Loving You: Posture or Gesture?

Dealing with myself in the week after Ignite Conference often feels like looking after an infant.

"Dangit, the baby's crying again. What is it this time? Exhausted? Overstimulated? Too much to process spiritually?"

Finally, the last of the teenagers has left the auditorium. I've re-programmed my face out of its staunchly-impregnanted smile. Then, without warning, the B-grade bartender's cocktail of emotions arrives, potent enough to weaken those already-mosh-pit-weary calf muscles.

If you've ever volunteered from dawn till late for four days with 1500 teenagers, you'll recognise that emotional cocktail: amazed and humbled by everything God has done; even more amazed by how little sleep you've survived on; encouraged but still slightly worried about the future faith and hope of the teenage species; furious at that one little thing that the Lord suggested to you when you already had too much on your mind; entirely sick of small talk; plagued by a vague but constant soundtrack of "Come to the Water" on repeat in the back of your brain.

Usually a good night's sleep (or three) fixes the exhaustion. Climbing a tree with a Bible (and refusing to come down until your introverted heart feels able to deal with people again) fixes the overstimulation.

Nevertheless, collapsing out of Conference often feels a bit like spiritual back-pedalling.

I haven't been to Mass since Sunday. I've been consistently less patient, less kind, less generous, and less motivated than before Conference. I experience acutely and painfully the contrast between the Kate who volunteered on the weekend and the Kate making snarky comments at the breakfast table.

And it makes me wonder: was that truly me? 

Did I honestly sing "I am a servant" just a few days before walking past a pile of dirty dishes with a selfish sigh of frustration? Did I encourage my small group to make the most of every attempt to receive Jesus in the Eucharist, and then ignore His presence for the better part of a week? Was that actually me who had the conversation about modesty a mere 72 hours before wearing something I knew to be too low-cut?

Dealing with myself in the week after Ignite Conference often feels like a war against my own hypocrisy. I see, with sharper clarity, those inconsistencies and inauthentic behaviours that undermine my wholehearted choice for God.

And I think that whether you're a delegate or a volunteer, the 'coming down the mountain' experience after a conference never ceases to be jarring. Once again, you're confronted with the daily reality of choices you made on a spiritual high.

Daily life is the greatest test of love. When the feelings are gone and the music has faded, am I willing to keep choosing what my heart said yes to? Is this commitment a gesture I've made once, or a posture I'm willing to take on indefinitely?

According to my extensive research process (thanks, Google), gesture is "a movement that conveys information," while posture is "the quasi-static configuration of the whole body."

Gesture is cleaning your room when you've got people coming over. Posture is making your bed the moment you get up every day.

Gesture is buying the girl flowers when you ask her out. Posture is treating her like a rose even when you discover her flaws.

Gesture is inviting the Holy Spirit into your heart in prayer teams during a rally. Posture is inviting the Holy Spirit into your heart every. single. morning. by choosing to get up and pray.

Gesture is serving the Kingdom of God for four days. Posture is serving His Kingdom with every breath you take for the rest of your life.

Gestures are great. When I was on NET, an honouring from our team brothers brought me joy and delight. Being complimented, hugged, or given a gift warms my heart. Moments of radical commitment to the Gospel are necessary peaks in my relationship with God.

But gestures are not enough.

Any relationship where love is only shown in gesture will become feeling-dependent. I will show a sign of my love when I'm motivated to "convey information through movement", but not when I'm exhausted, emotional, or distracted. I will let you know that I love you when it's convenient to me.

Until "the quasi-static configuration of my whole body" reflects my decision to love, there will be a tension between what I choose on the mountaintop and what I choose in daily life.

Loving anything authentically demands we adopt the posture of love. 

This weekend, I made a significant gesture: I said to God and to every young person at that conference, "I'm here to serve you."

This week, the challenge is to transfer that gesture into posture - to keep saying to God and to every person that I meet, "I'm here to serve you."

Yes, I came out of conference exhausted, overstimulated, and in need of spiritual processing time. Yes, I'm an introvert who has been smiling at strangers in loud rooms for four days. Yes, I can come up with 83,000 excuses why not to love you the way I know I ought to.

But the moment I open myself up to the Holy Spirit again and say "create in me a generous heart," is the moment my love withstands the test.

I think spiritual maturity consists of learning to choose to love when it's least convenient to us.

This week, when it's least convenient to me, am I willing to open up the Scriptures and pray? This week, when my legs are sore, am I still willing to walk to daily Mass? This week, when I've given so much, will I still choose to "never see a need without doing something about it"? (Mary MacKillop)

For which one of you, having a servant plowing or tending sheep, will say to him when he has come in from the field, "Come immediately and sit down to eat"? ... So you too, when you do all the things which are commanded you, say, "We are unworthy servants - we have done only that which we ought to have done."

Luke 17: 7, 10

I will keep choosing to be Your servant, Lord.

AMDG