Venom
When I moved to the jungle,
I prayed, “Lord, please, no snakes”
Only to discover
Something fiercer lay in wait
I glimpsed it in the mirror
It lurked beneath my phone
It even slithered onto me
When I was all alone
A thousand times bitten, I’m finally shy
Its venom is deadly
Self-pity, it promises relief
Self-pity, if I let it sink its teeth
Self-pity, an insidious attack
Self-pity whispers everything I lack
Without a pause to question
I obeyed it to a tee
And plunged into its narrative
Of anguish starring me
Resenting those who care for me
Why can’t they do enough?
And when will they appreciate
That I’ve endured so much?
A thousand times bitten, I’m finally shy
Its venom is deadly
Self-pity, its poison oozes deep
Self-pity, it lulls my love to sleep
Self-pity warns me to take more than I give
Self-pity, what a wretched way to live
Desperate for antidotes
I’m struck by rays of sun
Their radiance illuminates
And warms my angry wounds
I gaze at the glory
Which silhouettes a tree
A snake’s suspended from its branch
Hope rises up in me
A thousand times bitten, I’m finally shy
Its venom is deadly
Self-pity, you don’t get to sink your teeth
Self-pity, I won’t let you taint my grief
Self-pity, healing blood has been transfused
Self-pity, you’re no match for gratitude
Goodbye, you pitiful fool
The music
As you might guess, I wrote this song the past few months, following my move to Preah Vihear province. The lyrics mostly came first, partly in Phnom Penh (away from my guitar) during my driver's license saga. Wanting a Khmer flavor, I was inspired by music blasting from my neighbors' yard when I returned to PV, which influenced my hook, chord progressions, and melody in the chorus.
This is my first song in which I combine finger picking and strumming with a plastic pick, and those transitions have taken extra practice. Maybe fitting for a song inspired by transitions.
The lyrics
I was brainstorming song topics, and "please no snakes" was first, while "self-pity" was at the end. Suddenly my brain merged the two.
My lyrics explanations below are detailed. Feel free to skip around to lyrics you're curious about.
Section 1: Naming the problem
"When I moved to the jungle"
I live in the province capital with 20,000 people, on a paved street across from a hospital, not in the treetops with a pack of tigers. But as my teammate Joel says, "This place was all jungle until recently, and the jungle wants it back." Depending whom I'm talking with, I often say I've moved "to the province" or "to the country," but they don't quite capture life in one of the most jungle-y provinces. The video's first two images display the jungle flavor of the empty lot behind the wall around my house.
"I prayed, Lord, please, no snakes
Only to discover something fiercer lay in wait"
Joel has killed five cobras at his house in twenty years here. A guy in our Bible school sees snakes at his house at least monthly. My housemate Carolyn once reached for the light switch in a dark bathroom in our house and touched a snake. *shudder* Before arriving, I knew snakes were common, and I'm thankful to have seen just one dead and one alive anywhere this year.
But it never occurred to me to be concerned about other venomous creatures like scorpions and centipedes, both of which have appeared in our yard and house. Nothing has harmed me, but the irony makes me laugh, and I look out for a wider range of monsters now.
 |
| A scorpion exiting the dining room earlier this year |
I came to see these creatures as a metaphor for my struggle with self-pity. Though it's not new to me, it wasn't on my radar as a potential hazard of life here. Single missionaries rarely move to the province, and for years I said I wouldn't be one of them. I wrestled hard with my decision to move to Preah Vihear, and I second-guessed it many times in the months between committing (last July) and arriving (this January).
I kept asking, "Can I thrive?" Can I thrive when I'm one of two foreign women in a three-hour radius? Can I thrive as a childless single in a culture that defines womanhood narrowly? Can I thrive when I'm surrounded by great material and spiritual needs and my capacity to help is so limited? Can I thrive when my former community in Phnom Penh is now five hours away and experiencing rapid turnover? But I never asked myself, can I thrive when self-pity is breeding in the shadowy corners of my life?
"I glimpsed it in the mirror
It lurked beneath my phone
It even slithered onto me when I was all alone"
I dove right into life in PV. I love my team, my students, my work here. And I was so eager to get to a point of feeling helpful and connected and established that I overcommitted (also not new for me). Whenever I withdrew from the frenzy, my difficult emotions threatened to overwhelm me. Navel-gazing and social media didn't help.
"A thousand times bitten, I'm finally shy
Its venom is deadly"
I was excited to have Sara Groves, one of my favorite ever singer-songwriters, facilitate the songwriting feedback group that helped me with this song. I used to have three different pre-choruses and no repetition except the word "self-pity." To streamline the song and build cohesion, she highlighted "A thousand times bitten, I'm finally shy" and "Its venom is deadly" as key lines from the three pre-choruses that could be repeated. Now I prefer the song this way.
Self-pity may start off subtly, and I've often confused it with healthier practices like "acknowledging my emotions" or "thinking through challenges." Until recently, I wouldn't have said I had a major problem with self-pity, but looking back I can see how I've fed it for years.
I'm finally wising up and viewing self-pity as a menace I can reject, not a sympathetic friend or a helpful reflection tool. When I asked, "Can I thrive?", self-pity answered, "No!" I'm realizing it's partially right: self-pity and I can't both thrive. This town ain't big enough for the two of us.
Self-pity, it promises relief
Self-pity, if I let it sink its teeth
Self-pity, an insidious attack
Self-pity whispers everything I lack
I think the attraction of self-pity is its sense of indignance: "I deserve better." Sometimes anger is easier than sadness. Self-pity distorts reality to bring an momentary self-esteem boost, followed by increased distress and confusion. It accelerates my emotions into a swirling vortex that tries to consume my whole view of life.
Section 2: Understanding the problem
Without a pause to question
I obeyed it to a tee
And plunged into its narrative
Of anguish starring me
Resenting those who care for me
Why can’t they do enough?
And when will they appreciate
That I’ve endured so much?
To illuminate my new diagnosis, I turned to the Internet. Wikipedia says this emotion involves "self-centered sorrow and pity toward the self" related to one's own suffering, and can be "'directed towards others with the goal of attracting attention, empathy, or help.'"
Nobody recommends self-pity. From Forbes to Psychology Today to Alcoholics Anonymous, sources warn that self-pity can be a "deadly character defect" and "downward spiral," "repel[ling] those who'd like to support you" and "sabotaging... success."
In his excellent pair of sermons, James Jennings argues that even worse than harming ourselves and our relationships, self-pity attacks God's glory. He quotes John Piper, whose book Future Grace identifies self-pity as pride:
"Boasting is the response of pride to success. Self-pity is the response of pride to suffering. [...] Boasting sounds self-sufficient; self-pity sounds self-sacrificing. But the need arises from a wounded ego, and the desire is not really for others to see them as helpless but as heroes. [...] It is the response of unapplauded pride."
Self-pity is not mentioned explicitly in the Bible, but we can infer it in various characters like Sarah, Leah, Moses, and John Mark. Jonah wishes he were dead when God forgives his enemies and lets his shade plant wither. Martha complains to Jesus, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself?" The prodigal son's furious older brother sulks outside the welcome-home party.
Each of these three stories ends with the self-pitying character receiving a valid rebuke from God and an invitation into joy. They leave me to wonder, "How would I respond in their shoes?" These stories are themselves a rebuke to me, an invitation to cringe at the crude charcoal sketch self-pity has drawn of my life, and to see in vibrant color again.
Section 3: Addressing the problem
This was by far the hardest section to write. What is the antivenom for self-pity?
My quest took me on a weeks-long foray into the depths of my personal experience, biblical references to snakes, obscure corners of the rhyming dictionary, 1950s missions history, and the unfamiliar world of snake milking. I even consulted a medical professional. After all that, I had to condense it down to 79 words, 15 of which were repeated from previous sections. Sometimes I doubted I'd ever finish this song, but the process brought some exciting revelations.
Desperate for antidotes
I’m struck by rays of sun
Their radiance illuminates
And warms my angry wounds
One night during a self-pity attack, I went out to lock up the gate and moonlight flooded my vision and my heart. I found myself dancing on the driveway to... what else... "Dancing in the Moonlight," feeling seen and loved and cheered on by God. So for a while, this section said "I'm startled by the stars." But starlight is not as bright as moonlight, and even moonlight can't even illuminate wounds well, let alone warm them.
I realize that warming my wounds probably wouldn't feel comforting, especially in the Cambodian heat. But if self-pity numbs pain and distorts the truth, I might need warmth and illumination in my wake-up call. I also liked the sun imagery as a symbol of God.
I gaze at the glory
Which silhouettes a tree
A snake’s suspended from its branch
Hope rises up in me
Part of the key to escaping self-pity is to look up and see something bigger than my current situation... something glorious. Sunlight and the sky are literal examples that have helped me.
My favorite part of this whole process was rediscovering Numbers 21, or the "Snake on a Pole" story. God punishes the Israelites in the wilderness by allowing venomous snakes to bite them. To be healed, they must look up at a bronze snake on a pole, which has no healing power in itself but demonstrates their faith in God.
I didn't remember what they were being punished for, but it's... drumroll please... self-pity! They've been grumbling against God and Moses:
But the people grew impatient on the way; they spoke against God and against Moses, and said, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread! There is no water! And we detest this miserable food!” (Numbers 21:4-5)
That's right, folks, even the Bible connects self-pity with venom. The serpent on the pole foreshadows Christ hanging from the cross (also described as a tree), receiving our punishment and bearing our suffering. So "A snake's suspended from its branch" is meant to point to Christ's victory over Satan (who appeared in the garden of Eden as a snake) and over the sin of self-pity (here linked to snakes).
Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him will have eternal life. (John 3:14-15)
Self-pity, you don’t get to sink your teeth
Self-pity, I won’t let you taint my grief
Multiple sources mentioned that recognizing self-pity can interrupt its vicious cycle. I can reject it without rejecting grief and other difficult emotions. The Psalms, drenched with emotions, cry out to God and focus on Him rather than on self.
Self-pity is never inevitable. James Jennings' sermons highlight the example of Barbara Youderian. The night she learned in 1956 that her husband had been martyred as a missionary in the jungle of Ecuador, she wrote that she was
"[...] trying to explain the peace I have. I want to be free of self-pity. It is a tool of Satan to rot away a life. I am sure that this is the perfect will of God."
(quoted in Elisabeth Elliot's Through Gates of Splendor)
Of course, the ultimate example is Jesus. The only human in history to be entitled to self-pity, he never gave into it. Jesus wept tears of blood in the garden of Gethsemane, knowing he was innocent and about to endure unparalleled suffering. But he submitted to his Father's will, going to the cross "for the joy set before him."
Self-pity, healing blood has been transfused
Do you know what antivenom is? I didn't until the marvelous Liz Helm sent me some articles. First you milk creatures like snakes and spiders to extract their venom. Then you inject the venom into a domestic animal, usually a horse or sheep, whose blood produces protective antibodies that can be harvested for human use.
Does that sound familiar? A lamb who suffered the results of our sin, overcame it, and gave his blood to rescue us? Jesus' blood flows in my veins to guard me against future attacks of self-pity. I love finding these metaphors for salvation built into the operations of biology.
"'He himself bore our sins' in his body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; 'by his wounds you are healed." (1 Peter 2:24)
Self-pity, you’re no match for gratitude
Nearly every source I found, secular or Christian, agreed that thankfulness is a key solution to self-pity. The two are mutually incompatible. While self-pity says, "I deserve better than I've received," gratitude says, "I've received better than I deserve." My gratitude journal has been a tremendous help to me the past decade plus, and I write in it often.
Everyone has something to be grateful for, but nobody has more than Christians. As Tim Keller writes:
The gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope.
Believing the gospel makes my challenges pale, my pride melt, and my gratitude overflow. Self-pity can be truly deadly... and I've received undeserved new life and a way of escape.
Goodbye, you pitiful fool
This was Sara's last contribution, changing "piteous" to "pitiful." It even feels better in my mouth.
This line brings me the catharsis that self-pity never delivered. And this line, along with the rest of the song, have already helped me ward off or interrupt its venomous visits.
A thousand bites in, I know which of us is destined to thrive.
