Me, Darth Maul, and Other Fugitives (Long)

Sleeping in, dates at Starbucks, and just plain going grocery shopping together. I am loving DH’s spring break! My admirable husband is keeping up with his studies, but we're still taking advantage of the extra free time. We've even started re-viewing the Star Wars hexology. Yes, all six movies. Even Episode I. (What WAS George Lucas thinking? Then again, I can see how the brain that came up with Ewoks, after several years' slow decline into senility, might think that Jar Jar Binks was actually a hilarious idea.)

Regardless of its strengths or weaknesses as a movie, I have a secret fondness for Episode I. You see, it features two of my favourite characters. My fondness for these two has nothing to do with their role in the story or the skill with which their actors portray them.

I like Queen Amidala. Not Padme, the emotive "handmaiden"; not the sensual, inexplicably older-but-apparently-grown-completely-STUPID Senator of Episode II, but the padded and painted Queen. I like her because of her outrageously voluminous, outrageously numerous ceremonial costumes. You could stick Jabba the Hutt in those gorgeous robes, paint his face, and tie on a thirty-pound headdress, and call him Queen Amidala, and as long as he spoke in an emotionless monotone no one would be able to tell the difference.

And I like Darth Maul. You see, he's got a full set of armor, tattooed in red and black stripes across his face. He could be giggling uncontrollably, grimacing in fear, or weeping with the tortuous weight of guilt he's accumulated from his years of Sithly deeds. And all anyone would be able to see would be Tattooed Scary Evil Guy.

Why do I like those characters? Because they're safe. Nobody can see anything but the functional role they have assumed. Padme's heart can be broken (although really - Hayden Whatsisname acting like a thirteen-year-old Artistic Soul?) -- Queen Amidala's heart is invisible. Unassailable. All that is there is the even performance of her function as Queen.

Kind of a long and nerdy intro, I know. I've been reading this book, by Ed Welch. As the title suggests, it's about what's up when other people become more important to a person (viz, me) than God. When other people become the focus of idolatry.

Do I define myself by who I am in Christ?

Or do I feel insecure when I can't compete with or measure up to others? Am I afraid of being laughed at? Of not being liked? Am I unable to say "no" when people ask me for commitments? Do I feel responsible for helping others and fixing their problems? Do I tell "little white lies" to smooth over difficult situations? To avoid offending people? Do I need to prove my independence from others? Do I avoid people? Do I feel that my "low self-esteem" is holding me back?

Do I fear God, or do I fear people?

This is a scary, scary book. It is a book that is not afraid to shine the light of truth into the scariest corners of our hearts. Reading it, I am confronted with my heart. It's not fun. I feel exactly like Eustace. Like God is peeling off all my makeup. And then my clothes. And then my skin.

My heart wants to be like Queen Amidala or Darth Maul. No, I don't want to rule the galaxy via the Dark Side of the Force. But, almost more than anything, I want to be functional -- unassailable -- in the ways those characters are. I want "people" to perceive me as someone who fulfills her role. Smoothly. I don't want them to see the inadequacies, the fears, the petty self-indulgences. I want a mask in the shape of my own face -- a mask that doesn't let through pouts or tears.

Why is it so important that others think of me -- not as someone extraordinary -- but as someone "functional"? So much so that, in the vast majority of my relationships, I exchange superficiality for real love and service?

Mr. Welch suggests that my tendency to hide from "people" is an indicator that I want to hide from God. Or perhaps, worded differently, a way to distract myself from the terror of that (inescapable!) Knowing.

Has anyone else read this book? What did you think?