Episode 9 - A Theology of Chocolate

Anni talks about healing from the disease of taking care of others at her own expense. She shares The Chocolate Story and her journey away from Christianity’s sometimes pathological messaging of forgetting about ourselves.

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Transcript

Hello, welcome to Barely Christian, Fully Christian. This is Anni Ponder. This podcast explores loving Jesus, being repulsed by much of Christianity, and relating to the Holy Spirit as the divine feminine, or as I prefer to call her, Mama God.

In this episode, I’ll talk about healing from the disease of taking care of others at my own experience. I’m going to share The Chocolate Story and my journey away from Christianity’s sometimes pathological messaging of forgetting about ourselves.

So I want to tell a story today. It's an old story from my childhood, and I'll preface it with this. Wherever you find yourself in this story, if you do, there might be different messages. And I fully recognize that not everyone needs the medicine that I have experienced in the undoing of this story or the retelling of this story, the rewriting this story in the same way because we are not all wounded in the same way. We haven't all received the same messaging.

And we might need different versions of this story for our healing. But I'm going to share it in the hopes that wherever you are on your journey, you'll find yourself someplace in this story and be able to write it in a way that is good for you and for the people around you and for the world.

So when I was a little girl growing up in church and church school, they told us this story as a virtue. And they said, please listen to the story and be like the little girl that we're going to tell you about, because she really has it right.

It's the chocolate story. So here's the chocolate story from which I have had to heal and which I am now rewriting in a healthier way for me, maybe for you, maybe for someone you know. Here's the chocolate story in its original context.

There was once a young girl who was having a birthday party, and she had all of her friends seated around the table and they'd had a lovely lunch, and her father came in and gave her a box of chocolates. Beautiful, lovely chocolates in this box. Each one was different. And he said, “Would you like to share these with your friends?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “I would love to share these with my friends.” And so she opens the box and stands up and goes around to each guest and holds it. As they make their selection.

Everyone deciding, do I want a caramel? Do I want a coconut? Am I looking for the strawberry cream? Making their choice. And she got to the last guest who picked out her favorite chocolate. And then the little girl put the lid back on the box and sat down.

And her dad asked, “What about you? Aren't you going to have a chocolate?” And the little girl looked surprised and she said, “Oh. I forgot that I was here.”

And then the adults in the room said, “And so you see, children, we must all be like, that little girl who forgets herself and serves everyone else the chocolate and needs to be reminded that she, too, is in the room and she can have chocolate. Let us be that selfless. Let us be that giving and conscious of others and unconscious of our own needs. And let us serve the world all the chocolate.”

I don't know if you can relate to that, but I was raised in a culture that absolutely esteemed the role of—particularly women—as servants who give and give and give and don't think of themselves at all. They are selfless. They pour themselves out for others. And they give their chocolate away without ever remembering that they, too, are people in the room.

Now I realize that many folks have been told other messages, and their story is quite different. Maybe they're the people who take all the chocolates for themselves. Maybe they don't serve the guests. Maybe they have a more balanced approach to the story.

But in my upbringing, which was very fundamental Christianity, akin to evangelical Christianity, that we are now seeing, so much of in the news, it was made very clear to me that Christians, and particularly female Christians, were to live lives of servitude to others and give and give and give, and not remember that we are in the room.

It's been a long journey for me, getting to a place where I now remember that I am a person in the room and that. I, too, can have a chocolate.

And so recently, I was at a friend's 50th birthday party and I told this story, this subject came up. How much women in particular are told to give and give and give within our circles. And I shared this story, and at the end I said, “And you know what I'm learning in my 40s? I'm learning that before I sit down, I'm going to have a piece of chocolate too.” And they laughed.

And then a woman next to me said, “Would you like to know what I'm learning in my 50s?”

And I said, “Absolutely. What are you learning in your 50s?”

She said, “It's my birthday. I'm going to take the first piece of chocolate, the one I most want. And then serve the others.”

And I thought, wait, we can do that? We're allowed to serve ourselves first? This is revolutionary. The thought had never occurred to me.

And certainly if that's taken too far, of course, out of balance, serving yourself first can lead to all sorts of separation and pain. But in our healing, what if we learn to take the piece of chocolate that we most want and serve the others as well? I'm less interested these days in the order in which that happens. And part of the reason is because I have learned about the nature of God's goodness and when it's something like blessing and love and attention that we're handing out, like, the chocolates in this story. There is no end to those gifts when they come to us from God's hand, from God's heart. We don't have to worry about scarcity.

It's not like a box of chocolates where there's one salty, nutty caramel that I want, and if someone else takes it, I won't have it. The nature of God is such that there's always my favorite. Even if someone else also wants my favorite. There's one for me too. I don't have to worry.

So what I'm learning these days is there's enough chocolate for everyone. And I certainly deserve a piece myself.

Raising three young, strong, fierce, beautiful women in their teenage years right now, there's a lot of conversation in my home, about this topic, about what we deserve, about honoring our own needs. There's a lot of talk, especially for one of my daughters, about not wanting to disappoint other people. It seems the messaging has come through very clear for her in particular. But the other two, as well: Don't ever disappoint anyone. Don't ever let people down.

She identifies as a pleaser. And as you may have read, I identify as a recovering pleaser, I am in recovery from this disease of trying to make everyone happy with me, at the expense of noticing that I, too, am a person in the room.

And so one of the things we talk about lately is what happens when you have to disappoint someone. What happens when you come to a decision? Say it's a scheduling thing and you've overbooked yourself, or you're looking at saying yes or no to an invitation to do something.

What happens when the question comes up: What do I do in order not to disappoint this person?

And what I am now leaning into saying to my daughter is, There will be many times in your life when you have disappoint someone. Somebody in the room is going to be disappointed. You're going to have to say no to someone. Because as we all know, every yes must be defended by 100 no's and so if you say yes to this engagement or that appointment, you have to say no to other things.

And so my urging for her, for myself, and for anyone else who is growing through this, this pleasing, is, let us remember that we, too, are people in the room. And I would go as far as to say, if you have to disappoint someone, let it not be yourself as often as possible.

Now, again, the flip side of this pancake can be equally destructive when you're only thinking about not disappointing yourself. And so maybe this part of this podcast is not for you. If that's your struggle. But if you struggle with overextending yourself to everyone else, and meeting everyone else's needs before your own, maybe this will be helpful to you as it has to me and my children: Be the person in the room whose voice you value. Whose situation you consider. And make decisions that do not disappoint your own self with great regularity.

Not all the time. Again. Don't fall off the other side of this cliff into selfishness and egocentrism and only considering your own poor, selfish self. But if you've been raised in a culture that emphasizes your unimportance, you are not a person in the room, forget about yourself, don't take a chocolate. Sit down and have someone remind you that you can have one, too . . . if that's been your story, then maybe consider changing the narrative so that if somebody in the room has to be disappointed, it isn't always you. You deserve the chocolate.

Recently I was talking with my daughters about Mother's Day cards. I guess maybe it's a while ago now. And we were thinking about the messages that are so often printed on Mother's Day cards as opposed to Father's Day cards. In our culture, from our experience, what we've noticed is that very often, Father's. Day cards say things like, hey, dad, thanks for fixing stuff or for playing ball with me. Or for being there when I need you. Thanks for showing me what it looks like to be a father, et cetera, et cetera. I appreciate the structure that you offer our family.

The number one message I can read from Mother's Day cards is, mom, you're so selfless. You always take care of other people's needs before your own. You're always giving to other people. You never think about yourself. You just give and give and give. And lately I've begun to wonder. Has that gone from virtue to pathology? Have we fallen off the side of the cliff of selflessness to the point where we forget we're a person in the room, too?

And so, I've taken to modeling for my daughters and really for myself, that I'm a person in the room too. And I say things like, “My body is feeling tired. I'm going to stop doing whatever it is we're doing and go give myself what I need. I'm going to find some food. My body's hungry. My body's tired. I have thirst. I need to disengage from this because I'm realizing that my person is somebody in the room too. I might need a chocolate right now.”

I hope this doesn't come off as selfish. And I've been made aware that without careful explanation, this can slip into one of my daughters maybe thinking I need her to take care of me. That's not at all what this is about. This is me modeling me taking care of me. Me nurturing myself. Me, offering myself what I need. And, of course, where does that come from? All of my needs are supplied by God. I don't mean to say, oh, I'm self sufficient. I've got this figured out. I take care of everything I need. No, I'm plugged into source.

But I don't forget myself nearly as often. I am unlearning the disease of not knowing I'm in the room.

One of my favorite stories in the Bible, in the Gospels is the story of two sisters, so. If you're not familiar, Mary and Martha were sisters, and Jesus enjoyed coming to their home. Martha was really good at providing for everyone. She cooked and cleaned and oversaw all the household functions. Mary has an interesting story that I'll get into maybe at different time.

But when Jesus walks in the room, all Mary wants is to be near Him. And so, on this one occasion, the men are sitting around and the women are bustling, getting the food ready to feed them. And Mary comes and plops herself down at Jesus’ feet. To listen, to bask in His light, to soak up what He is saying, to ask questions. To be where He is.

And Martha is busy and she's folding napkins and she's, I don't know, rinsing lentils. Not sure what she was doing for food preparations back in first century Palestine, but she's really busy in the kitchen.

And she realizes Mary's not there to help, and she's really mad because there's so much to do. And so she comes out with her hands on her hips. And says, “Jesus, why don't you tell my sister to help me? Don't you see, I have so much to do. And here she is ,she's sitting at Your feet. Listening to You.”

And Jesus turns to her and says, “Martha. You're worried about many things,” and I just feel so much compassion coming from him. He acknowledges yes, the load is heavy, but He says “Mary has chosen the better part. She's made her decision. This is where she wants to be, and it's right for her to be here.”

And by the way, what really lights my fire is that Mary's posture here, sitting at Jesus’ feet as a disciple would do is totally scandalous for a woman. Women were not invited to be disciples of rabbis. And yet Mary can't get enough of Jesus. And I don't know if she's doing this subversively or if she just can't help it and is doing this beside herself. But for whatever reason, Mary is sitting at Jesus’ feet as a proper disciple does at the feet of a rabbi. And Jesus commends her for it. And in that moment, Mary realizes she's a person in the room who needs something, and she's there at the feet of the person who can offer it to her.

And Jesus affirms her, this is right. And yes, I know. That dinner must still be put on. That children must still be looked after. And I don't know, maybe Jesus gets up after this and lends his hand in the kitchen, which would equally be scandalous and maybe the gospel writers couldn't even bring themselves to put that down because it's too much, a man in the kitchen . . . but I'm sure that on that day, everyone's needs were seen too. Eventually, everyone was fed. But first, Mary got to be a person in the room rather than someone as a supporting actress, rather than just taking care of other people's needs. She got her cup filled.

So I don't know about you. I don't know if this resonates with you if you have been someone told to put the lid on chocolate box before you take a piece so that you're seen as someone who gives and gives and gives and forgets yourself. If that's you, please carefully consider: You deserve a chocolate too. You too are a beloved creation, born, your spirit and soul are born from the heart of God. You deserve a chocolate, too.

Pick your very favorite. You don't have to worry. If somebody else takes the one you want, God will make more. There's no lack of chocolate. There's no lack of love, there's no lack of God's light and God's goodness and gifts.

So get your fill. Reve. Enjoy.

Have a chocolate.

Thanks so much for joining me today. If you’d like to get ahold of me for any reason, you can find me at barelychristianfullychristian.com. I’d love to hear your thoughts about this particular topic or anything else that’s on your mind and heart.

The artwork for Barely Christian, Fully Christian was lovingly created by Lauren Leith of Little Moon Market. You can find her on Instagram if you'd like a beautiful moon of your own. This gorgeous song by Wyn Doran and Paul Cray is called “Banks of Massachusetts.” Enjoy.