Somewhere along the way, America has turned the cross into a trendy symbol for peace and love. You see a cross, and you've been trained to think "Christ came. Victory is mine. Everything is ok." We all smile at church. We aren't allowed to let out our honest, desperate cries because everyone else has it all together. Cover up your pain and sing in the choir so everyone sees Christ in you. The cross paid for it all, so its all good. This semester I have frequently heard the statement "Church is the Christian prom." At first I only understood it a little bit. But my eyes are opening.
I am heart broken. I am in pain. I am disappointed and confused. I am in a hard place. I don't have cancer. My parents aren't getting a divorce. We have not gone bankrupt. To those facing these situations, my issues would seem light. But that does not erase my pain. Christians are not here to sit around and compare sufferings and try to make each others' pain seem pathetic. "There is always someone worse off." That's true. But that does nothing at all for everyone else who hurts. I want permission to experience grief. I find myself longing for the church that I am unable to attend currently. Why? Because I want to walk in the house of God with my pain and freely and corporately worship with people who also have issues. Why do I feel the need to heal from my heartache before I attend my home church? Is it because I know I can't fake a smile good enough to fool them? Or because the honest expression would be shocking and uncomfortable? Is it because if I go to the alter and weep, the assumption is that I have fallen away and am overcome by the desire to be back in God's will? How can that be an assumption? A Christ-follower shouldn't even be blogging about this issue because the issue is senseless when we look at the cross.
Jesus said we would have trouble in this world. Jesus said we would suffer. Our hearts will be broken because this place does not work according to the design within us. Should pain not be expected? Where did we get the idea that following Jesus meant sunny skies and fulfilled dreams? Driscoll said "Many of us come to Jesus so we never have to go where He went." How did we conjure up that logic? Jesus suffered and said "follow me." How does that request come to mean "live my victory, but not anything else"?Somehow we have been deceived. I mean- He lived that life as an example for us. Why would He have His life recorded if the principles were not going to be applicable. If we are going to follow Him, we are going to face pain just like He did. So let's stop acting like church is "Show how easy life is with Jesus" time. Let's worship Him in our pain. Let's worship Him in our joy. Let's worship Him in our confusion. Reality is that we signed up to live a life following the guidance of a man who knew sorrow well. We did not accept a Savior who offered a comfy-cozy existence until heaven. I want to worship Him honestly. I did not know I would feel the heartache I am now. And I don't know the heartache that will come. But I need to recognize that it will come. And He has to be enough. He has to be enough. I don't have to paint a whimsical facade of a victorious life. My life-portrait will include my own failure, my heartbreak, my doubt, my fear, and my trials. But its not about me. It's about His radiant and unending beauty. I don't have to pretend that I'm there, because I'm not. I cling to a blood-stained cross, not a velvet couch. Church, we cling to an object of torture. That's our symbol of hope. Let's drop our masks and worship.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Light from Darkness
Last night was the Walk for Life for the Crisis Pregnancy Center! I so loved being a part of it. Towards the end of the evening, everyone took a silent lap around the track. It was dark, but we found our way due to the luminaries. The inside of the track had ~200 luminaries representing the number of babies that had been saved from abortion due to the Center. The outside of the track was marked by ~400 luminaries representing the number of abortions that had been performed in Gaston County in 2008.
Small candles in white paper bags. Light. Lights, each existing due to darkness. Every candle burns to memorialize a moment of darkness. I took my lap on this outside edge of the track, walking and praying aside every burning token of human life and human sin. People who never lived outside the womb. Children who never saw Jesus's fingerprint on a flower. Infants who never had the chance to change their mothers' worlds. Souls who never encountered situations created for them. My throat tightens at the overwhelming deception in our country, our world. God made every single life. He knows everything about that person. He made them with tendencies and quirks, all designed for that individual's path to sanctification.
Still even in darkness, God is light. Even after sin, there is a candle. Even what was meant for evil, God can use for good.
Each flickering tongue, a life halted by sin, yet no less precious. We pause to remember these lives. Slain innocence. Still the Light shines.
Father, you are beautiful, and I long for you.
Small candles in white paper bags. Light. Lights, each existing due to darkness. Every candle burns to memorialize a moment of darkness. I took my lap on this outside edge of the track, walking and praying aside every burning token of human life and human sin. People who never lived outside the womb. Children who never saw Jesus's fingerprint on a flower. Infants who never had the chance to change their mothers' worlds. Souls who never encountered situations created for them. My throat tightens at the overwhelming deception in our country, our world. God made every single life. He knows everything about that person. He made them with tendencies and quirks, all designed for that individual's path to sanctification.
Still even in darkness, God is light. Even after sin, there is a candle. Even what was meant for evil, God can use for good.
Each flickering tongue, a life halted by sin, yet no less precious. We pause to remember these lives. Slain innocence. Still the Light shines.
Father, you are beautiful, and I long for you.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Letting Them Go
Last night I was telling my friend Stephanie about counseling people at the Crisis Pregnancy Center. It is so rewarding. It is terrifying and thrilling all at the same time. I told her about sharing the Gospel and women getting saved. It is so outrageous to be a tool in someone's salvation and to get to witness it! Then we talked about what happens when a client doesn't accept Jesus. What do you do?
She said, "I would want to just keep them there forever."
I said, "I know! Its so hard to draw the line. You can't make the decision for them. You just have to do your best to help them understand what an important decision it is and urge them towards Him. You know? You can't beat them in the head with the Bible. Sometimes you just have to say 'OK. Could I pray for you before you go?' and let them go. But honestly sometimes I want so much to lock the door and not let them leave until they choose Him."
I was mentally replaying this conversation while I was in the shower this morning. When this situation happens with clients, my heart goes crazy. "Don't you understand? This is your eternity in the balance! This is Jesus! He loves you!" It is downright torture to watch someone walk away from His love. But I have to let them go. I started thinking, "Why? I wish I could choose it for them. Its the best thing for them anyway."
Then I hear God's voice, "It's love." Spiritual smack in the face. These clients aren't even walking away from me. They are rejecting Him. How much more must He be tortured when a soul continues without Him! But He lets them go. It's love. It's been this way since the Garden. He let Adam and Eve choose because He loved them. Then I recognize what torture He must feel from me. Yes, I have accepted Him as my Savior, but I sin every day. At some point during my day, I choose evil. I reject His ways. And He lets me! Even though He knows what is best for me, He lets me reject Him. How painful. He's made His point throughout eternity. His Word is always available to me. He has already said how important every decision between good and evil is. But He doesn't choose for me.
He lets me go. Of course, He is ever pursuing me, but He lets me have the option to choose Him or me. Love is crazy. He endured the torture of the cross. But He still endures torture everyday as He chases after us even when we don't choose Him. How much He must love us!
How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He would give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure
She said, "I would want to just keep them there forever."
I said, "I know! Its so hard to draw the line. You can't make the decision for them. You just have to do your best to help them understand what an important decision it is and urge them towards Him. You know? You can't beat them in the head with the Bible. Sometimes you just have to say 'OK. Could I pray for you before you go?' and let them go. But honestly sometimes I want so much to lock the door and not let them leave until they choose Him."
I was mentally replaying this conversation while I was in the shower this morning. When this situation happens with clients, my heart goes crazy. "Don't you understand? This is your eternity in the balance! This is Jesus! He loves you!" It is downright torture to watch someone walk away from His love. But I have to let them go. I started thinking, "Why? I wish I could choose it for them. Its the best thing for them anyway."
Then I hear God's voice, "It's love." Spiritual smack in the face. These clients aren't even walking away from me. They are rejecting Him. How much more must He be tortured when a soul continues without Him! But He lets them go. It's love. It's been this way since the Garden. He let Adam and Eve choose because He loved them. Then I recognize what torture He must feel from me. Yes, I have accepted Him as my Savior, but I sin every day. At some point during my day, I choose evil. I reject His ways. And He lets me! Even though He knows what is best for me, He lets me reject Him. How painful. He's made His point throughout eternity. His Word is always available to me. He has already said how important every decision between good and evil is. But He doesn't choose for me.
He lets me go. Of course, He is ever pursuing me, but He lets me have the option to choose Him or me. Love is crazy. He endured the torture of the cross. But He still endures torture everyday as He chases after us even when we don't choose Him. How much He must love us!
How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He would give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Jonah
Jonah 3:1-2
Then the word of the Lord came to Jonah the second time saying, "Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and call out against it the message that I tell you."
The second time.
God's message and purpose is unchanging. His plan had not changed. He wanted to save the Ninevites. God was incredibly patient to go to Jonah a second time, to allow him to still be a part of this plan. Maybe Jonah wasn't asking to be used by God before refusing the marching orders, or maybe he was. I don't know.
First of all, this was not Jonah's mom telling him to get his goats out her flower bed. This was God speaking. Jonah should really not have to be told twice.
Next, I realize that the verse does not say "Jonah, would you like to do something for me in Nineveh?" But while God is certainly telling Jonah to go, he is allowing Jonah to be a part of something great. God doesn't need Jonah to do this. He could send whoever He wanted to, but He chooses Jonah. Even after Jonah runs, God pursues him. He wants Jonah to be a part of this. God's patience is beautiful to me in this passage. So the situation probably didn't seem beautiful to Jonah- go tell a fiercely violent enemy that they are going to die. I imagine it looked absurd to him. But as I read it, I was thinking "Jonah, God is gonna use you to bring a people to Him! Go! Go! You get to be a part of something wonderful! God is being so good to give you another chance. He wants to use you."
And then the sword aspect of God's Word comes. Stab. I wonder how many times God has had to tell me something twice. Not only I am completely arrogant and retarded not to obey the first time, but I'm also just as narrow minded as Jonah. I can sense God leading me in a direction that's scary and uncomfortable. And since that's all my shaded eyes see, I hesitate. God tells me twice and more. He is so patient not to blow out by obstinate life candle right then. He is also so kind to offer me a position in His plan, even after I say "No thanks" or "I'm sorry. What?" I remember several things in my life that I would have never chosen to go through, but He led me through them anyway. Even when the situations were terrifying and painful, I was a part of something beautiful. How different could my perspective of pain be if I recognized the everlasting beauty of God's plan and His goodness to include me in it.
I have to stop and thank God- For everything I've been through. For what I'm going through. For what I will go through- because although it may not be appealing now, I can sense His voice echoing my comments to Jonah: "Come on, Chanel. I know it's scary. But I'm gonna do something incredible here, and I want you to be a part of it."
Then the word of the Lord came to Jonah the second time saying, "Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and call out against it the message that I tell you."
The second time.
God's message and purpose is unchanging. His plan had not changed. He wanted to save the Ninevites. God was incredibly patient to go to Jonah a second time, to allow him to still be a part of this plan. Maybe Jonah wasn't asking to be used by God before refusing the marching orders, or maybe he was. I don't know.
First of all, this was not Jonah's mom telling him to get his goats out her flower bed. This was God speaking. Jonah should really not have to be told twice.
Next, I realize that the verse does not say "Jonah, would you like to do something for me in Nineveh?" But while God is certainly telling Jonah to go, he is allowing Jonah to be a part of something great. God doesn't need Jonah to do this. He could send whoever He wanted to, but He chooses Jonah. Even after Jonah runs, God pursues him. He wants Jonah to be a part of this. God's patience is beautiful to me in this passage. So the situation probably didn't seem beautiful to Jonah- go tell a fiercely violent enemy that they are going to die. I imagine it looked absurd to him. But as I read it, I was thinking "Jonah, God is gonna use you to bring a people to Him! Go! Go! You get to be a part of something wonderful! God is being so good to give you another chance. He wants to use you."
And then the sword aspect of God's Word comes. Stab. I wonder how many times God has had to tell me something twice. Not only I am completely arrogant and retarded not to obey the first time, but I'm also just as narrow minded as Jonah. I can sense God leading me in a direction that's scary and uncomfortable. And since that's all my shaded eyes see, I hesitate. God tells me twice and more. He is so patient not to blow out by obstinate life candle right then. He is also so kind to offer me a position in His plan, even after I say "No thanks" or "I'm sorry. What?" I remember several things in my life that I would have never chosen to go through, but He led me through them anyway. Even when the situations were terrifying and painful, I was a part of something beautiful. How different could my perspective of pain be if I recognized the everlasting beauty of God's plan and His goodness to include me in it.
I have to stop and thank God- For everything I've been through. For what I'm going through. For what I will go through- because although it may not be appealing now, I can sense His voice echoing my comments to Jonah: "Come on, Chanel. I know it's scary. But I'm gonna do something incredible here, and I want you to be a part of it."
Saturday, July 10, 2010
The Walk
On June 29th I took a long and wonderful walk down the beach. I was by myself. I walked at the water's edge where the ocean lessened the summer's heat. I have no idea how long I was away from my family. I lost all track of time. I was just walking- sometimes thinking, sometimes not. Just walking- and it was wonderful. Occasionally I would look down and spot a perfectly beautiful seashell and snatch it up before the waves reclaimed it. I would be perfectly excited about my new found shell for the following few minutes. I wasn't looking for shells. I just happened to notice them and pick them up along the walk. Upon my return, I gave the shells to my aunt because she collects them. At this point the shells didn't mean much to me anyways. It wasn't about the shells. It was about the walk.
This incidence spoke to me tremendously. My close friends and family can testify that I am a work-a-holic. I am so easily consumed by work and by preparations. I shamefully admit that my tendency is to be completely focused on preparing for the next step. And this focus is not enjoyable either. I work so hard all the time saying that it will be over soon and will be worth the work. I treat the completion like a milestone that must be reached. Then that moment of completion finally comes. I am satisfied for a moment then begin to miserably prepare for something else. I hate myself when I recognize this tendency.
God showed me something through that beach walk. Life is not about my self-created milestones. The walk was not about finding the next shell. Just as I found beautiful shells without the search for them being my focus, I can complete tasks and reach new levels without driving all my energy into accomplishing those things. I painfully admit that at the end of my life, I will not sweetly recall my GPA, my research hours, or my exercise regimen. These are the shells. I will recall my life as a whole, the walk. And again I recognize that my life will probably be 5% shell and 95% walk. So it seems I need to change my focus. Certainly the shells are beautiful and unique. But there's joy to be had in the walk.
Father, teach me to joy in the walk.
This incidence spoke to me tremendously. My close friends and family can testify that I am a work-a-holic. I am so easily consumed by work and by preparations. I shamefully admit that my tendency is to be completely focused on preparing for the next step. And this focus is not enjoyable either. I work so hard all the time saying that it will be over soon and will be worth the work. I treat the completion like a milestone that must be reached. Then that moment of completion finally comes. I am satisfied for a moment then begin to miserably prepare for something else. I hate myself when I recognize this tendency.
God showed me something through that beach walk. Life is not about my self-created milestones. The walk was not about finding the next shell. Just as I found beautiful shells without the search for them being my focus, I can complete tasks and reach new levels without driving all my energy into accomplishing those things. I painfully admit that at the end of my life, I will not sweetly recall my GPA, my research hours, or my exercise regimen. These are the shells. I will recall my life as a whole, the walk. And again I recognize that my life will probably be 5% shell and 95% walk. So it seems I need to change my focus. Certainly the shells are beautiful and unique. But there's joy to be had in the walk.
Father, teach me to joy in the walk.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Love Story
SPOILER WARNING: READ THE GRACE BY WHICH WE STAND (BY WENDY DUKE) BEFORE READING FURTHER.
I just finished reading a book about a little girl, Savannah Duke. I know the girl as an acquaintance because I attend her parents' Sunday school class during the school semesters. Savannah has a very special story. While in utero, doctors found through an ultrasound that she only had one leg. As you can imagine, this was horrifying news to her parents who had fought many awful battles trying to get pregnant. I can't tell the story like her mother, Wendy, does, but I want to reflect on the love story God has written thus far.
During an amniocentesis, Savannah's fetal hand reached up and grabbed the shaft of the needle. God speaks His awesome power through an unborn child on a tv screen.
Upon Savannah's birth, doctors discover a tumor is the cause of her underdeveloped limb. After a hopeful period, doctors determine the tumor is malignant. A baby with cancer- before she was even born. Following chapters detail heartbreaking disappointments, torturous hospital visits, and a mom who is losing the battle. Several times she speaks of collapsing into her husband's arms and weeping. She talks about him giving injections to their daughter when she couldn't. Her husband prayed when she was curled up so tightly in her defense that she did not know how to trust this God that she had proclaimed for years. God speaks His sensitive strength through a heartbroken husband.
Crushing blow after crushing blow, the year and a half after Savannah's birth contained a few glimmers of hope that were quickly followed by seemingly endless tragedies. Mom is fiercely protective of her angel. Mom is dying inside. God sends people- lots of people. Organizations and individuals hold fundraisers that bring at least $30,000 (if i kept count correctly) to the Dukes' doorsteps. Three months of a calendar is filled with people scheduled to provide their meals. A fellow mom of a young cancer patient takes from her own fund to give to Wendy. People who don't even know this family sacrifice more than money to help a little girl. God sings His beautiful lullaby over a drowning family through people unaware of their own impact.
I cry with every episode of Wendy's desperation. "Where is God?" she cries to her husband is a moment filled with darkness. She is struck in the face with her own inability to save her precious offspring. A horrific reality I can't imagine. Even when she stubbornly blocks Him out, she says, He was still following her waiting for her to turn to Him. I wish I could put into words what this picture does to my heart. I have faced horrible events. I have clung to Him for life even when I didn't want to live anymore. I have never faced losing a child, but I feel my heart ring with the genuine pain and desperation in her written word. There are dark, dark moments when only God is there. Wendy surrendered her will in a hospital, after walking out on a doctor's report I believe. She fell on her knees. She wept. She gave up. She stopped trying. She let go. She had pulled away from Jesus trying to deal with her pain. He was right there, she knew. She says she high-fived Him in the good times and doubted Him in the bad. But not anymore. She trusted Him. She said "You can have it all, but I need you to help me." God speaks His pursuit through a suffering,stubborn mom.
He loves us. so much. It's overwhelming. It the worst circumstances imaginable, He is there. At the climax of pain, He is beside us asking us to trust Him. I have been wanting to experience more of His love. I feel like dirt saying "God, could you show me your love?" Ironic, since i was made from dirt. I would think this. Then, i would think "Look at the cross, you idiot. What more of a love display do you want?". Apathy is a disgusting thing. I hate it. It's like accidentally walking through a spider web. You didn't see it coming. Then all of a sudden "Ah! Ew! Get off!". You pick at it and vigorously wipe your arms, but you can still feel it there. You can't do anything to get rid of it completely. I have been asking to be consumed by His love. " I know that you love me more than anyone ever could, but I want to know it more." Hence the name of this blog- "Jesus, I want to rest in your romance." My closest moments with God have been the ones where I was in the most pain or in the most different situation. Please don't misunderstand- I seek God in good times too. There is just something awesome about a moment when you have nothing but God. When everything else is removed..
These thoughts take me back to Lili. Lili Bryson. She was the step-mother of my boyfriend at the time. She was beautiful. She was God's love. She was joy. She was kindness. She spoke truth to me when I was clouded by darkness. She was a light in my life. We were very close, and I cherish every memory I have with her. She had a son, named Christian, who is very near to my heart. I babysat Christian a lot. Some of my funniest memories with Lili are late nights when she would return from a business dinner with Mr. Bryson and all "those snobby people." We would laugh at how uncomfortable she was and how she would rather be anywhere else. I loved Lili very much. She was always light.
December of 2007, my family was at the Brysons' house. Their family was going to visit Mr. Bryson's parents in SC. Then Mr. Bryson, his dad, and Blake (bf at the time) were going to spend the holidays in Australia. Lili and Christian would spend Christmas with Lili's parents in Mexico. I remember the day very clearly. I sat in the floor with Blake and Christian looking at a gingerbread house they made before we all said goodbye. When we were getting ready to leave, I had a very urgent feeling come over me. I remember feeling almost worried about something. I felt very emotional very quickly-something was wrong. Nevertheless, I tried to ignore it and not be ruled by emotions. I hugged Lili, for an extra long time for some reason, and told her I loved her. I said "I'll miss you." We all said our goodbyes. I got in the car, choked up for some invisible reason. That would be the last time I saw Lili.
Lili had planned to have some medical procedures in Mexico. Few knew about the plans. Medical care is indeed better here, but that's her home, so she felt more comfortable there. Lili got an infection from the procedure. All this being around New Years, I was at a retreat with a friend's church, unaware of the circumstances. When i got home, my friend Katelyn called me and said "Hey, I was wondering if you had any more news on Lili? I can't get much info." Of course, I had no idea what she was talking about. She told me the few details she knew. I immediately emailed Blake in Australia. They also were unaware of the situation.
I know this was a perfect situation to cling to hope. But this was different. I knew she was going to die. I remember sitting in bed and just knowing. I wasn't being negative or hysterical. I knew that was God's will. I remember sobbing and saying "Ok. Father, if this is your will, then take her. But please please bring us through it." I wish I could say that the next couple of days were filled with His peace. It wasn't exactly like that. Calls to and from Mexico. Emails to and from Australia. It was a confusing and desperate attempt to get information to the right places. Bless my mom's heart-she tried to get me out of the house. She told me to pray. She said not to drown in possibilities. But I knew. I felt God holding my hand in a black time in my life.
Mr. Bryson got the soonest flight to Mexico. It wasn't soon enough. I woke up one morning, January 3rd, to a text message from my friend Carina. Her mom had been in touch with the hospital in Mexico. Lili had passed that morning. Her body could not handle the infection. Just like that. An early thirties beauty- gone. A 3 year old son without a mother. I went into the kitchen to tell my mom. I just said "Lili" and cried. The pain of finality hit hard. The days run together after that. I remember crying on the phone to a friend who called to offer some encouragement. I got out of bed and showered, trying to wash off the pain. I barely got dressed before I collapsed in the floor sobbing and gagging. My parents rushed in the bathroom. I remember my dad picking me up. I don't remember anything after that. I was at the end of myself. My very existence was battling an assassin. The following days were agonizing- my own pain, knowing Blake and his family were hurting but not being able to get to them.
Blake called on their way back to NC. He wanted me to get all of Lili's things out of the house. Me? I did not want to do it, but at the same time I could not stand the thought of someone else going through her things. Helped by Mom and a friend, we packed away her things. We laughed at Lili's collections of one shirt style in many different colors. Giggled at the shoes I know she never wore. Finishing up for the night, I found her Bible on a shelf. Inscribed on the front was her name and her life verse- Jer. 29:11- which also happened to be my life verse. I didn't know we shared that. I opened the front cover. There was a single sheet a white paper. Hand-written in Spanish. I began to translate aloud, "My name is Lili Diaz Bryson or Lili Bryson in the US. I was saved at 6 years of age in Iglesia Bautista Buena Vista..." Her testimony tucked away in her Bible. A beautiful treasure, scribed for my finding. I felt God right there. He said "I'm right here. It's ok." I don't know why I opened her Bible, but I'm glad I did. I have a copy of it. I plan to keep it forever. It's a piece of her heart. It is a priceless treasure to me.
Finally, they came home. The people my heart had so longed for- but now in their presence I had nothing to say. I didn't know what to do. Blake and I hugged. Without words, i felt our hearts press together, beating with a similar pain. I began trying to find my place in this now all male family. It was not the same anymore. I tried to help them as best I could. I did laundry. I sorted mail, separating things addressed to Lili. But I felt like dying when Christian cried and prayed for mommy to wake up. Innocent heart. I would pick him up from school sometimes. I remember walking with him through a grocery store. I don't remember the surrounding conversation, but heaven came up. He said "Ms. Mamel, that's where my mommy is now." I responded with a smiling "That's right baby. She is." but my heart was anything but smiling. I would practice Spanish with him while taking him home. I knew Lili would be upset if he lost her language. Little by little I heard God saying "I've got him. It's ok."
In the midst of all this, I had to return to the second half on my senior year of high school. I would often show up crying, and if I was composed at the beginning of the day, I would eventually lose myself to tears. I remember one day leaning into my open locker crying. My good friend, Josh Firkins, came by and just put his hand on my shoulder. I don't remember what he said, but I felt his love and again heard God say "Still here. Hold on." Later a friend, Jake Justice, told me "I'm sorry I didn't say anything at school. I don't know what to do when I see someone I love hurt so much." That was God saying "I see you. I know it hurts."
One day during Spanish I left class and went to the restroom. I fell in the floor and cried. One of my sweet professors, Mrs. Baer, came in and sat with me and prayed. "I'm holding you up."
I remember distinctly, throughout all this, continually seeing the image of a partially filled tapestry. Right now sweeps of color were being added. They were deep and dark strokes of color that I can't describe. Reds. Blues. Blacks. Purples. Nothing I know of captures what I saw. I don't remember a hand or a paintbrush. Just strokes of the darkest, most intense colors I have ever seen. As every stroke went on the tapestry, my heart broke, I cried. The colors made me gasp. My mind and body tensed. There was something awful and awesome about it all. "I'm writing your love story." I know it's going to be beautiful.
I just finished reading a book about a little girl, Savannah Duke. I know the girl as an acquaintance because I attend her parents' Sunday school class during the school semesters. Savannah has a very special story. While in utero, doctors found through an ultrasound that she only had one leg. As you can imagine, this was horrifying news to her parents who had fought many awful battles trying to get pregnant. I can't tell the story like her mother, Wendy, does, but I want to reflect on the love story God has written thus far.
During an amniocentesis, Savannah's fetal hand reached up and grabbed the shaft of the needle. God speaks His awesome power through an unborn child on a tv screen.
Upon Savannah's birth, doctors discover a tumor is the cause of her underdeveloped limb. After a hopeful period, doctors determine the tumor is malignant. A baby with cancer- before she was even born. Following chapters detail heartbreaking disappointments, torturous hospital visits, and a mom who is losing the battle. Several times she speaks of collapsing into her husband's arms and weeping. She talks about him giving injections to their daughter when she couldn't. Her husband prayed when she was curled up so tightly in her defense that she did not know how to trust this God that she had proclaimed for years. God speaks His sensitive strength through a heartbroken husband.
Crushing blow after crushing blow, the year and a half after Savannah's birth contained a few glimmers of hope that were quickly followed by seemingly endless tragedies. Mom is fiercely protective of her angel. Mom is dying inside. God sends people- lots of people. Organizations and individuals hold fundraisers that bring at least $30,000 (if i kept count correctly) to the Dukes' doorsteps. Three months of a calendar is filled with people scheduled to provide their meals. A fellow mom of a young cancer patient takes from her own fund to give to Wendy. People who don't even know this family sacrifice more than money to help a little girl. God sings His beautiful lullaby over a drowning family through people unaware of their own impact.
I cry with every episode of Wendy's desperation. "Where is God?" she cries to her husband is a moment filled with darkness. She is struck in the face with her own inability to save her precious offspring. A horrific reality I can't imagine. Even when she stubbornly blocks Him out, she says, He was still following her waiting for her to turn to Him. I wish I could put into words what this picture does to my heart. I have faced horrible events. I have clung to Him for life even when I didn't want to live anymore. I have never faced losing a child, but I feel my heart ring with the genuine pain and desperation in her written word. There are dark, dark moments when only God is there. Wendy surrendered her will in a hospital, after walking out on a doctor's report I believe. She fell on her knees. She wept. She gave up. She stopped trying. She let go. She had pulled away from Jesus trying to deal with her pain. He was right there, she knew. She says she high-fived Him in the good times and doubted Him in the bad. But not anymore. She trusted Him. She said "You can have it all, but I need you to help me." God speaks His pursuit through a suffering,stubborn mom.
He loves us. so much. It's overwhelming. It the worst circumstances imaginable, He is there. At the climax of pain, He is beside us asking us to trust Him. I have been wanting to experience more of His love. I feel like dirt saying "God, could you show me your love?" Ironic, since i was made from dirt. I would think this. Then, i would think "Look at the cross, you idiot. What more of a love display do you want?". Apathy is a disgusting thing. I hate it. It's like accidentally walking through a spider web. You didn't see it coming. Then all of a sudden "Ah! Ew! Get off!". You pick at it and vigorously wipe your arms, but you can still feel it there. You can't do anything to get rid of it completely. I have been asking to be consumed by His love. " I know that you love me more than anyone ever could, but I want to know it more." Hence the name of this blog- "Jesus, I want to rest in your romance." My closest moments with God have been the ones where I was in the most pain or in the most different situation. Please don't misunderstand- I seek God in good times too. There is just something awesome about a moment when you have nothing but God. When everything else is removed..
These thoughts take me back to Lili. Lili Bryson. She was the step-mother of my boyfriend at the time. She was beautiful. She was God's love. She was joy. She was kindness. She spoke truth to me when I was clouded by darkness. She was a light in my life. We were very close, and I cherish every memory I have with her. She had a son, named Christian, who is very near to my heart. I babysat Christian a lot. Some of my funniest memories with Lili are late nights when she would return from a business dinner with Mr. Bryson and all "those snobby people." We would laugh at how uncomfortable she was and how she would rather be anywhere else. I loved Lili very much. She was always light.
December of 2007, my family was at the Brysons' house. Their family was going to visit Mr. Bryson's parents in SC. Then Mr. Bryson, his dad, and Blake (bf at the time) were going to spend the holidays in Australia. Lili and Christian would spend Christmas with Lili's parents in Mexico. I remember the day very clearly. I sat in the floor with Blake and Christian looking at a gingerbread house they made before we all said goodbye. When we were getting ready to leave, I had a very urgent feeling come over me. I remember feeling almost worried about something. I felt very emotional very quickly-something was wrong. Nevertheless, I tried to ignore it and not be ruled by emotions. I hugged Lili, for an extra long time for some reason, and told her I loved her. I said "I'll miss you." We all said our goodbyes. I got in the car, choked up for some invisible reason. That would be the last time I saw Lili.
Lili had planned to have some medical procedures in Mexico. Few knew about the plans. Medical care is indeed better here, but that's her home, so she felt more comfortable there. Lili got an infection from the procedure. All this being around New Years, I was at a retreat with a friend's church, unaware of the circumstances. When i got home, my friend Katelyn called me and said "Hey, I was wondering if you had any more news on Lili? I can't get much info." Of course, I had no idea what she was talking about. She told me the few details she knew. I immediately emailed Blake in Australia. They also were unaware of the situation.
I know this was a perfect situation to cling to hope. But this was different. I knew she was going to die. I remember sitting in bed and just knowing. I wasn't being negative or hysterical. I knew that was God's will. I remember sobbing and saying "Ok. Father, if this is your will, then take her. But please please bring us through it." I wish I could say that the next couple of days were filled with His peace. It wasn't exactly like that. Calls to and from Mexico. Emails to and from Australia. It was a confusing and desperate attempt to get information to the right places. Bless my mom's heart-she tried to get me out of the house. She told me to pray. She said not to drown in possibilities. But I knew. I felt God holding my hand in a black time in my life.
Mr. Bryson got the soonest flight to Mexico. It wasn't soon enough. I woke up one morning, January 3rd, to a text message from my friend Carina. Her mom had been in touch with the hospital in Mexico. Lili had passed that morning. Her body could not handle the infection. Just like that. An early thirties beauty- gone. A 3 year old son without a mother. I went into the kitchen to tell my mom. I just said "Lili" and cried. The pain of finality hit hard. The days run together after that. I remember crying on the phone to a friend who called to offer some encouragement. I got out of bed and showered, trying to wash off the pain. I barely got dressed before I collapsed in the floor sobbing and gagging. My parents rushed in the bathroom. I remember my dad picking me up. I don't remember anything after that. I was at the end of myself. My very existence was battling an assassin. The following days were agonizing- my own pain, knowing Blake and his family were hurting but not being able to get to them.
Blake called on their way back to NC. He wanted me to get all of Lili's things out of the house. Me? I did not want to do it, but at the same time I could not stand the thought of someone else going through her things. Helped by Mom and a friend, we packed away her things. We laughed at Lili's collections of one shirt style in many different colors. Giggled at the shoes I know she never wore. Finishing up for the night, I found her Bible on a shelf. Inscribed on the front was her name and her life verse- Jer. 29:11- which also happened to be my life verse. I didn't know we shared that. I opened the front cover. There was a single sheet a white paper. Hand-written in Spanish. I began to translate aloud, "My name is Lili Diaz Bryson or Lili Bryson in the US. I was saved at 6 years of age in Iglesia Bautista Buena Vista..." Her testimony tucked away in her Bible. A beautiful treasure, scribed for my finding. I felt God right there. He said "I'm right here. It's ok." I don't know why I opened her Bible, but I'm glad I did. I have a copy of it. I plan to keep it forever. It's a piece of her heart. It is a priceless treasure to me.
Finally, they came home. The people my heart had so longed for- but now in their presence I had nothing to say. I didn't know what to do. Blake and I hugged. Without words, i felt our hearts press together, beating with a similar pain. I began trying to find my place in this now all male family. It was not the same anymore. I tried to help them as best I could. I did laundry. I sorted mail, separating things addressed to Lili. But I felt like dying when Christian cried and prayed for mommy to wake up. Innocent heart. I would pick him up from school sometimes. I remember walking with him through a grocery store. I don't remember the surrounding conversation, but heaven came up. He said "Ms. Mamel, that's where my mommy is now." I responded with a smiling "That's right baby. She is." but my heart was anything but smiling. I would practice Spanish with him while taking him home. I knew Lili would be upset if he lost her language. Little by little I heard God saying "I've got him. It's ok."
In the midst of all this, I had to return to the second half on my senior year of high school. I would often show up crying, and if I was composed at the beginning of the day, I would eventually lose myself to tears. I remember one day leaning into my open locker crying. My good friend, Josh Firkins, came by and just put his hand on my shoulder. I don't remember what he said, but I felt his love and again heard God say "Still here. Hold on." Later a friend, Jake Justice, told me "I'm sorry I didn't say anything at school. I don't know what to do when I see someone I love hurt so much." That was God saying "I see you. I know it hurts."
One day during Spanish I left class and went to the restroom. I fell in the floor and cried. One of my sweet professors, Mrs. Baer, came in and sat with me and prayed. "I'm holding you up."
I remember distinctly, throughout all this, continually seeing the image of a partially filled tapestry. Right now sweeps of color were being added. They were deep and dark strokes of color that I can't describe. Reds. Blues. Blacks. Purples. Nothing I know of captures what I saw. I don't remember a hand or a paintbrush. Just strokes of the darkest, most intense colors I have ever seen. As every stroke went on the tapestry, my heart broke, I cried. The colors made me gasp. My mind and body tensed. There was something awful and awesome about it all. "I'm writing your love story." I know it's going to be beautiful.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Monsters and Heroes
Eph. 2:2-3
"... The prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience- among whom we all once lived..."
Satan once had power over me. He had access to me. I was loyal to him in my ignorance. Deception. Hate. Murder. Blood-thirsty monster. He hates me. He kissed me as he led me to death. He was leading me to eternal fire. I can imagine his song- so enticing but something wrong about it. A beautiful creature stroking my hand with promises. How deceived I was.
Christ, with piercing light, revealed that darkness. I said "I believe You are God." You bathed me in blood so holy that evil claws released their grip. You resurrected me to truth. You held me closely as I cried in shame. You sang to me songs of a forever love. You are perfect. You satisfy. Your promises never fail. You rescued me from darkness. I forgot where I came from. The memory chills me. Thank you, my Savior. My Hero.
"... The prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience- among whom we all once lived..."
Satan once had power over me. He had access to me. I was loyal to him in my ignorance. Deception. Hate. Murder. Blood-thirsty monster. He hates me. He kissed me as he led me to death. He was leading me to eternal fire. I can imagine his song- so enticing but something wrong about it. A beautiful creature stroking my hand with promises. How deceived I was.
Christ, with piercing light, revealed that darkness. I said "I believe You are God." You bathed me in blood so holy that evil claws released their grip. You resurrected me to truth. You held me closely as I cried in shame. You sang to me songs of a forever love. You are perfect. You satisfy. Your promises never fail. You rescued me from darkness. I forgot where I came from. The memory chills me. Thank you, my Savior. My Hero.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Bing
I love looking at the daily photos on the Bing homepage. Today's photo is of the Ngorongoro Conservation Area in Tanzania. It's breathtaking. An African elephant walks through brush while a backdrop of towering, slender trees frame a smooth, flowing mountain range. Extravagant words could stretch endlessly trying to capture its beauty and never succeed.Yesterday's photo was a night shot of the Brooklyn Bridge in NYC. Sparkling lights and resilient architecture stretch over the placid river. The distant skyline glows in the background.
I flip between the two photos, entirely different settings. There is just no comparison. Tanzania puts NYC to shame. God's creation is incredible. Sure, mankind has engineered some pretty amazing things, but these structures are nothing next to the majesty that God spoke into existence. "Let there be dry land." His beauty and love are so evident in the wonderfully diverse earth He created.
I have traveled to some mesmerizin
g places. God's raw creation always leaves me speechless. I remember flying over Greenland. The people next to me on the plane probably thought I was an overgrown 6 year old. My heart (and body) were jumping in excitement at my Father's handiwork. Turquoise, like paint, spilled against jagged, ice-topped mountains. The sheer color of the water made my heart squeal.Also flying over the Swiss Alps, I remember being terrified by its majesty. Cruel, jagged ice claws scraped through the clouds. It was a beautiful and humbling sight. Our God will not be mocked. He is holy and wonderful. Yet we can know Him. He transcends my logic.
I remember watching the sunset on Grand Cayman. A pink and orange sun turning the blue, glass water to purple. I remember praying- "I'm the one in your image? You died to save me? Creation screams your glory, but we are the crown of Creation? I don't understand it. Father, You are beautiful. You leave me speechless."
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Rewind
I used to think I had something to say. I used to think I had a message. Not in pride, but in passion my heart overflowed to "paper". My mind could go forever into words and wonder about the beauty of God, the endless complexities in my mind.
Now? Now I feel contained, maybe constrained. I feel as though I have nothing to say. My answers are directly to the point and nothing else. I blame this change on life. Heart break helped me build a massive fortress. There are walls around me I can't even navigate myself. Daydreaming and emotions made me vulnerable so I turned them off. College life as a biology major consumes my time and energy. I am blessed to study God's creation, but in the midst of studying I have learned to observe and report. Constant academic demands leave me unaware of how much time has passed since I just sat and experienced Him. My daily quiet times with Him are my only source of true life, but to keep it in my prayer journal... seems unfair.
God created me with passions that should lead me to my ministry. I don't know what my passions are. This sort of thing used to be a passion, but I may have lost it. This is my attempt to rekindle a passion, to experience that passion that He blessed me with, and to reflect on life. Reflection is an under-appreciated treasure. I want to find it again.
Now? Now I feel contained, maybe constrained. I feel as though I have nothing to say. My answers are directly to the point and nothing else. I blame this change on life. Heart break helped me build a massive fortress. There are walls around me I can't even navigate myself. Daydreaming and emotions made me vulnerable so I turned them off. College life as a biology major consumes my time and energy. I am blessed to study God's creation, but in the midst of studying I have learned to observe and report. Constant academic demands leave me unaware of how much time has passed since I just sat and experienced Him. My daily quiet times with Him are my only source of true life, but to keep it in my prayer journal... seems unfair.
God created me with passions that should lead me to my ministry. I don't know what my passions are. This sort of thing used to be a passion, but I may have lost it. This is my attempt to rekindle a passion, to experience that passion that He blessed me with, and to reflect on life. Reflection is an under-appreciated treasure. I want to find it again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)