Most of us have two lives.  The life we live, and the unlived life within us.  Between the two stands Resistance.

Resistance is the most toxic force on the planet.  It is the root of more unhappiness than poverty, disease, and erectile dysfunction.

How many of us have become drunks and drug addicts, developed tumors and neuroses, succumbed to painkillers, gossip, and compulsive cell phone use, simply because we don’t do that thing that our hearts, our inner genius, is calling us to?

If tomorrow morning by some stroke of magic every dazed and benighted soul woke up with the power to take the first step towards pursuing his or her dreams, every shrink in the directory would be out of business.  Prisons would stand empty.  The alcohol and tobacco industries would collapse, along with the junk food, cosmetic surgery, and infotainment businesses, not to mention pharmaceutical companies, hospitals, and the medical profession from top to bottom.  Domestic abuse would become extinct, as would addiction, obesity, migraine headaches, road rage, and dandruff.

You know, Hitler wanted to be an artist.  At eighteen he took his inheritance, seven hundred kronen, and moved to Vienna to live and study.  He applied to the Academy of Fine Arts and later to the School of Architecture.  Ever see one of his paintings?  Neither have I.  Resistance beat him.  Call it overstatement but I’ll say it anyway: it was easier for Hitler to start World War II than it was for him to face a blank square canvas. 

Pressfield goes on to share how he confronts Resistance in a practical and consistent way as a writer:

I get up, take a shower, have breakfast.  I read the paper, brush my teeth.  If I have phone calls to make, I make them…  It’s about ten-thirty now.  I sit down and plunge in.  When I start making typos, I know I’m getting tired.  That’s four hours or so.  I’ve hit the point of diminishing returns.  I wrap up for the way and power down.  It’s three, three-thirty.  The office is closed.  How many pages have I produced?  I don’t care.  Are they any good?  I don’t even think about it.  All that matters is that, for this day, for this session, I have overcome Resistance.

There’s a secret that real writers know that wannabe writers don’t, and the secret is this: It’s not the writing part that’s hard.  What’s hard is sitting down to write. 

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After reading that, I know Resistance has kept me from becoming who I really am and what I’m called to do.  Every time I sit down to write, a flood of pressing and “altruistic” activities that I “must” tend to suddenly rush into my mind.  It all sounds so right and holy, too.  “She really needs my advice in this area and I’m the only one with enough experience and expertise to give it to her.”  ”What would Jesus do?”  ”I haven’t hung out with him for awhile, I don’t want him to think I’m ignoring him because there’s a slight possibility he might be my future husband.”  “I need to go on a run right now, I had that extra helping of salmon last night.”  You know what I’m talking about.

But there’s no greater and selfless gift that I can give to the world than being who I am created to be and do what I’m created to do.  You know, that thing within us that whispers to us, “I am meant for greatness.  I was born to do something that’s never been done before and will never be done again because only I can do it.  I exist to change the world.”

Before I started this book, I thought I was doing a great job confronting Resistance.  After all, I:

1) overcame my recent addictions: Halo & MW3, TV, Half & Half honey boba (still working on the FB one)

2) revolutionized my health/diet regimen: lost 30 pounds, workout three times a week, eat like a rabbit, and possess tighter abs

3) had an “extreme” makeover in changing my appearance, demeanor, and personality

4) learned how to do make up, curl my hair, and dated guys after a 10 year draught

5) got my finances in order and actually have a semblance of a budget  (OK, well I keep track of it in my mind but at least its a start)

6) graduated from a good college with a 3.3 GPA.  It would’ve been a 3.6 had I not failed Greek.  There’s a reason that language is dead  -_-

7) taken many principled stands in the face of adversity whether in private or before stadiums & the California Senate

8) done what I can to help others in need

So I’ve confronted a lot of demons in my time on earth.  But I’ve realized that I have been running from the biggest one.  The Resistance to me being who I am created to be.

Sure, I have had the courage to shed off much of what wasn’t me but its easier to take off costumes and masks that I hide behind to play whatever role I’ve been assigned in life’s dramas.  The kicker is actually coming back on to the world’s stage without all the fluff & fanfare and facing the scrutiny knowing that the audience is no longer criticizing or judging a fabrication of myself but the real me.  In light of that, I’ve been cowering and procrastinating backstage for a long time.

Did you know that Henry Fonda threw up before each stage performance even when he was seventy-five?  Resistance might not ever leave your side.  But I know one thing, you can force him to go on stage with you which will annoy the hell out of him.

So are you ready to enter stage right?

I will by pushing the “publish” button

right…

now…

Religion is like spending all your time staring at yourself in the bedroom vanity mirror.  You compulsively brush your hair to make sure there are no stray strands and that your bob is perfectly coiffed and curled.  You obsessively hide every imperfection with “the works” concealer for that natural, flawless finish.  Even after spending hours creating that effortless yet dazzling look that make your eyes pop just so, it never seems to come out the way you imagined, no matter how hard you try. You convince yourself to move on and focus on enhancing your complexion by applying that new blush that promises a pure, rosy radiance.  Finally, you shape and plump your lips for that perfect pout.

You examine the finished product with methodical precision.  Frustrated with the slightest discrepancy of your eye shadow, you scrub it all off and start over again.  Then you consult with the beauty experts at your weekly appointment on Sundays.  They tell you the latest makeover tips and tricks for the immaculate look that seems to allude you every time.

All the while, your Husband waits patiently for that moment – when you’re finally satisfied enough to hop into bed with Him and just cuddle.  Sadly, that moment never arrives.

For at least an hour, I stared at a pile of rubble getting smashed by the waves.  It was the one thing I could connect with as I scanned the horizon for answers.  Here’s what I wrote:

I can either remain

hidden & dead

or

exposed & alive.

I get to choose.

Either I will drift aimlessly along

with the masses of sediments

carried by the invisible currents of indifference

that settle at the bottom

of stagnant waters

preserved in a jaded state,

drowning in the formaldehyde

of distractions and addictions,

hidden from life’s elements

to become petrified

as I’m wedged in

between eroded souls

accumulating layer upon layer

of pain, apathy, hatred and sorrow

resting the weight

of my broken life

upon those entombed beside me

until I become a hollow fossil

of what I used to be

or

I remain in the eye of life’s cruel storms

for this one reason:

in the center of them

I find the center of me.

My essence and core

will be revealed

for all to see

no longer concealed

by the barbed edges

malformed by tragedy.

All is washed away

stripping me of everything

that wasn’t really me

until all that remains

is what was always at the core of me… Love.

Lying like jaded, broken rubble

as the waves keep crashing over my heart;

who would’ve guessed that Love could be so devastating?

Like the clockwork of a pendulum’s blade swaying back and forth

rising and falling on the surface of the tides

each breaker slices into every crevice and crack

pounding and thrashing what is already shattered

until one day my heart emerges as a perfectly smooth stone

reflecting brilliantly in an otherwise nebulous, dark sea

the rays of the dawning sun.

With millions of fine, soothing pebbles of myself

washed along the shores of humanity like sand

softening the calloused feet of those who wander aimlessly

on life’s coast,

I remain in their shoes

long after their summer vacation strolls

to be an ever pesky reminder

with every calculated step they take

as they rush through their to-do lists

that there’s more to life than just skimming the surface

gingerly with your toes on red-letter holidays

designated by your smart phone

as if life really followed a day planner

and the enjoyment of it was meant to be a novelty

only to be toasted, sipped and swirled

but never swallowed,

lest we become so inebriated

that we forget to remain slaves.

Just as our lungs are made to breathe oxygen, our souls are designed to flourish in an atmosphere rich in love and meaning, security and significance, intimacy and adventure. But we don’t live in that world anymore. Far from it. Though we try to resolve the dilemma by disowning our desire, it doesn’t work. It is the soul’s equivalent of holding our breath. Eventually, we find ourselves gasping for air. - John Eldredge in Journey of Desire

When we think we’re not worthy of love, we instead are constantly in motion, giving, producing, working, being there for others, serving, helping; terrified of the moment when we’re actually still and at rest enough to discover the truth of whether we’re loved just as we are or only for what we can give and do.

I think this is one of the primary motivators of why I was addicted to ministry and romantic relationships.  It gave me a sense of purpose and meaning because I didn’t believe I was loved just as I am, only for what I could contribute to God and humanity.

I sought after their affirmation for my achievements, humor, intellect, communication skills, and talents, mistaking it for love when really it only reinforced the lie that I wasn’t loved just as I am, only for how I could benefit them.

With ministry, it can be so deceiving.  When it makes you feel so good about yourself and others are so grateful for what you’re doing, people are amazed by the revelations you share and encouraging you to keep up the good work, it’s hard to get off the spinning mouse wheel.  But we’ll never get to the destination of love if we’re only ministering and sharing our revelations to run away from our fears of being unlovable.

With relationships, it starts off looking so noble; living for the other person, sacrificing your desires and needs to make sure they’re happy and satisfied.  But the more we neglect ourselves in order to become what the other person wants and needs, a love deficit is created within because we weren’t loving and honoring ourselves in the process.  Because of that, a demand is made within that the person that you so “selflessly” loved and gave yourself to would now become your sense of worth and purpose: your identity.  But no human can bear that role of defining another person and love isn’t to be given with expectations or strings attached.

My good friend, Nancy Liaw, sent me the following e-mail while I started realizing that I have become what people wanted my entire life in order to be “loved”:

It’s like the movie, “Runaway Bride” starring Julia Roberts and Richard Gere.  In the film, Maggie Carpenter (Julia Roberts) was supposed to be married three times before.  But, she always, always bolts right at the altar; she never goes through with getting married.  And Ike Graham (Richard Gere) is out to find out why the heck she always runs. 

There’s this one scene where Ike confronts Maggie and says something to the effect of, “How do you like your eggs?”  And she thinks she knows, but she really has no idea.  Her favorite type of eggs has always been whatever her previous fiancés wanted and liked; she actually had no idea at all how she likes her eggs. 

When Maggie fesses up to the reason why she left those three guys at the altar, she shares, “When I was walking down the aisle, I was walking toward somebody who didn’t have any idea who I really was. And it was only half the other person’s fault, because I had done everything to convince him that I was exactly what he wanted. So it was good that I didn’t go through with it because it would have been a lie.”

So she goes through this exercise of trying to determine who she is – discovering how she like her eggs, what her favorite activities are, what her dreams and ambitions are – apart from her fiancés.  Who is the real woman, not the woman who has been engaged all these times and whose interests simply became what she felt her fiancés wanted, or what she thought they “should” be. 

Anyway, it made me think of you and your discovery of being comfortable in your own skin, of being the real Sarah Allis Yang – not who you think you ought to be, not who you wish you were, not who you think others want you to be, etc. But just Sarah Allis Yang, discovering exactly how does she like her eggs done – and loving and liking herself through and for it all.

This is why I believe God had to take me to a place for the past three years where I have been dependent instead of dependable, helpless instead of helpful, broken instead of stable, wounded instead of whole.  Unable to support myself, I have to rely on others to give to me without being able to pay them back.  Moving from place to place relying on the kindness of others, even living in a senior home for five months (a place that stands as a monument to how the world really feels about people who no longer can contribute to a “productive” society), to discover what being loved is all about, not about what I can give or do but simply because I exist.

He’s trying to show me that Sarah Allis Yang is loved not for how she can contribute but for who she is: the good, the bad, and the terrifying.  Only when we receive true love will we be able to give true love away.  We can’t give away what we don’t have.  The most selfless thing we can ever do is to be loved because the greatest deficit in the world is love.  When you receive love, you can’t help but to give it away because that is the nature of love.  And what this world needs more than anything is…

Do you turn a closed ear when truth turns to you?

Why do we fix our gaze,

mesmerized by glazed illusions

when death, hell, life, and love stare at our backs?

It’s a strange thing indeed when all is revealed

and there’s nowhere to turn

but to pain we’ve ignored.

Tragedies are sometimes our best friends

when we open the door

and happen to find our own souls.

Yet this is how I used to deal with my thirst for love.  After trying adamantly to resist the thirst in the barren desert of my brokenness, I would see a mirage in the desert.  That mirage for me was being with women sexually.  I would eventually charge at it like an animal out of sheer desperation.  But after the mirage of water disappeared, I saw what I was really doing… drinking sand.  And then I was left with an even greater thirst than when I first began.  That’s when I would beat myself up and say, “See all the trouble that is caused by your thirst?  Just deny the desire and be more disciplined!  It will go away!”  No it won’t.

Like vodka, it might look like water and even feel and move like water, but when it gets into your system, it’s actually a diuretic that dehydrates you rather than satiate your thirst.  I believe that’s what sin is like and why God hates it.  God loves us so much He hates that when we’re already dehydrated, we’re fooled into drinking a liquid that will only drain us of whatever little hydration we had to begin with instead of what will truly satisfy us.  God doesn’t hate that we need, hunger, thirst, and desire.  He made us that way to draw us into relationship with Him and others.  But when we meet those needs in ways that will harm and eventually kill us, anyone who cares for our well-being will hate those means and encourage us to stay away from them.

After trudging around in this desert for years and repeating the vicious cycle of chasing after mirages, drinking diuretics, and finally wanting to die, a Man named Jesus came along and said, “Its ok to thirst.  In fact, you were made to thirst.  Love is the water that you’re searching for and you’ve been looking for it in all the wrong places.  If you’re willing to trust Me, I can bring you into an oasis where if you stay there, you will never thirst again.”  That oasis is Himself.

Just as Jesus shared to the Samaritan woman settling for the mirage of fulfilling her thirst through a constant stream of men’s affections and never being satisfied, only through the Man who stood before her and now stands before us with the same invitation will we ever find what we’re all really searching for… love that will never run dry.

But because I felt ashamed of how I wanted to address this deficit, I dealt with it by becoming “Super-Sarah.”  I became very religious and I was a perfectionist.  I thought if I were perfect, I’d finally be loved the way I wanted to be by everyone around me and that would fill the void.

I could not accept myself as broken so I went into denial of wanting to be with women because I thought that was the best way of dealing with it.  I ignored that I had issues and my mantra was, “Fake it ‘til you make it.”  When people at church would ask me how I was doing, I would say with a forced smile, “Great!”  But the truth was light years from what I was depicting to others.  I was dying inside and falling apart every night.

When pretending just wasn’t cutting it, I would declare war on myself by going on aggressive fasts, rapidly reciting Scriptures about sexual immorality, praying in tongues for hours to try to purge myself of sin.  But I noticed something; the harder I was on myself, the more I wanted to sin.

It was like a pendulum; one day I’d be doing great and the next I would want to sin so badly I would have to lock myself in my apartment to keep myself from doing something awful.  I got very frustrated and I would secretly say in my heart, “What about the abundant life You promised, God?”  Of course I’d never say it aloud cuz I was such a “good Christian.”

But God hears the secret conversations of our heart whether we utter them or not and He spoke to me one day.  He asked me, “What exactly is it that you want when you want to be with a woman?”  At first I didn’t want to answer the question so I ignored Him.  But I could feel the question weighing on my heart throughout the day.  So I answered Him, “Sex.”  God asked me, “Is that really what you want?”  With my head hung low, I would respond, “Yes.  It is because I am an evil person.  I repent.”  He was quiet; then finally said, “Is it really about the sex or you endure the sex in order to get what you really want?”  I love how God cuts to the heart of the matter.

After I thought about it, I realized He was right.  The whole reason I want to be with a woman is because I wanted to be held, comforted, loved, and nurtured.  Basically, I was looking for a mother because I never formed that bond with my mom.  I heard God say, “Is it wrong to want to be held, comforted, loved, and nurtured?”  I didn’t know how to answer Him.  God showed me that every time I wanted to be comforted I beat myself up.  This is why I would swing from one extreme to another.  When someone wants to be comforted and they get beat up instead, guess what they’ll want even more?  Comfort.  Thus, the pendulum swing.

God spoke to me, “Why don’t you try this; every time you want to be with a woman, don’t come to me with your long speech on how unworthy you are and how great I am and how you don’t deserve to be in My presence.  Just come to Me and let Me hold you just as you are.  No explanations, reasons, excuses, or penitence; just come in all your brokenness and messiness and let me hold you.”

The Big Love Cup

I didn’t try it for a while and went back to my old religious ways pretending I never had this conversation with God.  But one day I was desperate because I knew my way wasn’t working.  So I finally said, “Fine.  Let’s do it Your way!”  I broke down weeping in all my failure and shame.  I felt so awful about myself when I felt Him embrace me and just hold me and rock me back and forth.  I fell asleep in His arms.

When I woke up, I felt better.  I didn’t feel the desire to be with a woman as much and there was nothing that I did other than be in His arms.  I realized something at that moment.  It was as if I had a big cup inside of me that needed to be filled with love.  I believe all of us have it because we were made in God’s image and God is love.  Therefore, we were made for love.  I believe that love is just as essential of a human need as food, water, and shelter. Repeated studies have shown that babies that are fed the same, have diapers changed the same, and have slept in the same cribs yet if some are not held on a regular basis their growth will become stunted, as documented in the now classic studies by Renee Spitz and Harry Harlow.  Love is necessary for our survival and overall well-being.

But the way that I learned to try to fill this big love cup inside of me was to fill it with sex.  This is because when I was a child, an older man that I trusted to love me sexually abused me. Therefore, I interpreted sex as love.  When I was with a woman, I did feel as though my cup was filled for the moment.  But inevitably when I woke up the next day, I felt emptier than when I began.  It was like the cup had little holes in the bottom of it and all the “love” leaked out as quickly as it poured in.  Then, like an addict, I would go back to her for another fix.  I sincerely feel sorry for the women I was with because I was using them like a drug until they had nothing left to give.  That’s when I would move on to my next victim with an even greater ravenous desire.

But I soon realized as I started going to God to get my needs met, it wouldn’t be filled overnight like it was with those girls.  But also, the love that did fill my cup didn’t leak out. It was still there the next day and the day after that.  After awhile of having God hold me and love on me and without any effort of my own, I didn’t want to be with women as much.  It wasn’t as if I was trying to stop thinking about them.  The desire just began fading away.  I believe it was because my legitimate need for love and comfort was finally being reconnected to the only source that can truly fill our “big love cup”, the God who is Love.