Invited

It was a simple invitation.

My friends were going on a rock climbing adventure, the text message read. I was invited.

I should not have been surprised, but I was.

For some reason I felt oddly humbled to be included. I felt somehow undeserving of the invitation… Maybe because I knew that girls could have been conveniently excluded from the outing. Maybe because I knew I had no experience, skill, or equipment to contribute to the group.

Though unable to adequately express my gratitude, I treasured my first rock climbing experience as a unique gift…from my friends, from my mom (who captured the moment in photos and permitted me to go), and from my heavenly Father (who gave us the natural world and a spirit of adventure).

The lovely feeling of being invited lingers with me. My mind recalls an invitation I received over 10 months ago—an invitation to the endless adventure of discovering the depths of God´s wondrous Love. As morning sunlight warms my face, I realize again—God is calling, inviting me to experience the next page of adventure with Him.

I am invited. Not because anything I´ve done merits being included on this expedition. Not because God needs someone with experience, skill or equipment (which I don´t have). He just wants the pleasure of my company! He wants to give me the abundant life!

The adventure is for you too. You are invited!   

     

Most Valuable Friend

(Aware that the following exchange could sound presumptuous to some ears, I delayed in sharing it. However, with time I realized that it is no more presumptuous to share this experience than for any of us fallen human beings to sing hymn 186 out loud. It is perhaps better to not risk missing the chance to give a glimpse or reminder of how real a friendship with God can be. It may be me, after all, in need of such a reminder.)

Excerpt – Hymn 186

I´ve found a Friend; oh, such a Friend!

He loved me ere I knew Him;

He drew me with the cords of Love,

And thus He bound me to Him.

  

I have this Friend. We met to hang out at the bridge yesterday. We talked, pondered things together, and just sat peacefully in growing knowledge of each other.

As I got up to leave He said, “Thank you for being my friend even though I´m invisible.”

Struck by His heart-felt gratitude, I replied, “Of course. Thank You for being my friend even though I´m often too deaf to hear You and too hard-hearted to believe You.”   

He spoke softly, “Let´s never stop being friends. Never stop trying to get to know Me.”

At that exact moment I knew. I realized that the beginnings of my friendship with my Savior were real! Why else would the most joyous part of my Sabbath involve seeking His invisible company on top of an old bridge?

I confess…I like Him. He makes me smile. He has the uncanny ability of lightening my heart at any hour of the day. He doesn´t mind when I´m quiet, although He also seems delighted when I have lots to say. I, in turn, have learned not to mind when He is quiet. I listen when He is brimming with pent-up emotions, whether happy or sad. He speaks only true things to me. I treasure the smallest of insights into His way of thinking. I like being here for Him. He is always there for me. Yes, I like Him very much indeed and find Him entirely Lovely!

Half-walking, half-skipping to my car, I quip, “If You don´t mind the barriers to our friendship, then I don´t either!” (My demure way of saying, “If You can put up with me then I´m sticking around because You are amazing!)

He didn´t have to reply because I knew what He was thinking…sometimes friends know things like that.   

I don´t believe you

It was a sinking and momentarily devastating feeling. No one had ever told me that they seriously doubted my sincerity. Two things made the admission worse—the fact that it came from a friend and the fact that their disbelief concerned an experience that was extremely beautiful to my heart.

I listened...too crushed to say much. I did my best to understand. Tears surfaced. (To think, I had evoked mistrust and doubt in a friend´s mind by how I had lived or spoken or acted.) I immediately wanted to identify where I had gone wrong. Was I truly as insincere as I had been perceived? Were my words perhaps not trustworthy at all? I thanked my friend for their honesty. Our friendship grew after that conversation, but I cannot completely forget the feeling it gave me—to not be trusted, to not be believed. 

Over the months a growing realization is that it is me who, after years of “belief in God,” has never TRULY believed half of what God has spoken and done in Love towards me. Unlike me, God´s heart is infinitely sincere. I prance around His miracles and enjoy the light of His pursuing Love while holding on to partial, superficial belief in Him. With a lifetime of outward belief on my résumé (church goer, scripture memorizer, hymn singer, etc.), where is the absolute belief that would seep into my every day and tinge my every conscious thought? Where is the radical faith that would make my eyes glow with peace and Love beyond measure? Having whispered the words “I love You” to God, can I make decisions that shout “But I only half-believe most of what You say?” Can I doubt the sincerity of One who wordlessly died to give me life?

We have believed in enough counterfeits, have we not? We try to prove ourselves or our ideas worthy of belief. We have believed in things…the power of prayer, the necessity of belief itself, our denominational doctrines, the Christian virtues. Our belief must become deeper and simpler. God seeks one who will simply believe in His Name. His Name is Love. Love cannot lie. Love keeps its promises. With our wavering hearts, we fall short of absolute belief in this life-changing Love. We doubt syllables, phrases, and entire sentences of His truth. Oh God, help thou our unbelief.

The Gentleman

“Here, let me get the door for you.”

The fact that it was a car door threw me off. No one had ever intentionally quickened their step in order to open a car door for me. Weren´t things like that usually done for ladies in formal dresses on special occasions, not for girls in mud-covered hiking boots on ordinary days? It felt strange and—being rendered temporarily speechless—I got into the car without even a word of thanks.  

Controversial discussions on gender dynamics aside, I have a growing respect for sincere gentlemanly behavior. Such behavior is truly an above-average blend of respect, honor, and humility, and should never be considered antiquated unless somehow we no longer find those three traits meaningful. Interestingly enough, the same three traits also characterize a dying mode of behavior among women—ladylikeness.

Flashback to the first days of 2014. The wind was biting cold and I was openly shivering as my sister, two cousins, and a friendly middle-aged couple stood waiting for the bus to pick us up from outreach at GYC-Orlando. I was not dressed warmly, I admit…but who would have expected such freezing weather in Florida? We chatted with the couple and the gentleman calmly took off his thick, flannel-lined coat. With one confident movement he placed it around my shoulders while saying, “Could you hold this for me?” I was not speechless that time and gave him my sincerest smile and thanks.

These instances have left an impression on my heart. They bring to mind another gentleman I´ve been privileged to know. He takes His own robe and covers my rags, all the while being sensitive to make me feel like I´m doing Him a favor by accepting His gift. He is not too proud to give me more chances than I deserve when I despise His Love and grace. He offers to carry my burdens. He willingly forgives. He is valiantly protective of me and yet always gives me the right to choose. He offers a strong arm whenever I am weary. He hurries to open doors for me and yet knocks patiently at the door of my heart instead of demanding entrance. He leaves spring flowers where He knows I will find them and be delighted (which makes Him more than just a gentleman, but a romantic gentleman at that).

It feels strange…being the recipient of such behavior…but it melts me every time. What can one do with such a God—such a Gentleman—but Love, serve, and be devoted to Him forever?      

 

Overwhelming Borders

When a day overwhelms its borders, you end up exhausted in your bed but unable to sleep. The eyes long to close, but your mind wants to use the remaining hours of darkness to bring closure to the fullness of emotion. It is fullness that is keeping my weary body awake. It´s past midnight and yet I am eager to continue feeling the joy, solemnity, and newness of what happened today. The truth is I don´t want to let go of the beauty of this moment; I don´t want it to end. The accumulated scenes and sounds of this day were too much for 24 hours. I may just need a lifetime to truly appreciate the events framed within one sunrise and one sunset.   

The apex of August 24, 2013, was being present at the baptism of a young person who I love as a sister. My immediate family, our close circle of young adult brothers and sisters, and our extended church family watched as my dad immersed her in cold waters. We knew that it was the power of the living God that had brought us to this river´s edge. Songs rose. Knees bent under the gray sky. She had chosen to be God´s and He had chosen her. Heaven came down and touched every cheek with ocean mist.

I felt like shouting jubilantly, smiling recklessly, and letting tears flow. All expressions seemed appropriate, but all I could manage were a couple happy words and reflective smiles. I sensed that just as our friend was symbolically walking into newness, we would likewise never be the same because of how our hearts were mutually bound together with hers in Christ. An invisible seal of eternity settled around us.

Unfeigned love and recognition of God´s sacrifice continued to thrill us—taking a stroll in the fresh air and later on participating in a sacred concert and sharing time. I shut the piano lid and stepped out of the side door of the church. I almost didn´t want to head over to the center where we were going to serve refreshments. I was too full already.  

 

Feeling the Absence

She said she was going to miss us.

“Especially you and your family,” she added seriously. “You don´t know how much.”

I didn´t get it. Her admissions left me slightly confused and amused. She was going away for less than three months. Great learning experiences awaited her in new, interesting places. I couldn´t quite understand her degree of melancholy. Sure, I was going to miss her too, but no need to be overly sentimental about it.

A week and five days have passed. I´ve had to jump in the river, eat at a Japanese restaurant, attend Thursday night Bible study, watch Pride and Prejudice, scramble over giant fallen redwoods, and throw an Aerobie Frisbee for it to finally hit me—I don´t just miss my friend, I truly miss her. It could be said I miss her company, her craziness, her laugh, her phone calls, her multi-faceted support…but that would be a small percentage of the entire truth. My missing of her sinks deep into that region of my heart where words fail. It´s now my turn to feel sentimental.

If I had to describe what is missing, I´d say I miss the bond we share when she´s part of my days. There´s something different about life´s experience when you have someone next to you who knows you well and chooses to love you as you are, and who has likewise let themself be known and loved by you. There´s underlying comfort in being near one who won´t too quickly misinterpret your silences and gracefully looks past your everyday mistakes. That person is safer and more confident with you nearby, and you are likewise less afraid and more at ease when they are present.                  

A bond like this is rare and precious. I think, perhaps, I´ve begun to taste the emotion that my best friend was trying to express. I am recognizing that her pre-trip sentimentality was rather insightful.

My mind turns to another Friend who deeply cherishes authentic bonds with us. One who knows all, and yet still longs to be known; who sees into billions of souls, but still values individual beauty and glimpses beyond unsightly personal flaws. One who considers separation from us emotionally wrenching. One who draws courage from a single open conversation.  One who, though invisible, is not far from any one of us.

When you choose a divergent path, the growing distance breaks His heart. He misses you. You can´t imagine how much.

Writing to Remember

(Thoughts on my mind after the Sabbath service presented by our young adult Bible study group - This Generation for Christ - on April 27, 2013)

Something must be written.

“Why?” some part of me asks, “You have a school assignment to finish.”

“Why must it be written? When words capture so little of the depth, so few of the emotions? Why must it? Who will care?”

The answer comes. It´s one I´ve heard before. The simple answer is that I use words to hold on, to hold on to pieces of my life. It´s impossible to hold on to everything, but I capture snatches, remnants of what my heart has felt, what I have seen, understood, touched, and tasted. I want to remember in five years, or thirty years. I want to re-glimpse a moment through my 25-year-old eyes. Through these honest words I want to hold on to a few things that possibly won´t survive in my memory otherwise.

For this reason something must be written…about this exhilaration, this gratitude.

I saw their faces come through the rear doors of the church. As I began playing the piano, I sensed them, more than saw them, filling the front two pews. The room held a rare energy. I felt a heart-deep smile spread across my face, my soul relaxed. Things would be fine. My friends were here.

Minutes later, I glanced around at the five young people who were on the panel discussion with me. Sincere eyes, sincere voices responding. Hints of nervousness pushed aside by the familiarity of sitting next to friends and being ourselves. At that moment, I knew I was blessed. Blessed to be one of “them,” one of the group.

Attentive expressions in the audience. A friend and sister audibly supporting via video clip. The ready presence of a friend standing next to me. Complete confidence that we would both say the right thing. My own voice reading the affirming words of the Most High God. The knowledge that our best had been done. Young voices singing an old hymn of renewed devotion.

The experience is still sinking in. The unity felt on that platform drifted into a hike, a spontaneous invitation in the church parking lot, earnest evening sharing, and a unique fullness of joy. What else must God have in store for us?     

21 Years and Changing

My friend celebrated her 21^st birthday a couple of weeks ago. Twenty-one.

She still has the long, flowing hair that I have admired since first meeting her eight or so years ago.  She is unchanged in other ways too, such as in her distinct air of propriety and elegance that has always led me to suspect that she must have royalty in her blood. Her stubbornness and underlying mischievousness still spring forth and make her who she is. But, of course, she is also different from the girl I first knew, whether she recognizes it or not. Life and experiences, frustration and laughter, words and images, have changed us all.  

I step back for a moment and look around. Another friend departs. I make a fresh acquaintance. An idea crumbles. I hear a strange echo. I lack words in a new situation.  It´s uncomfortable trying to identify how to react, how to prepare for what you don´t know, how to stand alone when before you had company, how to call a new number when you have the old one memorized.

Change. Life brings it. God sometimes requires it. The thought of it thrills us. The reality of it shakes our core.

And so, my wish for my young friend is this…that the change life brings may gracefully mold her into increasing richness of character, and that those changes will simultaneously reveal to her the dimensions and strength of the unmovable foundation whereon she stands.