Moments

During one of the darkest periods of my life, I wrestled myself to sleep each night. I tossed and turned to the point of exhaustion, knowing that God’s design for God’s children was not to be paralyzed by guilt, shame, and/or sadness.

In those moments, I often imagined Jesus walking into my bedroom, standing beside my bed with a look of deep love on his face as I struggled with my demons. Many times, I looked at him with tears pouring down my face and said, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

In those moments, Jesus simply stood there. Full of love. Unwavering. Sometimes crying with me. Sometimes pouring compassion over me as I cried. Never judging me. Always letting me know that I wasn’t alone.

In these moments when I’m given the privilege to serve as chaplain, this is the image of who I want to be…this image and the image of Jesus laughing.

In these days of humble honor, I desire to be a chaplain who demonstrates a less-anxious presence. I desire to work with an energy level that feels alive, safe, warm, and welcoming, and I desire not to absorb the stress of the situations in which I find myself but to be fully present in them—feeling the emotions in the room but not getting stuck in them.

Last night, as I stood beside a friend’s daughter at Duke, I wept. The room wept with me. We wept for a body much too young to be shutting down. I wept for her newborn baby also struggling to survive. I wept because of the mysterious virus that is attacking their livers and for the uncertainty that their families and loved ones face. I stood there full of love for this young woman I barely know. Yet I know her mom. My love unwavering. Pouring compassion through my tears. Not judging. Praying for miraculous healing. Praying for Emily’s dreams to be filled with the certainty that she is not alone.

Will you join me in praying for Emily and Aiden—for God to do a supernatural work in their lives? Will you join me in praying for Diana and Oliver—for God to give them peace and strength as they spread their time between daughter and grandson, desperately clinging to life?

Will you imagine your own image of Jesus looking upon you (and others) with love? And will you celebrate these moments that you have been given to do the work God has called you to do?