Maturity: A Tinted Lens

One of my earliest memories that I can grasp from my childhood is from the preschool I went to as a kid.  I was around three or four years old, I had long hair that was so blonde it turned white in the summertime, and my favorite part of school was when we got to learn about the letter of the day and the animals that accompanied that letter.  The rest of it is pretty blurry, unfortunately.  But there's one specific image from my preschool career that seems to resurface every once in awhile.

I don't know if I did this everyday, or just once a week.  But I remember looking out of our classroom door during snack time, where we had a perfect view of the gym from our table, and waiting.  I waited, and waited, and watched, and then it would happen.  Everyday, a different kid from one of the older grades (I never learned which, but I assume 5th or 6th grade) would come marching through the gym with confidence and would drop a slip off at the cafeteria.  I'm sure this was totally normal to the student, dropping off a slip of paper, but to me it appeared a great honor.  I remember thinking they looked so grown up and confident.  I was especially in awe at the fact that they were allowed to walk down the hall all the way to the gym by themselves.  How scary that seemed to me at the time.  They must have had such bravery, especially considering how large and ominously boring the older age classrooms had been compared to the welcoming brightness of my little classroom.  As a child, I often wondered if I would ever be that big.

I didn't know the word for it at the time, but that was my very first experience with the concept of maturity.

Later on, when I actually got to middle school, the tables had definitely turned.  From belch competitions between the guys, to totally unimportant "life or death" friendship drama amongst the girls, to parent related defiance that was most definitely uncalled for.  I remember thinking about little elementary school me and feeling silly about the fact that I had ever even looked up to this age group.  With each day I thought more like what's the big whoop?  Middle schoolers aren't that mature at all.  But HIGH SCHOOL... Now they're the real big whigs.  High schoolers knew so much more about themselves.  They had more friends, more opportunities, their own cars, and were so close to adulthood they could probably feel the importance surging just by entering freshman year!

Wrong again.

High school was definitely a time to grow and learn more about myself, but it was still everything but my idea of mature.  At every turn there were teenagers telling inappropriate jokes, guys challenging each other to eat things that would probably end in injury (hot peppers are a no-no, in case you were wondering), and the insecurity that comes with being exposed to extreme amounts of pressure from adults and teens alike.  My days admiring those kids who walked to the cafeteria were long gone at this point, but I was still at a dead-end road on my search for maturity.  Maybe college kids have the secret.  They seem to know a lot of what's going on, right?

But unfortunately, even after graduation I wasn't any closer to finding someone with maturity worthy of my undying admiration.  Only recently have I really understood why my trail ran cold, without a trace of treasure to be found.  What I did find can be summarized in this simple sentence...

Maturity is in the eye of the beholder.

In a couple of my earlier posts I've talked a lot about my insecurity, and how most of it sprouted from me putting myself down.  Most girls compare their hair, bodies, or fashion choices, and base their own personal worth off of that.  I was doing the same thing with maturity and intelligence.  What I didn't know was that this could be just as devastating.

Imagine with me for a minute...

Do you remember on National Treasure, the first one when they steal the Declaration of Independence, the scene where they find those cool glasses that were supposedly invented by Benjamin Franklin?  I've always been jealous of those glasses, the way they could switch colors, decode, and make things appear that weren't visible to the human eye.  That would be super cool, wouldn't it?  Unfortunately, it's a movie, so those cool Ben Franklin glasses don't actually exist.  Sad right?

Not so fast.

We may not have a physical pair of glasses, but we do have the mental pair.  They're even tinted, clear, red, blue, green, and switch back and forth just like the real deal.  But instead of hidden secret messages, these mental glasses determine our perspective.  They help us get our view and decide how we feel about the people, places, and situations around us.  Some of these lenses are helpful, like the Optimistic lens, or the lens of Forgiveness.  Others hinder us, like the lenses of Jealousy and Fear.  The most common, however, is the lens that has an impact on all the others...

The lens of Insecurity.

Our lenses are important to remember because they determine how we view maturity, and who we allow ourselves to admire.  Unfortunately, since insecurity is so common, most of us see maturity through a tinted lens.  We mistake security for maturity, even though they can be two completely different things.  Here's a look at my personal perspective...

Someone who's insecure will try to be someone they're not in order to gain security.

Someone who's mature doesn't need security, because they're already comfortable in their own skin.

See what I'm getting at?  We keep looking for that all incredible age range, job title, or status to look up to for a feeling of maturity, and are constantly let down.  That's because the only place to find true maturity is in a person who is totally content with who God made them to be.  And more importantly, in God himself.

If someone respects you above themselves, and God above all else, you can bet that they have found comfort in their own skin.

Still wondering where you can find maturity?  Get rid of the tinted lenses.  Decide once and for all to be yourself, to honor God above all else, and to see everyone through the same eyes.  Find others who respect who they were created to be and respect you on the same level.  Believe me, they're out there, and once you're comfortable in your own skin you'll begin seeing them all over the place.

This is a lesson I took a long time to learn, and I've wasted a lot of time looking for maturity that wasn't there.  I hope that you choose to turn your eyes elsewhere, and allow God to show you what real, true maturity looks like.  After all, he's the only one who knows.

Have something to share?  Have you experienced a maturity transition like this?  Let me know in the comment section!