I Can’t Be Minnie Mouse

Have you ever stopped in your life and simply thought, “Wow, I am freaking exhausted!” And, not in the “Maybe I didn’t sleep enough” or “I haven’t had enough water” or “Yes, I drank too much last night” kind of way. I don’t mean sleepy, or any other explainable way of tired.

I am talking exhausted: brain feels mushy, arms are weak, sore for no reason. Heart is weary, face looks awful, full on exhaustion. The kind where you don’t even recognize your own face, life, thought processes, verbiage… nothing looks normal anymore.

Yeah — that exhaustion. You know it… and, it sucks.

It happened, and is happening, to me. Deeply and fully, 17 months of full on exhaustion have hit me like a Nascar driver spinning out of control and hitting a wall. Imagine Will Ferrell screaming he doesn’t want to die in Talladega Nights… he feels like death is imminent, yet everyone else can see that he is simply spiraling out of control.

Exhaustion feels like that. You don’t what is left from right, up from down, sane from insane. Everything feels crazy and life-threatening, and all you keep saying to yourself is “Wow, I am freaking exhausted!”

Well, if any of this resonates with you, you are not alone. You might feel like it, but you aren't. However, you cannot stay like this. I know because I can’t stay like this. Not one more day — I refuse.

As a woman, that is usually where I stop. I spill my feelings, I feel good about connecting and tracking with someone else, and then I say, “Okay, great. I will stop doing that!” I genuinely mean that, too. My emotional connections make me believe I am handling something, when really I am just venting about it. I never actually change anything, starting with myself, and thus everything remains the same. Then, I remain exhausted, and the cycle of insanity starts all over in a situation that probably looks similar to every other exhausting rat-race season I have journeyed through.

But alas, for once, I actually mean it — I am done.

So, let me tell you what I am done with: Minnie Mouse faith.

I am not Minnie Mouse. Not in the least, but I have been trying really hard to be exactly like her. Because for some reason, we all have the idea that as the church we are all part of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse rather than the Kingdom of God. Jesus isn’t Mickey Mouse, and the Kingdom isn’t Disney World… and, as a Florida girl, I am pretty damn happy about that.

Mickey Mouse is a dude in a costume, who hates life and is dying of heat stroke at 150 degrees. His face has a constant smile, ready to envelop you in a huge hug while signing autograph. You have to give away your life savings for a ticket to the “Happiest Place on Earth” which is really just dying in crazy heat and two hour lines for thirty second rides with a bunch of strangers. Oh, then you jump in a line for another hour to meet Mickey for thirty seconds to take a picture as he immediately moves onto the next person. And, Disney World, which is hot as hell and expensive. And, I know all the Disney lovers are like, “BUT, IT IS THE BEST!!” Too bad it isn’t real.

Jesus, unlike Mickey, is real and free. He doesn’t want you for a thirty second picture or some huge, fake hug. He isn’t some man in a costume playing nice. Jesus is a real one, yet I have missed it. I have felt like I need to fall in line, being perpetually happy, minding my manners, ready to envelop anyone in a hug, and leave them happier.

But, here is the biggest issue: Jesus wasn’t a character.

He was not perpetually happy. He spoke — honestly and powerfully. He wasn't paid a dime to die for the world. He probably felt weighed down by his assignment almost constantly, while not feeling like he fit anywhere, as if he wasn’t actually experiencing life around him. Like, he gave up all the power he had to live so that others could be free to do “greater things than this”. He probably flipped over more tables than the ones at the synagogue that one time. He was probably more vocal about his feelings than, “You fell asleep”, while dripping bloody sweat in the garden before he died. And, right before he said, “It is finished”, he looked around for his best friends and thought, “Wow, they’re all gone. Every. last. one. of. them.”

Because, Jesus was a man, which sounds a lot more real than whatever interpretation than we currently have of him. He wasn’t so “nice” and “loving” and seemed so “warm”… He wasn’t some guy behind a happy-looking costume playing church, ready to meet someone, pray, and send them along.

And now, I, for one, am tired of trying to play the Minnie Mouse Christian girl. For a few reasons. Number 1, I am really terrible at it. And, number 2, I am really terrible at it.

Let’s be real… there is truly nothing really “sweet” about me. I talk. A LOT. I cuss. I am sorta vulgar. I yell. I complain. I am hella emotional. I bounce around a lot and change my mind. I get bitter and resentful. I talk faster than I think sometimes. I can be needy, and sometimes search for validation in all the wrong places. So, behind my perpetual smile and over-responsibility to make other people happy, is a girl dying of heat stroke, which looks like anxiety and depression.

Because, not cussing or drinking or gossiping or making everyone happy, feel loved, or trying my best to seem like a character is going to make me more like Jesus? I am calling bullshit, which brings me to point number 2. I am really bad at playing Minnie Mouse.

In all my years of playing Minnie Mouse, never once has anyone come to Jesus. Maybe I have talked about it, or people felt more loved or happier… but, no one has transferred from death to life. Including myself. We’ve all just done what I said earlier: talked about our problems without an ability to change.

Playing some character who serves a lot, goes to church, does the right thing… is just a character, that doesn’t build your insides outward. I stopped drinking, sleeping around, went back to church, and journaled a lot. I served with all I had, gave myself away and my resources. I lost everything because I was being Minnie Mouse, and I am a more broken person now than I was before.

I am sorry that I have played a character in an attempt to make all of you “happier” — when really, I couldn’t get unweary long enough to not bring you further down.

I cannot make you happier, I cannot be your spring of life, I can’t even do that for myself.

Jesus wasn’t Mickey, because Jesus was filled with power. He filled everyone around him with power. We are meant to walk in power and hope and restoration…

Jesus was real. I am real. You are real.

So, what then?

Take the costume off for good, and let’s assess who we really are. Because, then we can reach real breakthrough.

Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to walk in power, and love, and restoration? To find the joy of the Lord in the Land of the living?

You are exhausted playing a role you were never meant to play. You are loved, and chosen, and beautiful exactly as you are. You don’t have to be Mickey, you just have to be you. Because you is more than enough to actually change the world.