Resting killface is a condition in which the mouth’s corners do not naturally turn upward, even when you’re eight tics happier than you look. The result is a face like mine, perpetually frozen somewhere between “quietly petrified”, “incurably grave”, and “Deep South serial killer”.
Your parents during your childhood: “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you’d reply over your book.
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
“You look annoyed.”
“I’m not. Now I’m annoyed because you keep asking.”
Years ago, I arrived at a party to announce I’d nabbed a new teaching position, only for a friend to go, “so why do you look like someone just shot your dog?”
If any of this is familiar, you might have resting killface. We’re good, we swear! We only look like we’ll strangle the next person who approaches us.
But eventually I had to face how my killface was impacting my social life. When I stood around in neutral, my downer look would repel folks. When I made a joke, my lack of smile would conflict with my tone, leaving others unsure of my intentions. It was subtle, but influential.
Following on this revelation’s heels was the fact that the onus was on me to change.
That was frustrating. I’ve never been socially gifted; friendmaking has been slow. To hear that I had a hand in getting where I was, and had more work to do, felt honestly like insult added to injury.
But the world wouldn’t change for me. Social dynamics were social dynamics. No matter how many Disney movies sang “be yourself”, no matter how many memes of people snapping their fingers in a “Z” motion and celebrating rejection of all advice, the score was the same. I needed to accept either this new “growth opportunity”…or the status quo.
Have you waged a years-long campaign only to be confronted with yet another battle?
Your student with special needs uncovers another learning disability.
Your illness breaks remission.
The new boss appears and turns out worse than your last three.
God exposes another soul weakness that needs work before he ends your singleness (I do believe he does this with some, my last post notwithstanding).
Another retreat fails to fix your marriage.
Your church keeps on bickering and back-biting, and now its foremost tither announces he’s moving.
Ugh.
I think of Shasta in The Horse and His Boy. He has just raced thousands of miles across country, first in a desperate flight from slavery, then carrying word of a coming invasion of the free and noble Archenland. He’s evaded city police, endured days of desert heat, and been chased by lions. Gasping, ready to collapse, he finally reaches Archenland’s citizens with news of the impending attack – only to learn that he’s the only one who can reach the king in time. He must keep going.
…”he writhed inside at what seemed the cruelty and unfairness of the demand. He had not yet learned that if you do one good deed, your reward usually is to do another and harder and better one.”
I don’t know where C.S. Lewis got this sage stuff (well, yes I do), but it’s the kind that alters a young man’s trajectory.
Perhaps it is not cruelty but honor and reward, wearying though our journey be. Perhaps we should throw ourselves in without hesitation, as Shasta did the first river he found after his desert crossing. Or into the next leg of his journey.
For Shasta’s mission succeeded. In fact, not only did Archenland receive his warning in time to fortify its defenses until Narnian reinforcements could arrive, but Shasta discovered who he really was: the long-lost son of the very king he’d warned, heir to the very kingdom he helped save.
Be refreshed by God today. It is only through these travails that we will discover Whose sons and daughters we’ve been all along.
Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. (Galatians 6:9)
I’ve been getting a little mail from Christians struggling with singleness.
I see it all the time – some character on the internet asking why they were taught (fill in the blank algebra) they never used after high school instead of (fill in the blank practical math like budgeting or taxes or mortgage math).
The last two winters have been brutal. 
A childhood bouncing between foster homes, never once getting to stay and just be “gotten”.
It took me a while to find “my people”.
In a world that seems to be all about pulling out the red carpet for one’s ego, I say this: I need criticism.
Ever heard psalmists and David Crowder sing unabashedly of God being “everything they need” and wondered, What on earth are they talking about?
Life has a way of breaking down your categories. You leave home and discover that Christians aren’t always decent people, nor atheists villains. You get a job and find out that some of the people out there with the foulest mouths and quickest tempers also have the very biggest hearts. You go through an election cycle. I’ll say no more about that. Whatever the case, our black-and-white definitions of things and people are constantly being broken down by life. It’s really a huge favor, if you think about it.
Brandon J. Adams 