When Love Shatters

It's a drippy, foggy week before Christmas and I am on a trail run in the woods behind my house (family's house, my second home--or maybe my first). Feet pound rhythmically and the questions fire beside and behind them. And foremost among the questions is one:

Why does love break?

Because I'd said before, I told it to my parents, what I'd been thinking for months now: Everything I touch shatters. The friendships, the love, the relationships, community, everything. Everything breaks, sooner or later, when I've touched it.

Why? All I did was love them. All I did was care. And it shatters. Time and time and time again, it breaks. Is it worth it, to keep loving? Is it right, to keep reaching out, when it will only cause them worse pain later? (And that's not even counting what it does to me.)

So my feet pound the trail and my heart pounds questions. The trail slopes downward and I break to a walk to save my knees. My prayer drifts out, mist into mist. "Why, God?"

And just like that, there's an answer that stops me cold; my feet freeze in the trail and I grab the nearest tree and hang on, like the force of the thought might knock me over if I'm not careful.

Love always shatters. 

Always?

Always, on earth. Because Love will always be colliding with evil. And that causes shattering.

The lyrics of a song drift into my head: "Love's like an ocean..."

Those waves--they roll on and on across the deep, strong but peaceful, gentle--until they reach the shore. That wave breaking, it can break you, it can kill you, it can drive you under, make you feel you're drowning. But it's not the wave that does that. It's the wave breaking. Striking the rock. Clashing with something completely opposite to itself.

Like Love. Like Love always is, always will be, as long as there is evil in the world.

Love's collision will break others, will break itself, will create a million pieces out of things that looked whole. But the only alternative is to abandon Love and choose evil. Because there is no middle ground, no safe walled-in place, not in this case.

And perhaps, as we choose, it's worthy to remember that sometimes, breaking is the only way to healing.

What It Means

"Still Path"

"What does following in God's steps mean to you? And what happens when you do follow in His steps?"

Good questions, dear friend. I've been pondering them all week.

And as I sit here at the near-end of a week of rain, listening to music to fill the silence in my empty house, worn from a week of late nights and early mornings, trying not to think about how I miss my friends, overwhelmed with a hundred responsibilities, it's a little hard to see the light as I usually do. But I can say one thing with confidence.

For me, following God's steps means two words. Or actually, four:

Caring more. For healing.

More than is comfortable. More than is convenient. More than is necessary. More than others have. More than others will, or could, or should.

And yet, just caring isn't enough. You can care, and break. You can care, and wound. Horribly. And then it is better not to care at all.

So true caring must be always focused on healing. And that means receiving everything--every heartthrob, every touch on the shoulder, every smile, every tear, every note on the to-do list, every e-mail, every meeting, everything--from the ultimate Healer. Because as people, we are the Wounded. And without Him, we wound.

But praise God, with Him, we can heal.

What happens when I follow? Loneliness. Exhaustion. Emptiness. Sure. You read my third paragraph. But so much more. So much more. When they don't fill (because they never do), He does. Sunsets and stars. Full moons and foggy mornings. Flowers in the fields. Cool breezes. Storms sweeping down across the lake. Thunder and rain. So much beauty it literally hurts. Richness.

And, ultimately, a dream of the certain Victory to come. That's what it means.

Day Breaks

The sky is pink and orange over the eastern horizon.

I lean against the window seat and watch it. There's a moment of stillness in the hectic pace of life. The color shifts and fades and grows again, almost alive.

A thousand heart-stirrings surge inside. Someday I will have to leave this place. And though I love it here, I hope I leave soon.

Not for another school. Not for a marriage or for another job. Someday soon, I hope to leave because I'm not allowed to be here longer. Because only a short time after that, I'll stand and watch another sun rise. Watch a day break in which I know there'll be no end.

Soon, He will come. And the sunrise won't compare.

Oh, may the Day break soon.

But in the meantime, may it break in my heart every morning, as I watch the sun rise.

Salt and Light

"You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men.

"You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden." (Matt. 5:14-15)

The salt, the light--their essence comes from deep inside. The light is lit by someone else; the salt distilled by another. Only the impurities allowed in, the loss of a wick or of oil, keep them from fulfilling their tasks.

May nothing else slip in to taint my heart; may nothing separate me from the Source of my light!

If Truth Never Triumphed

There's been a shooting today, in the city I've known as home for the past eight years.

"Domestic terrorism"... "ISIS"..."violence"...

These words were never supposed to exist. Period.

We cry, "Why this little city? Why this little town? Why those children? Why these husbands? Those mothers?"

And we cannot know the answer. Because evil has no answer but the selfish core of selfishness. Evil is its own entity. And deep inside, the most hardened of us still know that it is a foreign entity. Evil is not supposed to be. 

This hatred of evil, this hatred of pain, this burning anger at things that are just wrong, this is one of the strongest indicators that we were made for another world.

But here, and now, truth, integrity, love...they battle today. And more often than not, they lose. In little ways, and in big.

Truth forever on the scaffold,
Wrong forever on the throne.

And so I have a question for you today--and a question for me. Why do we choose truth? Why do we choose integrity? Why do we choose love?

Do we choose it because we think life will be better when it triumphs?

What if it never overcame? (not, that is, that we could ever see...)

What if it never won? (not that our children, or great-great-great grandchildren, could ever enjoy...)

Would we still choose it now?

Oh, How He Loves

We meet "virtually" at the end of a long week--she walking along a creek in the rain, I sitting atop a warm rock in the sun (by another little creek). Almost 200 miles apart, but still beside each other in heart. Sisterhood is like that.

It's been a week full of joy and full of sorrow, for both of us. Full of the joy of serving, of giving unashamedly, of pouring into other lives. Full of sorrow from others' pain, of staggering under the hundred-ton weight of someone else's hurt. Sometimes second-hand sorrow is hardest to bear.

We share (much-abbreviated) prayer requests and though we laugh at each other and with each other, our hearts break for each other and for our friends. People I haven't even met set my heart throbbing, make me close my eyes as if to try to block out the agonizing reality of the darkness that has set itself against them. I ache to wrap my arms around each one, hold them tight, tell them You ARE loved. YOU are loved. HE loves you--and through the darkness, through the pain--He'll never, ever let you go.

And that night as I go home, half-reeling from the overwhelming need to be loved that resounds through the hearts of this broken, pain-throbbing world, I can't help but think, this must be a glimpse into the heart of God.

'Cause if I love these people so much--people I've never or only barely met--how much more must He love each one of them and each one of us--His children--when He knows so deeply and so intimately?

Wow.

"Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God!" (1 Jn. 3:1)

You Matter

Rallied by one young prince's victory, a thousand men of the Israelite nation rush from their hiding places, armed with sticks and shovels, to pursue and to destroy their enemies. Successfully.

Ranks of young men file into ships, to land at Normandy Beach and to scramble and battle their way inland in a desperate struggle to free Europe.

Suicide bombers train for days, weeks--only to destroy themselves in a final explosion for what they believe is the right.

We are obsessed, we humans, with being part of something bigger than ourselves. With fighting for the right. With the ideal of the stalwart hero who battles and struggles and finally, though his death or through his life, wins. We want this. We crave it. It is part of both our deepest fears and our deepest dreams. It constantly drives us upward toward glory, or downward toward greatest loss. 

Because we are. We are part of Something Bigger. We do fight for it. Every day. 

The question is: What? What am I fighting for? Am I the hero fighting to free Europe, to rescue Israel from the Philistines? Or am I the suicide bomber who destroys not only others, but himself, in a blaze of terror?

There are only two sides. The side that destroys, and the Side that renews. The side that wounds, and the Side that heals. And one of the essences of the Gospel is just this:

YOU MATTER.

Your life matters. Your choices matter. YOU matter. More than you can ever dream. Because in every choice, no matter how small, no matter how insignificant, you fight. Because every time you choose the good, evil loses. 

And so in a hundred little choices, in a hundred little prayers, in a hundred little surrenders every day...we fight.

By His grace, choose the good.

"Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, to which you were also called and have confessed the good confession in the presence of many witnesses." (1 Tim. 6:12)

Canaan Bound

Source

It seems all the stories start the same.

"It was just an ordinary day. . ."

Maybe that's because it was. Until. 

Mine was. Or I suppose, I should say, it was an ordinary night. Until...

Wait--the whole story--you haven't heard it. It's a long story, you know. You don't mind? Well, let's begin, then...

Flat roofs are meant for stargazing. I've always been up there nights, as long as I can remember, maybe even more once I had a family. The breeze skips by, touches your face like a lover's hand; the stars twinkle and flash overhead; sometimes the moon burns a hole in the sky. A whisper-smell of jasmine, a far-away owl's hoot. You just can't sleep for long, not in so much beauty.

The moon was full that night, and it threw a halo all around. I've hardly ever seen a moon that bright--seemed you could scarcely see the stars. I'd fixed a bed up top of the roof, threw down a blanket or two at the end of a long day. And I lay there, hands behind my head, staring up at that sky and a thousand questions running in my mind. Don't even remember what they were about, really.

I guess I dozed off despite myself. When I woke the moon was half across the sky. For a moment I wasn't sure what had woken me--but I knew there was something. Then I heard it. Music. But unlike any music I'd ever heard before. It started soft; it took a moment before I could make out... words. And what words...

Get out of your country
From your family
And from your father's house
To a land that I will show you.

If I'd had questions before, they paled in comparison to my questions now. This was unlike anything I'd ever heard before. All I knew was here. All I'd ever known was here. My family, my father's house--it was all I had. My inheritance, my life, my hope for the future. To leave all this--for an unnamed land?

But the music swelled and grew and pulled at me. Somehow I knew it was for me. I remembered how God--the great YAH--had spoken to men in the past. Was this how He spoke? This beautiful but so uncertain way? Would He not be more specific, not give more directions?

I will make you a great nation;
I will bless you
And make your name great;
And you shall be a blessing.
I will bless those who bless you
And I will curse him who curses you;
And in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.*

The music faded. Only the moon remained, and I found myself on my knees, knowing I bowed before the Creator of All. Was it enough--His promise? To leave all I knew, to begin in a new and hostile place, knowing no one, with no family, no inheritance, no life?

"I will go," I whispered, though deep within a part of me recoiled from such a life-altering decision. "Tomorrow I shall tell them. We shall go."

* Genesis 12:1-3

Somewhere Between

Source

It's a strange feeling being between two worlds.

That's where most of us grads (or soon-to-be-grads) are right now. Two worlds. One world is the one we've been in for at least four, sometimes five or more, years--college. To expand it even further, school in general. We've been students for at least sixteen years, most of us.

The next world varies a lot from person to person, but it has one thing in common--the unknown. Unknown grad school, unknown new jobs, unknown mission service. Unknown.

And for the moment, standing between last finals and an anticipated-but-unknown future, we look at the world and wonder one thing: Where am I today--really?

Because I don't belong here any more, but I still am here.

Because I will belong there someday, but I'm not there yet.

And so we stand somewhere between, in a strangely surrealistic "wood between the worlds," happy but unsure, relieved but just a little apprehensive, not knowing.

The parallels are intriguing.

"These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland." (Heb. 11:13-14)

Broken Healer

"The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon Me,
Because the LORD has anointed Me
To preach good tidings to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives,
And the opening of the prison to those who are bound" (Is. 61:1)

What makes God such an incredible Healer? Besides, of course, that He is God, and can do whatever He wants. . .

When we are hurting, we want someone who has been there before us. Somehow, knowing that someone has walked this trail before--it smooths the thorns. It gives us hope. And somehow, that hope is really what most of us are looking for.

So He was broken--He was crushed--so that we might be healed. And so that we might recognize that healing, see it in hands and feet and heart, in flesh and bone.

And perhaps, just perhaps, He sometimes asks us to share in that brokenness--so that we might be able to offer healing and hope to another.

His Lamps

I don't remember if I've shared this before, but just in case I haven't...this is a great little poem I have posted on my wall to remember.

We are His lamps, to shine where He shall say;
And lamps are not for sunny rooms,
Or for the light of day,
But for dark places of the earth,
Where shame and wrong and crime have birth;
Or for the murky twilight gray,
Where wandering sheep have gone astray;
Or where the lamp of faith grows dim,
And souls are groping after Him.
And so sometimes we find a flame,
Clear shining through the night--
So dark we cannot see the lamp, 
   but only see the light.
May we so shine--His love the flame--
That men may glorify His name.

~ R.J. Flint

Waiting: Part 2: What's It?

Or, some stories for you. :)

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. And this little girl loved horses. (Don't most?) The fabled "horse bug" bit her when she was around seven years old, and it just never really quit.

Of course she asked for a horse, she wanted a horse--but her parents couldn't afford a horse, and that was that. So she wore the covers off her book on how to take care of horses, reading it and re-reading it. And always she hoped for a horse. She befriended horses that showed up in the cow barn (unfortunately they stayed only a few days) and then she made friends who had horses, and she got to ride one at long last. But only once or twice before her family moved. She still hoped for her own.

Eventually, three years after the initial bug bit, her grandpa offered to fund riding lessons every other week. She learned to walk and trot and eventually to canter. And still she hoped for her own horse. There were bad instructors and good ones, lost confidence and regained confidence, and as she got older the horses got younger and a bit wilder sometimes. There were more falls, more bumps and bruises, broken bones, drives home in tears because things didn't work out. And still she hoped for her own.

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a little boy. And this little boy decided he wanted to work with physically hurting people, to reach their spiritual hurts too. So when he grew up he went to college to study. 

But when he got to college some huge issues came up. Issues so big that it seemed there was no way through. No way around. No way over. He tried every angle. He analyzed every opportunity. But things just didn't seem to be looking up. So he asked, and he shared:

"What keeps you going?" 

The answer? Hope. Hope to make a difference. Hope to change someone's life. Hope to shine a light. 

So he kept getting up every day, and he kept going to class, and he kept hoping for that difference. There were no answers, and there were no guarantees, and the dream was held off (it seemed) maybe forever. He waited on the answers, and he waited on the outcome, and there wasn't much promise of a good turnaround and a happy ending. Still he hoped to be that difference. 

* * *

Two stories, two very different people, two very different situations. Or maybe, at the core, not so different after all.

What is "waiting"?

Reflections

Image from Wikimedia Commons

I've grown a lot this semester. In a lot of ways.

I continue to ask God for His heart for others, and He is opening my eyes. Just as much as I can stand it--which isn't very much.

Guys, this world is a dark, dark place. Dark and empty and cold. Dark enough to suck the air from your lungs. Empty enough to leave you beaten and helpless. Cold enough to freeze your heart.

If you'll let it.

Don't.

Because it's also full of light. Because HE is full of light. And He is here. And He is in us, for us, with us. He is light, He is healing, He is joy, He is warmth and life and love. And if you'll let Him, He will set your heart ablaze.

For so much darkness, so much more light. Lord, make me a lamp.

"Where sin abounded, grace abounded much more, so that as sin reigned in death, even so grace might reign through righteousness to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." (Rom. 5:20-21)

Waiting: Part 1: A Question

Long conversation with a friend and "little sister" last night brought up a topic that I think isn't talked about nearly enough.

That being WAITING.

That is, waiting in a spiritual and emotional sense. I think we talk about physically waiting for things quite enough. :)

But we wait for a lot of other things too...

• "Mr./Ms. Right"
• God acting in a specific way
• Friends changing (for the better, we hope)
• Family changing
• New friends

I could go on and I'm sure you have your own list. The above is just some of what we talked about last night. ;) 

My question to you is this: Can waiting distract us from the bigger issues of life? If so, how do we keep it "in check," so to speak? 

One Step

From a day that, believe it or not, was warmer than today! 

"Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." (Matt. 6:34)

Good morning, Thursday!

The air crackles in my nose--I can feel my breath freezing. In and out, in and out--frosty in, warmer out. I hold gloved hands to my nose, try to trap the warmer air around my face, focus on my steps, on the swing of my legs forward and back. The little rock fountain's frozen over--icicles draping over the moss, fish swimming under a glassy sheet. It begs a picture, even though my camera phone's notoriously bad at such things.

Another three stairs, behind the religion building, up the final long set of stairs to work. I take them one-and-two at a time--not brave enough to run, not warm enough to walk! Eyes laser-focus on the door; I swing it open, step inside the warmth, and gasp a still-shivery sigh of relief. I'm here. At last.

There's a trick to walking to work on cold mornings. At least, there is if you don't like the cold but you don't want to feel like a grumpy turtle when you do get to work. For me, that trick involves a double focus: #1, of course, is the warm work building. But just focusing on getting from A to B (in the cold) can create a distinct "grumpy turtle" attitude. Okay, it does create said attitude, at least for me!

#2 focus is every step. And the second focus is just as important (maybe because I forget it so easily!). Because though I may focus on the future, I live in each step.

And it's my choice how to live each of those steps. Will I live each step, or will I live each step? Will I live in frustration or in gratitude? In anxiety, or in trust? As a beggar, or as a child of the King?

It's hard (for some of us anyways) to understand living an entire life trusting God. But when you break it down to steps--to days and to hours and even to minutes--that looks a bit more doable. Not that I will do it all the time or even most of the time!--but it gives me courage to start over. To try again. To live each step in awe of that Future.

Surrender: A Prayer

"Father, I want to know Thee, but my coward heart fears to give up its toys. I cannot part from them without inward bleeding, and I do not try to hide from Thee the terror of the parting. I come trembling, but I do come. Please root from my heart all those things which I have cherished so long and which have become a very part of my living self, so that Thou mayest enter and dwell there without a rival. Then shalt Thou make the place of Thy feet glorious. Then shall my heart have no need of sun to shine in it, for Thyself will be the light of it, and there shall be no night there. In Jesus' Name, Amen." ~ A.W. Tozer 

A friend shared this--I thought it was very powerful. May we be willing to make a total surrender to Him!

Today's Thoughts

From prayer group...

1 Corinthians 13:

"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.

4 Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant 5 or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;6 it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. 7 Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.8 Love never ends. ..."

And 1 John 4:8:

"Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love."

So any time we see the word "love" in 1 Corinthians 13, we could replace it with "God." "God is patient and kind; He does not envy or boast; He is not arrogant or rude. God does not insist on His own way; He is not irritable or resentful; He does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.

"God bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."

All things, for our sakes. That some of us might turn and be with Him forever.

Lord, thank You for Your incredible love. Teach me to love as You do!

Thanksgiving

• For a long technology break...
• Long hikes in the Smokies...
• Snow on the mountains...
• Safe trip home...
• Two weeks left before finals!...
• Music with family...
• A new hobby...
• Warm sun through window...
• Seeing my animals again :) ...
• Wonderful friends...
• Family...

Father, we I thank thee!

Missed

It's dinnertime, and everyone gathers together to eat. Around the old, well-used table they sit, happy to be done with another day, perhaps laughing over an inside family joke, perhaps sighing in relief to be home. Home where each belongs, where each is valued more deeply than anything else. Home--in its truest sense--is one strong word.

Chairs fill as they gather and everyone is here. But...not everyone is here. A chair is empty. Barren. A hole in the circle 'round the table. And the mood saddens a little as each realizes that the circle is incomplete.

The family's incomplete when one is missing. Even if it's just for a day, just for a meal.

But when they're missing for years? For decades? That's years and decades worse.

Could it be--I think it is--that every day there are empty spaces around a big well-used table where we belong? And that every day the rest of the family's mood saddens a little because the circle's incomplete?

"And the Spirit and the bride say 'Come!'...He who testifies to these things says, 'Surely I am coming quickly.'" (Rev. 22:16, 20)

You are missed. I am missed.

Every day we're here, and not there. There, where we belong. There, where everyone was meant to belong.

It's almost time to go home. May we each want to go home, to our real home, forever!

Priorities: Time

Stars sparkle between the clouds that are finally scudding away. Half a moon, slanting toward the west, shines sleepily through the trees. Even the night insects chirp more slowly. The birds doze in their nests. A breeze sweeps slowly across the lake and up the mountainside. Leaves flutter. Far off, an owl cries.

A leaf crunches suddenly, and a single figure slips among the trees. The steps are unhurried, but eager. Part way up the slope, it pauses, and in the shadowy half-moon light turns face toward the sky.

In the still night air the words float, quiet but ringing with unconcealed relief and joy to finally, finally, be here and be able to speak unfettered.

"My Father. . ."

"Now in the morning, having risen a long while before daybreak, He went out and departed to a solitary place; and there He prayed." (Mk. 1:35)

 ---------

How much would I give to speak with God? Do I prioritize my time to make sure I have time to keep that connection alive? I'm afraid not much...