminded him of home. We walked the streets of London with him and showed him the love of Christ as best we could. We continually checked up on him throughout our stay, and he called us the morning of our departure. I could hear the emotions behind his voice as he thanked us for caring, for seeing him, for sharing Christ’s love, and he wished us safe travels back to the United States.

I will never undermine the sincerity of our efforts. I’d gone through hell raising the $3,500 it took to have that experience. But one thing Qureshi will never know is that, although we were sincere, we were on assignment.

I will repeat once again: You will never become best friends with someone overseas. How do you live this in your day-to-day life? That is the question we should ask ourselves. As Christians, we have an obligation (which is also a privilege) to be a light in the lives of others. We know that, but what we fail to realize is that this obligation extends to EVERY SINGLE PERSON that we encounter.

Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit; therefore, if anyone does not discern Jesus in you, then you ought to question your commitment to the gospel. If ANYONE doesn’t feel immeasurably loved when they are around you, then you ought to question your sincerity toward God’s people. How do people know you value them? 

A Personal Story

If you couldn’t already tell, this is personal to me. There is a particular person that I’ve tried to build a closeness with, and I must say that it wounds me deeply that this person does not reach out to do the same. Sometimes I don’t believe she cares about me at all.

I hate the fact that although I’ve grown to be confident in who I am, everywhere I go I am solely viewed in relation to what I do as opposed to being valued for who I am.

At work, I am the managing editor or the AVID tutor. At school, I am the intelligent student who never seems to do what it takes and whose performance never matches his capabilities. At my church in Riverside, I am the audio technician. At my church in Victorville, I am both nobody and the “holy man of God” who is sincere about his faith and serves in multiple ministries. At family gatherings, I am the kind-hearted aspiring pastor and college student who will never get old enough or tall enough to not be considered “the baby.” At home, I am a man — who is simultaneously loved, overlooked, voiceless and overworked — with menial responsibilities given that supersede big-picture obligations and my overall goals to live life purposefully. But I am almost never Christian Deon Sanders.

I can endure. I’ve always endured. But I can’t be okay. I can’t be okay with always being overlooked and never feeling loved when I try so hard to show love to others. I can’t be okay with not being noticed, known or viewed as important by someone who means the world to me. I can’t be okay with battling through this never-ending, unquenchable hell on my own for a moment longer. I will endure. God has given me an imperishable tenacity that always seems to stand firmly against my circumstances. But I am not okay. How can I be?