Am I Really Wanted?

"Many children never really feel welcomed in the world. Beneath their nervous smiles, there is often the question: 'Am I really wanted?'" Henri Nouwen, Life of the Beloved, 57.

This statement has been haunting me since I read it. This is the statement that speaks to the core of my being. This is the question that has been with me from the beginning: "Am I really wanted?" And behind it is the suspicion that the answer is: "No, not really. You're nothing special."

There is a great paradox in my experience of the world. On the one hand, a deep feeling that I am chosen, that I am gifted, that I have something really unique and special to give to my fellows. On the other,  a profound sense that I am unwanted, unappreciated, just a faceless nobody in a sea of faceless nobodies; that I do not stand out, that others, even some who are less talented than I, are able to receive all of the blessing while I am ignored. This hurts me. It fills me with a rage that cries out, "Look at me! Don't you see that I'm good? Don't you see that I can love?" But I cry out silently, or in neurotic spasms, and no one hears or understands. This paradox of sense drives me crazy. Literally.

W.E.B. DuBois in his book The Souls of Black Folks talks about what he calls "double-consciousness." As he describes it, it is the paradox within the psyche of black Americans at the turn of the twentieth century that perceives both the inherent blessedness of the individual as a unique and special child of God and at the same time the judgment of contemporary society that condemns that same individual to shameful inferiority. I have often discussed this concept with my students to try to understand race relations in U.S. history. Only now do I come to see that modern society to some extent presents us all with this experiential paradox.

The demons of the world sound a drumbeat incessantly proclaiming my lack of worth. It is so loud and insistent that I am tempted to claim it instead of my beloved-ness. And then of course as Nouwen points out I seek relief from this lack of worth in places where relief cannot be found: in clinging relationships that demand more from the other than they can give, in academic degrees and positions that provide prestige that cannot satisfy my longing for acceptance, in possessions that cannot fill my profound sense of emptiness. All of these strategies intend to deny my broken-ness, and all of them reinforce and even deepen it.

Nouwen's answer: claim the truth of my beloved-ness in God. And he so rightly points out that this is not easy to do. How do I claim my beloved-ness? He describes the process using the four words: taken, blessed, broken, and given, from the scene in Luke's gospel where Jesus feeds the masses, by taking, blessing, breaking, and giving the bread to the people. This process is repeated at the last supper, on the cross, with the disciples on the road to Emmaus, in the Eucharist, and, Nouwen claims, in the life of all Christ followers.

I think the journey from this sense of not being welcome in the world to accepting that I am at home in God’s love is not a straight line. Certainly it begins with acknowledging the possibility that the still small voice speaking eternal love to me is a real voice with a real message meant for me in particular. It assures me that I am taken, chosen, to be God’s special child, with a special purpose in the world; that I belong here. And, that if I can come to truly realize this chosen-ness, I can recognize the chosen-ness of every other one.

This chosen-ness is my blessing. It announces the “good things” (bene decire) God is saying about me, and because of this allows me to say “good things” about my fellows. Thus my chosen-ness becomes  a blessing for others, as theirs does for me.

When I am safe in the home of God’s love I can look my broken-ness in the eye and claim it, and by claiming it place it under the blessing and give it to the world. To give my own broken self to the world just as Jesus gave himself. All of these movements occur simultaneously and reinforce each other, all inching their way forward, just as we, as broken individuals, love and support each other, and the body of Christ continues its mission of restoring all of God’s kids to himself.

Nouwen writes that being given to the world has two aspects: the giving of ourselves in life, and the giving of ourselves in death. In the latter formulation, he tells us, our acting out the truth of our beloved-ness can be a blessing to the future, just as Jesus’ death continues to bless the world. He writes: “The spirit of love, once freed from our mortal bodies, will blow where it will, even when few hear its coming and going.” (125) I think he is really on to something here, because this work and a number of Nouwen’s others really speak profoundly to my own perceived dilemma, and bless me, and help me to claim and to live out my beloved-ness as a gift from God to the world. Thank you, Henri.