Growing up, I was a walking magnet for accidents. I grew up the third born child (first daughter) out of four children. My brothers & I all being a year a part, Sarah staggered behind as the family surprise four years later, leaving me with two boys to play with in the early years- & those poor, unfortunate boys. You think it would be the other way around, me being scarred by two old brothers who would chase me & bully me. But their attempting to hurt me wasn't necessary. I practically walked into their fists for them.
Like the time I walked into the bat as my brother pulled back for the swing, me simply taking a stroll behind the boys' game of baseball.
Or the time I stumbled into my brother swinging around with ruler in hand, another battle scar for the collection.
Or at the church men's softball game, when we decided to have a childish game of our own, as I turned my head when someone decided to finally throw the ball in the girls direction.
I could go into so much greater detail. From the view of the baseball field to the time of day to the smell in the air- I can tell you every piece under the sun, except one (rather big) part- what the damage looked like. Watching my dad's white hot-rod tee shirt soak gradually, turning ugly red was enough to satisfy the need to dig for more. All I knew was it didn't feel like a good situation & the doctors didn't seem to approve of sticking with a band aid. So I was scared to look, avoiding every chance at seeing my own reflection, afraid to see the black thread that was made for things like pants mutate my forehead into Frankenstein. I knew what hurt felt like enough to not want to see the pain of it.
Because ignorance is bliss.
We hate to see the hurting. So we don't. We walk past the beggars on the sidewalks, looking at them but not seeing them, callousing our hearts so we don't have to feel what they're feeling. Our friend's are going through break-ups, divorces, deaths, & illnesses, & we don't want our lack of time to be taken up by their aches. We don't want the inconvenience of being strong for someone, or bending down with them to look into their pain & experience the hurt with them. If we don't make eye contact, we're good to pass by. If we avoid texting them or running into them where they're always spending time, we don't have to face it. Stooping down means we have to stop walking in the direction we're going & that means our plans will take longer. We have busy schedules.
& We do.
It's no exaggeration- trust me. I get that. So maybe we got off on the wrong foot with this a little. Let's start afresh. Clear your heart for a second & give me a blank canvas. Here's the idea: truth is, we genuinely cannot do everything in one day that we want to do & that God calls us to do. There isn't enough time in a day. But we can be diligent with our time, recognizing the important things to Christ & prioritizing to live off His will. Is God expecting you to go do volunteer work & show up late for your job? No. Our God isn't seeking to be a controlling parent. He tells us in His word to do everything as if we were working for GOD himself, doing our best always. The key is to make sure your life everywhere, whether serving at church or working your night shift, is thriving off the Christ inside of you. You don't lack anything you need to be His child to the world- you need patience because the customers not understanding & voices are beginning to raise? Ask. It is yours. We're not expected to be able to do it on our own, we're not the supernatural ones. He is.
There are hurting people everywhere, yes. & just like the good Samaritan we are called to not just look but to see them, making their business our own. (Luke 10:33-35)
Therefore, you do not lack any spiritual gift as you eagerly wait for our Lord Jesus Christ to be revealed.
(1 Corinthians 1:7)
The light's are always red.
In a world that runs on Dunkin, Starbucks, & Caribou, we replace stopping to breathe with hitting up the drive-thru in between to grab some energy to go. Stopping to rest isn't necessary; the Sabbath was prior to the coffee bean & 5 hour energy. We fly through life so fast until we hit a brick wall called heartache. Something happens & we are down for the count. That guy you slept with for seven months straight, who suddenly broke off all contact with you? You found him. Or should you say, your old friend who posted the picture with him found him? Your dad who you haven't seen in years just showed up on your doorstep, along with his colon cancer. With high hopes of being a professional basketball player within the next few years, your coach isn't thinking the dream has potential. You've been cut.
& it hurts. Oh so badly. Life isn't flashing by in clips anymore, its been jerked to a halt. Paralyzed, it's all we can do to be still. & we are tricked in a world where Satan hit the fast forward button, that being still is wrong. But like everything the devil says, his words are nothing more than a fictitious game out to distract us from intimacy with God. Don't believe it.
In Psalm 46, David talks about the brick walls, & God's position through it all.
I had a dream.
I was dying of an illness, & I was simply a walking pair of ribs. No meat to my body, my bones protruded so far I was uncomfortable. I was walking around, surrounded by friends & family, & everybody saw me. I could see the alarm in their eyes, the discomfort. I waited for someone to say something to me of it- anything at all. But their words remained repressed, everyone clearly seeing but not acknowledging it. As if the illness that was slowly walking me to the grave would disappear by not speaking of it, nobody would confront my pain. The hush hurt, my physical self smiling, & clinging to my loved ones; my internal self, screaming out for someone to say something.
I wanted someone to love me by seeing me.
My name means listener.
I wonder how many people I've looked at my entire life & never seen.
(John Steinbeck)
Or so one of the many name cards told me. I'm not sure whether or not 'Samantha' literally translates as that, but I'll keep it. In a running world, we're called to stop, & be still before the Lord. To focus on him in our troubles, & absorb the love he lavishes on us to extend to others in need.
In Swaziland, the greeting they share amongst each other is sawubona, which translates as "I see you". What a powerful statement! To look into someones eyes & say 'I see you', acknowledging not just the space they take up, but their hurts, joys, & hopes. That's God to a world where struggles mean your emotionally unstable or weak. We are called to not just look at people, but to see them.
So this is my letter to you, dear one- my hopes for you. I dare you to see with the unveiled eyes God has given you, to rest in the peace of his presence, & to live in his abounding promises. Lastly, to not break the chain- to share that love you've found with the world, with ears that hear & eyes that see.
& We do.
It's no exaggeration- trust me. I get that. So maybe we got off on the wrong foot with this a little. Let's start afresh. Clear your heart for a second & give me a blank canvas. Here's the idea: truth is, we genuinely cannot do everything in one day that we want to do & that God calls us to do. There isn't enough time in a day. But we can be diligent with our time, recognizing the important things to Christ & prioritizing to live off His will. Is God expecting you to go do volunteer work & show up late for your job? No. Our God isn't seeking to be a controlling parent. He tells us in His word to do everything as if we were working for GOD himself, doing our best always. The key is to make sure your life everywhere, whether serving at church or working your night shift, is thriving off the Christ inside of you. You don't lack anything you need to be His child to the world- you need patience because the customers not understanding & voices are beginning to raise? Ask. It is yours. We're not expected to be able to do it on our own, we're not the supernatural ones. He is.
There are hurting people everywhere, yes. & just like the good Samaritan we are called to not just look but to see them, making their business our own. (Luke 10:33-35)
(1 Corinthians 1:7)
The light's are always red.
In a world that runs on Dunkin, Starbucks, & Caribou, we replace stopping to breathe with hitting up the drive-thru in between to grab some energy to go. Stopping to rest isn't necessary; the Sabbath was prior to the coffee bean & 5 hour energy. We fly through life so fast until we hit a brick wall called heartache. Something happens & we are down for the count. That guy you slept with for seven months straight, who suddenly broke off all contact with you? You found him. Or should you say, your old friend who posted the picture with him found him? Your dad who you haven't seen in years just showed up on your doorstep, along with his colon cancer. With high hopes of being a professional basketball player within the next few years, your coach isn't thinking the dream has potential. You've been cut.
& it hurts. Oh so badly. Life isn't flashing by in clips anymore, its been jerked to a halt. Paralyzed, it's all we can do to be still. & we are tricked in a world where Satan hit the fast forward button, that being still is wrong. But like everything the devil says, his words are nothing more than a fictitious game out to distract us from intimacy with God. Don't believe it.
In Psalm 46, David talks about the brick walls, & God's position through it all.
God is our refuge & strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the
earth give way
& the mountains fall into the heart
of the sea,
though its waters roar & foam
& the mountains quake with their surging.
(v.1-3)
God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
(v.5-7)
Be still, & know that I am God.
(v.10)
He is my safe house, my protector & strength. When I feel like I can't pull my head off my pillow in the morning & face the pain of another day, he holds my hand & walks with me. He promises me that even on my worst day, I won't walk alone. He asks me to tell him what I need, & it's mine. He says that he knows the waters will rise, that people will always say nasty things that hurt me, that I will face moments in my life where I feel like the winds been knocked out of me. But I can take his heart that he's placed inside of me, because he's already overcome my biggest fears. When the flooding reaches my neck, he'll pick me up. When I've been crushed by the world, he'll crush the world. When someone silences my voice, he'll lift his. He is with me always. To the end of the age. To the moon & back. So we can rest in the stillness of his presence.
Let's flip that coin.
So we're talking about recognizing others pain, & acknowledging it. So why did I talk about my own heartaches? Because there's two sides to the coin. We comfort through the comfort that we ourselves have received.
Praise be to the God & Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the Father of compassion & the God of comfort,
who comforts us in all our troubles,
so that we can comfort those in any trouble with
the comfort we ourselves have received from God.
(1 Corinthians 1:3-7)
I know when I'm hurting how great it feels when someone sees the hurt in me & cares enough to stoop down, peering into my wounds. Think about the hardest thing you've ever had to share with someone, the heaviness that consumed your heart. After we share, our hearts are lightened, & we are refreshed. There is power in sharing, & power in being there for someone to share. This is taking our faith back to the basics, to our elementary foundations: treat others as you would like to be treated.
So now it's time for last night's mind games.
I was dying of an illness, & I was simply a walking pair of ribs. No meat to my body, my bones protruded so far I was uncomfortable. I was walking around, surrounded by friends & family, & everybody saw me. I could see the alarm in their eyes, the discomfort. I waited for someone to say something to me of it- anything at all. But their words remained repressed, everyone clearly seeing but not acknowledging it. As if the illness that was slowly walking me to the grave would disappear by not speaking of it, nobody would confront my pain. The hush hurt, my physical self smiling, & clinging to my loved ones; my internal self, screaming out for someone to say something.
I wanted someone to love me by seeing me.
(John Steinbeck)
Or so one of the many name cards told me. I'm not sure whether or not 'Samantha' literally translates as that, but I'll keep it. In a running world, we're called to stop, & be still before the Lord. To focus on him in our troubles, & absorb the love he lavishes on us to extend to others in need.
In Swaziland, the greeting they share amongst each other is sawubona, which translates as "I see you". What a powerful statement! To look into someones eyes & say 'I see you', acknowledging not just the space they take up, but their hurts, joys, & hopes. That's God to a world where struggles mean your emotionally unstable or weak. We are called to not just look at people, but to see them.
So this is my letter to you, dear one- my hopes for you. I dare you to see with the unveiled eyes God has given you, to rest in the peace of his presence, & to live in his abounding promises. Lastly, to not break the chain- to share that love you've found with the world, with ears that hear & eyes that see.
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