BY CATRIONA MURRAY
POST TENEBRAS LUX I
our private thoughts; we have no such scruple with ourselves. Growing up, I heard plenty of counsel against self-love. Indeed, the Bible is full of warnings against this trap. But Colossians 3 also says, ‘clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience’. We very naturally think about this as relating to our approach to others — ‘clothe’ perhaps tending to evoke a sense of our outward appearance and demeanour — yet I think the advice is to be applied universally, otherwise our kindness and gentleness et cetera, really is nothing more than a garment which can be cast off without much thought. How we are when we are alone is how we truly are. Forget for a moment the adage that we should treat others as we ourselves wish to be treated, and perhaps turn it on its head. Wouldn’t our inner monologue be much sweeter if we were to treat ourselves like dear friends? Perhaps we would respond positively to such gentleness; maybe our conduct would improve, and we might even end up by being genuinely kinder people. Christ, in his walk through this world, epitomised selflessness — but even he practised what we now call self-care. He drew aside from crowds, whether it was to take a nap in the boat, or to pray to his Father, knowing that it is impossible for any human to be loving and giving if they have not taken care of their own spiritual and physical needs first. ‘Love your neighbour as yourself’, Jesus said. He does not place either one above the other, nor does he chastise people for loving themselves. All the Lord is saying to us — and he is always perfectly consistent in his counsel — is that we are to love in equal measure. He, of course, does not say that we should obsess about, or worship ourselves (or others, for that matter). Ultimately, if we place our worshipful love where it ought to go, all other things will flow from that. Loving God as we should makes it impossible not to love our neighbours. The question is do we love him as we should, in the quietness of our own hearts? •
n this era of memes and mantras and cheap pop psychology , we might occasionally come across the odd piece of advice that actually has some
©Photo by Christina Anne Costello on Unsplash
substance to it . Now, don’t worry, I am not about
to tell you what to do if life gives you lemons, nor yet say a word about dancing in the rain, rather than waiting for the storm to pass. Platitudes help no one. However, I am a subscriber to the view that we should learn to speak to ourselves more kindly. I would imagine we have all done something illjudged, only to berate ourselves for it afterwards. We call ourselves ‘stupid’, or ‘gullible’, or any number of awful epithets that we would not (I hope) dream of chucking at anyone else. If a friend finds herself in that kind of difficulty, I do not immediately denounce her as an idiot, or ask ‘why on earth did you do that’? No, I try to reassure her that it’s an understandable mistake, that it’s fixable, that no one died... So, why do we find it so easy to be empathetic to our friends and family, yet allow our inner voices to bully and talk down to ourselves? Sometimes, I might drop a glass, or put the phone in the fridge (yes, really) and I will say to myself, ‘well, that was stupid’. In sillier moments, the ‘voice’ of my cat might chime in judgementally, telling me I’m losing myself and getting doddery, and that she might be about to put me in a home. We then get into a bit of a debate, which I always lose because of her superior wit and intellect. These are not the kinds of exchanges I’m talking about, however — these are just some of the ways that people who live alone amuse themselves. (What? No, I’m sure it’s not just me.) Recently, I went through an experience in which I really did question my own behaviour and judgement. After several miserable days, I realised that I was being incredibly, unfairly harsh on myself. I started to imagine that it was one of my friends or my sister in the same situation, and thought about what I would say to them — and it was nothing like the vitriol I had poured upon my own head. With others, we are conscious of avoiding the appearance of being judgemental, whatever
THE RECORD
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OCTOBER/NOVEMBER
