Loving The Hell Out Of Them

I have a friend who works with at-risk teenage girls. Last week, one of the girls pushed her and started to run away. Sadly, this isn’t abnormal behavior for girls who haven’t learned how to form healthy boundaries or how properly to communicate thoughts and feelings. The staff members who work with the girls know the risks involved with the work and are trained in proper restraints and mediation techniques. Even so, it’s hard to be pushed and it’s a helpless feeling to watch someone run away—literally. Yet as the organization’s main supervisor likes to say: The staff is loving the hell out of the girls.

The hell.
The loneliness. Worthlessness. Betrayal. Rage.
The fears. Neglect. Abandonment. Doubts.
The abuse. Molestation. Bullying. Deep anger.
The learning difficulties. Helplessness. Aggravation. Anxiety.
The hell.

They are loving the hell out of them.

…

I love you. Take a moment, be still, and thank about that. I am the Creator of the universe, the Ruler of time, the Master of all you see—and I love you. My love is so big that it fills up all of space, time, and eternity. I know that you don’t fully understand the hugeness of my love for you. You see glimpses of it now—as you feel me guiding you, drawing you closer to me, and answering your prayers. But one day you will see me face-to-face. Then you will know exactly how wide and long and high and deep my love for you really is. For now, just know that my love is so huge it cannot be measured. And it goes with you through every moment of every day. (from Jesus Calling for Kids).

And it goes with everyone. Me. You. Our family. Our friends. At-risk teenage girls and elementary school boys. The people who annoy us and bother us the most—whether we know them personally or not.

God loves all of us.
Joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control, and peace
Love all of us.

God is love and loving the hell out of all of us.

…

I think I want to love the hell out of people, too.

Defining Moments: Sense of Knowing

Many of you know that I like to read books with my ears. I finished the first book of The Heroes of Olympus series on my way to Candlestick, and I started the second book yesterday on my way to Boone. I went to see Horn in the West.

On my way back to camp last night, though I truly enjoy listening to books, I decided to listen to music instead. Windows rolled down, heat blasting to balance out the crisp 56 degree temperature, left arm periodically waving in the wind, I drove the curvy mountain roads singing as loudly as I could without damaging my voice.

It was awesome.

As I drove, I found myself flashing back to another night of music listening seventeen years ago. I wasn’t in the mountains. I wasn’t even driving. In fact, I was laying in my little bed in my little room, trying to figure out where God was calling me to serve that next summer.

The previous summer, I had worked at Mundo Vista for the first time. I had had a good summer and made some good friends, and I’d even successfully made it through the summer wearing closed-toes shoes! But camp was comfortable to me. I was good at it—gifted, even. And “Doesn’t God call us to step out of our comfort zones? Doesn’t God call us to take risks so that we will rely fully on him?”

That summer, there was a position open for a person to minister to migrant workers in Eastern NC. Speaking Spanish (which I do not do) was highly recommended but not required, and somehow I had gotten it into my head that this was the job I should attempt—because it was way out of my comfort zone and would mean total reliance on God.

Sometime over Christmas break, as I was discussing summer mission options with my parents and talking through my leap of faith migrant ministry option, my dad told me that he believes that God desires us to minister out of our giftedness—that trusting in God and relying on God doesn’t mean being totally unprepared or fighting an upstream battle. He believed that I was gifted for camp ministry and that I should go back if I had the desire. Yet I was a stubborn college sophomore and couldn’t get past the idea of getting out of my comfort zone, so I didn’t humbly listen to my dad.

As I was lying in bed that night, though, listening to a new group that my friend Allie had introduced to me the summer before, God swooped down and covered my body with a sense of knowing that I had never before experienced. Though I can’t remember the exact song that was playing, I know that it came from one of Caedmon’s Call’s first two albums--My Calm//Your Storm or Just Don’t Want Coffee—and I have a feeling that it was either “There’s A Stirring” or “April Showers.”

Regardless, in that moment, on that night, I knew as clearly as I know my name is Deanna that I’d be going back to camp that next summer. I wish I could describe how I knew, but I can’t. The knowing just settled upon and surrounded me. All of my self-imposed struggles faded. And my desire to return to camp suddenly became right.

And you know what? Even in the middle of my giftedness, I was taken out of my comfort zone that summer and pushed to rely totally on God even though I was surrounded by and able to minister with persons who have become some of my dearest friends. From co-leading worship for the first time to co-leading a cabin full of angel tree campers and learning what it meant to host girls whose lives were very broken, I lived outside my comfort zone…yet I lived out of and within the giftedness that God had given me.

It was a beautiful juxtaposition.

Music is a powerful thing. God has used it to speak to me more times than I can count.
What about you? Do you have a mountain driving experience or a lying in bed moment of clarity that you’d like to share? I’d love to hear. And if you share the song, I’d love to sing along.

David And Goliath Have Spoken

I’m thankful that the words and stories of scripture are alive and active. I’m thankful that they speak to different persons in different times and different places depending on what thoughts, experiences, and emotions the reader is carrying within the context of the reader’s culture. I’m thankful that scripture can serve as testimonial points of reference on our faith journeys. I’m thankful that new points of reference can be placed and that stories that once didn’t resonate with my story do now.

Yesterday. A dear friend’s installation as the first female pastor in a congregation.

This season of life. Searching. Discerning. Learning to live authentically. Trying to honor past experience and unique giftedness instead of trying to act as other people think I should act or do what other people think I should do.

Just prior to this season of life. A three-year focus on issues of human exploitation, one of which was bullying.

In general. Understanding the power of words, especially words of blessing. Believing that each of us has worth and value. Knowing that wearing protective armor can weigh us down. Feeling the sting of not being believed in or given a chance because my ideas and beliefs are different than the norm.

Now insert the story of David and Goliath…

David said to Saul, “Let no one lose heart on account of Goliath; I, your servant, will go and fight him.”

Saul replied, “You are not able to go out against this Philistine and fight him; you are only a young man, and he has been a warrior from his youth.”

But David said to Saul, “I, your servant, have been keeping my father’s sheep. When a lion or a bear came and carried off a sheep from the flock, I went after it, struck it and rescued the sheep from its mouth. When it turned on me, I seized it by its hair, struck it and killed it. I, your servant, have killed both the lion and the bear; this uncircumcised Philistine will be like one of them, because he has defied the armies of the living God. The LORD who rescued me from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear will rescue me from the hand of this Philistine.”

Saul said to David, “Go, and the LORD be with you.”

Then Saul dressed David in his own tunic. He put a coat of armor on him and a bronze helmet on his head. David fastened on his sword over the tunic and tried walking around, because he was not used to them.

“I cannot go in these,” he said to Saul, “because I am not used to them.” So he took them off.
Then he took his staff in his hand, chose five smooth stones from the stream, put them in the pouch of his shepherd’s bag and, with his sling in his hand, approached the Philistine.

Meanwhile, the Philistine, with his shield bearer in front of him, kept coming closer to David. He looked David over and saw that he was little more than a boy, glowing with health and handsome, and he despised him. He said to David, “Am I a dog, that you come at me with sticks?” And the Philistine cursed David by his gods. “Come here,” he said, “and I’ll give your flesh to the birds and the wild animals!”

David said to the Philistine, “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the LORD Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the LORD will deliver you into my hands, and I’ll strike you down and cut off your head. This very day I will give the carcasses of the Philistine army to the birds and the wild animals, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the LORD saves; for the battle is the LORD’s, and he will give all of you into our hands.”

As the Philistine moved closer to attack him, David ran quickly toward the battle line to meet him. Reaching into his bag and taking out a stone, he slung it and struck the Philistine on the forehead. The stone sank into his forehead, and he fell facedown on the ground.

So David triumphed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone; without a sword in his hand he struck down the Philistine and killed him.

What is this story saying to you in this time, in this America, in this societal and church climate today?

The Olympics, A Right Butt Muscle, and a Left Armpit

I had the privilege of leading my final 2012 camp staff Bible study last night. After a review of everything we’d talk about over the summer (love languages, personality type, Genesis 1, God as Creator, Psalm 139, God as big enough to handle raw honesty), we dove into a study of Romans 12 and what it means to live our lives—our uniquely created and gifted lives—as sacrifices of praise who pour love into this world. I’d led studies on Romans 12 before, but last night’s study hit me in a new way—a deeper way—thanks to the Olympics, right butt muscle, and left armpit.

For the past few weeks, my left armpit and part of my shoulder have been going numb when I sit on a certain part of my right butt muscle (gluteus maximus for those who want to use the technical term). I hadn’t understood this odd connection until I did some research and learned that when I sit on a certain muscle on my right (that happens to be the one that I sit on when I drive and sit at my desk), it affects a muscle in my left back, that affects a nerve on my spine, that causes my armpit to go numb. Really? Our bodies are that intricately connected? (Yes. I know that our bodies are intricately connected, but for some reason this particular connection has fascinated me.)

When we speak of the body of Christ, we tend parallel parts such as hands, feet, mouth, heart, and brain. But what about the pleasure organs, the waste removal organs, the belly button, the scalines, the white blood cells, the right butt muscle, and the left armpit? They are parts of the body, too, and, as I’ve learned recently, they are important to a body’s proper functioning, albeit some are more important than others at different points in life.

We need all parts to make the whole.

All parts.

And we need all parts to be most fully themselves, most healthily themselves, which means acting as themselves instead of trying to function as something else, in order to function at our best.

Like many of you, I watched parts of the Olympics over the weekend. I watched the opening ceremony in awe, and I flat out cried as the Olympic flame was lit. To see the torch carried by seven teenagers—by seven of the finest of our future—and to see them embraced by their mentors—by the older persons who had believed and continue to believe in them—and to watch them light individual petals that had been carried into the arena by each country participating in the Olympics—and to watch those petals seamlessly connect with other petals and ignite flames from around the world—and to watch those petals rise up to form one united flame…well…it was absolutely amazing.

I also watched Goksu Uctas, the first Turkish gymnast ever to compete in the Olympics, perform a perfect balance beam routine. Before Goksu, no one from Turkey had considered it possible to compete in Olympic gymnastics. Because she considered it, though—because gymnastics gave her hope and purpose after her life was destroyed by an earthquake—because she trained against all odds, sometimes even practicing outside—she made it to the Olympics. Even though her routine wasn’t complicated enough to compete with the powerhouse individual scores, she did her very best with what she had been given, and she made her family, her coaches, her country, and this American very proud.

Unity in diversity. Doing your best with what you have. Believing in those who have gone before and will come behind you. Understanding your life as connected with other lives and owning the fact that what you do—good or bad—affects the larger whole. Accepting the call to consciously live your life in such a way that you are a living example of sacrificial love…

Those are the things that struck me last night during our Romans 12 study…all because of the Olympics, right butt muscle, and left arm-pit.

What truths are striking you today?

Only Lonely Understands

I found some old CDs at home in NC this weekend. As I drove back to SC last night, I listened to three of the CDs, singing along and feeling grateful for the music that was keeping me company. Toward the end of the trip, a song came on that I wasn’t expecting and the next thing I knew, I was crying. The song that played was “Tonight” by Sara Evans and the tears that flowed were from deep inside me...

I’m not exactly sure what hit me so hard when the song began. Maybe it’s my being a sucker for songs with a prominent piano part and it includes a strong emphasis on the keys...or maybe it’s the fact that the chorus says, “I don’t want to go home tonight,” and I was feeling sad about having to drive away from my family and friends again (although I realize that that’s totally not what that line is about in the song)...or maybe it’s the loneliness that I could hear throughout the storyline of the song and my self-proclaimed spiritual gift of crying for others who cannot cry. Whatever it was, it smacked me in my gut and left me crying an ugly, gasping cry for at least twenty minutes after I got back.

Despite fast-paced technology and social networking/media that keeps us instantly connected, we live in what I believe to be a lonely world. My dad recently told me that some of his most lonely moments occur when he is surrounded by people. I understand. It’s very possible to feel lonely when surrounded by people...especially when loneliness extends beyond passing feeling into permanent state of being.

I think that Sara Evans describes that permanent state of loneliness so well when she sings, “There's just some things only lonely understands.” [She also uses incorrect grammar, but I can forgive that here because of the profundity of the statement.] She also sings:

“I might be just a sinner
Who wants to be a saint
One justifies the reason
Oh, one understands the pain
And I don't know what's wrong baby
And I sure don't know what's right
But I don't want to go home tonight.”

Living in a permanent state of lonely leads one to do a lot of unhealthy things, and when unhealthy actions result in sinful actions—actions that hurt others and go against God’s design of love—the permanent state of lonely justifies the action out of a need to feel wanted, needed, and good enough—or maybe just to feel anything at all. The permanent state of lonely, I believe, stems from a hole in the core principle that we are loved—that we are authentically created beings with worth, value, and potential, and that despite what this world says, we are good enough—imperfect, different, and unique we may be. The permanent state of lonely, I believe, leads to isolation and secrecy that lead to more isolation and secrecy until we feel as if we are completely alone in our thoughts and often our shame—regardless of how many people truly love us.

I know what it is to live in the permanent state of loneliness while surrounded by love, but I also know what it is to have permanent made temporary through the transformational process of time, hard work, confession, acceptance, and grace.

So for everyone who has felt the “silent desperation” of loneliness, I must have hurt for you last night. I must have remembered that place and hurt for you—hurt for you and for those affected by and hurt by you—because we really are all connected. And while I was sad to drive away from my family and friends, and while I recognized the feeling of loneliness stirring inside me, I knew that I was not truly lonely in life anymore. I don't have that silent desperation. And I'm so thankful. And I’m so hopeful for everyone living in a permanent state of desperation—hopeful that it will be made temporary, that it will pass, and that each of us will daily realize that we are loved with a love so much richer and deeper and steady than anything we can comprehend.

----------

When You Can’t Escape
(from the lonely years)

Descending out of nowhere,
Exploding like a bomb,
Pressure securely locking windows and doors
Rendering daylight worthless.
Exaggerated lies become truth,
Stealing life from the breathing,
Smothering breath from the trying.
Intense heat scorches hints of soothing balm
Opening wounds that dangle between
Numbness and pain.
Heaven cries.
I love you falls on deaf ears.
Tomorrows linger.
Sleep cannot come soon enough.
Hearts shatter from calloused hands
Operating on figments of imagination.
Merciful Lord! Please break the fall.
Eternal God! Please hold me now.

Could Crying Be A Spiritual Gift?

As I squirmed in my bed and wept for over thirty minutes last night, I suddenly began to wonder: Could crying be a spiritual gift?

As I wrote in an e-mail to a dear friend this morning:

I had a really hard time falling asleep last night. I suppose that I finally fell asleep because I exhausted myself...although I do remember sitting up so that I could breathe and rocking myself gently back and forth.

I had a conversation about spiritual gifts yesterday. I've always taken Paul's list of spiritual gifts as the exhaustive list. Like...I really don't think that music is a spiritual gift, rather music is a talent that must be expressed through another spiritual gift if it is to be used to glorify God and build up others in the body of Christ. Think about it: how much music does NOT honor God and/or build others up?

BUT...let's say that the list isn't exhaustive--which it's likely not. COULD crying be a spiritual gift? I know it sounds silly. But when I start crying like I was crying last night, it's like it's from the very deepest part of my being. It's from this place that's way way way down deep--a place that I don't normally feel--very gutteral--very connected to my humanity--and I wonder if it's connected to all of humanity.

I know a lot of people who can't cry--or who don't cry--for whatever reason. So I wonder if maybe I'm crying out all of the angst and hurt and emotion that other people can't. I remembered Tonglen last night on one of my trips to the bathroom to blow my nose. I remembered that I wasn't the only person in the world feeling the sadness and grief and heartache that I was feeling last night. So I tried to feel it for everyone else feeling it--and those who couldn't--and then to breathe out peace...although my breathing was very ragged. And that's when I began to wonder if crying could be a spiritual gift...

Maybe it IS compassion or empathy or sympathy or something else. BUT. Other people feel those things, too, right? And they don't weep with the intensity and force with which I was weeping. You know?

So...COULD crying be a spiritual gift? I guess I'll sit with that thought and see.