tenderness

God puts into each of us a capacity to love.Nothing earthshattering there...you may crown me Queen Obvious, if you wish...

But some people shut off that capacity to love and be loved...they turn it off like a faucet. I have family members like that, and alas, I have loved men like that in the past...but nevermore! :)
I've come to the conclusion (again, thus saith the Queen o' Obvious), that it must take an incredible amount of energy to live such an inauthentic (is that a word? for real?) life.

And I don't want it. Thanks, but no thanks. I'm full.

Last night I had the privilege of having some prayer time with a group of close friends, and some whom I've never even met before. People shared joys and concerns, there was laughter, there were tears, and moments where the heartache for each other was so intense that it literally brought us to our knees. Painful? Yes. Worth the pain? Without a doubt.

Like most people, I have had my heart broken more times that I can count, in male-female relationships, family relationships, and in circumstances due to the brokenness of this world. Love comes at a hefty price, in whatever form it takes. For example, I work with severely handicapped children. Over the past few years, three of these little ones have gone home to be with the Lord. Gut-wrenching loss...and that's just how WE, the clinicians felt...how much more must the families have experienced. It's almost beyond my comprehension. Of course they're in a better place...and my heart rejoices to know that. But the pain of loss HURTS, man, and I believe that it's a good practice to acknowledge that fact and deal with it, rather than stuff it and pretend that there is no emotion around it whatsoever. There is a huge danger in compartmentalizing strong emotion...putting it dispassionately into a box, shoving it into the dark recesses of your mental/emotional closet and pretending it doesn't exist, like a red-headed stepchild. It's how depression, addictions, hopelessness are fed. Bring it into the light, where it belongs, and can be healed. Whatever the pain is, acknowledge it, look it squarely in the face, allow the pain to come so you can be ministered to.

Along with love comes vulnerability. Vulnerable to the one(s) you love, who will see you warts and all, vulnerable to the effects of pain, vulnerable to the healing process which can often be, ah, uncomfortable. Again, is it worth it? For sure. In our weakness is His greatest strength...does that ring a bell? :)

So last night, I was overwhelmed with love and tenderness towards the group of people with whom I prayed. We have shared light-hearted, almost comedic times together prior to this...and some more serious moments. But the depth of the communion with each other, and with the Lord last night, was breath-taking. And in spite of the tears, the pain we shouldered for each other--indeed, BECAUSE of that...it was one of the most incredible times I've spent with these people.

I am thankful that God has called us to an abundant life...even when I'm not so thrilled about pain. What I am rediscovering, and it almost feels like discovering this for the first time, is that love, tenderness towards others, is worth all the pain that comes with it.

Imagine how much HE loves us...

Sail

communication in any style

I think about communication a lot. Maybe it's because I work with severely/profoundly disabled children who have little to no verbal expression; maybe it's because I'm intensely verbal, and that's the way God fashioned me...maybe both. Whichever the case may be, communication is often on my mind. Communication with God--oh, it's almost constantly in my consciousness. Whether I am effective in my communication, well, that's another story.

Flash back to about 1988 or 89...I am a brandy-new Christian, straight outta the box. I'm struggling to make it through college, working in a snake pit of a residential facility (andI'm being kind) for severely autistic and other behaviorally disordered children. The child that I worked with most, and had the best relationship with was a beautiful seventeen-year-old boy, with severe prenatal brain damage that had left him profoundly deaf, mildly visually impaired, cerebral palsied, and with a naaaaaaaasty seizure disorder. He also had some severe autistic behaviors, like head-banging and head-butting...yeah, I was on the receiving end many times. :D But he also had a spirit that would not be broken...and an incredible sense of who liked him and who did not--truly a God-given compensation. I believe it's what helped him survive this abyss away from home.

Consider this: this is a child with no words, no hearing, motor and neurological impairments, and a sensory system that was out of synch with his environment much of the time. How else is he going to be heard in a place where there are too few staff, too many children, and too much dysfunction? All too often there was too much bad stuff happpening for him to really get his needs met. I think I'd bang my head, too.

But it was through this incredibly beautiful, incredibly impaired child, that I received my first lesson about what God the Father wants our relationship with Him to be. There was an moment in the morning, when I was getting him showered and shaved, and ready for the day. Always the taskmaster (mistress???), I was having him dress himself as much as he could, rather than saving time and just doing it for him. Of course, with only one fully functional side, he required a certain amount of help. Again, playing the role as bossy overbearing Sailfish (and one great and good friend understands fully what that means!), I would wait, or prompt him to use his sign language to ask me for help. This was not for the purpose of control, or just meanness...my theory was that the more he could do for himself, AND the more he clearly communicated, the less likely it would be for him to be mistreated (at least, that was my prayer for him). Yes, of course I knew what he needed and wanted...but I wanted him to TELL me...to use his words, in whatever form they came in.

So as I stood there one morning waiting for him to tell me what he needed, it struck me that this is what it must be like, on a much deeper level, with God. Without a doubt He knows our deepest needs, hopes, fears . He knows that cry of the heart that can barely be verbalized. But like my little guy here, we need to practice communicating with him. He delights in our daily, hourly, moment-by-moment communication with Him. He wants to hear from us. His shoulders are even big enough to handle our panicked head-butts, even our anger and frustration. He will not be moved. It was a big moment for this baby Christian; in fact, it might have been the moment where some of the untruths I'd learned began to be undone ( a long process that is not finished yet! :D). But it was a start. Could it be that in our spiritual frailties, which were at least as big as my little guy's physical infirmities, we were STILL wanted and sought after by the Father? And...were these wobbling little baby steps towards intimacy with God enough? Were my bumbling prayers acceptable?

What a concept. God used one of his "least ones" to show me, also least, in my own estimation, how much he desired relationship with me...all I had to do was keep the communication going...and learn to love Him with all my soul, heart, and mind.

It's a journey.

sail