Imperfect

We all know a bit too much about imperfect.

It´s all around us. It´s inescapable.

Imperfect is when a college student does not return from class because they´ve been shot.

Imperfect is when the kids in El Salvador´s streets cannot avoid gangs, rape and empty futures. 

Imperfect is when families in Syria have access to no safe place on the entire planet. 

Imperfect is when the little girl still thinks her parent´s divorce was her fault.

Imperfect is the 17-year-old in court who has tried to stop smoking marijuana for two years but can´t, and all the rehab facilities have waiting lists.

Imperfect is an irregular heartbeat on an EKG that scares me.

Imperfect is the hidden tears on the young face of one I love. 

We know too much about imperfect.

Our belief in anything—humanity, reforms, beauty, God—waxes thin and our hearts grow tired of loving. But something inside of us shouts for reason…for don´t you only label things as imperfect because your soul also knows that perfect exists? Isn´t all this chaos of imperfection inversely defining some pristine and yet illusive concept of perfection?

Perhaps there is a “perfect” Love that would make us entirely less afraid. Perhaps there is a “perfect” way by which imperfect beings can be made spotless again through the grace and sacrifice of another. Perhaps there is a “perfect” sequence of events weaving itself above and beyond and through all this imperfection. Perhaps the only way for the superiority of Perfection to be made convincingly manifest is to let the ugliness of imperfection run its course. Perhaps this mess of broken and fallen realities will draw us, without force or coercion, to develop a loyalty within us that will never allow this to happen again.

He Writes

Several months have passed since posting any thoughts. I may have subconsciously wanted to give it a break and see if I would miss it. Or perhaps, I wanted to be sure of all of my motives.

With finals done, a lull in my work schedule, and the rain keeping me indoors, I´ve felt nudged by a still, small voice to make writing a priority again. I have been reminded of how much writing means to me. Writing brings greater introspection and awareness. Writing gives clarity, perhaps because the letters are arranged at regular intervals on a white page and neatly lined up in rows. The written words are, much like photographs, my souvenirs of having lived.

And so, I write. I want to write about Him—the tireless Writer. For when everyone gives up, He writes. When the present with its joys and troubles is all we can see, He writes eternal thoughts. When we think surely He has abandoned us, He still writes in a quiet corner. When in our weakness we are swept away by enemy floods, He wages war with His pen and rescues us.

His intent is simple, almost childish. His hands hold a writing tablet and He etches, a millimeter at a time, all things beautiful. But four letters take precedence.  An L, an O…and with painstaking precision a V and an E. Over and over, He carefully seeks another empty surface on the same tablet and begins again. He will not stop until it is perfect, until every space and corner is filled with His Love. He who has begun this good work will surely complete it.

And this is my hope. For when I am not faithful, I am called back and still God writes.

“The tablets were written on both sides; on the one side and on the other they were written. Now the tablets were the work of God and the writing was the writing of God engraved on the tablets.” (Exodus 32:15, 16)

“…not on tablets of stone but on tablets of flesh, that is, of the heart.” (2 Corinthians 3:3)

“…this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will put My law in their minds, and write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be My people.” (Jeremiah 31:33) 

For One

Reminiscing from Redwood Creek Summer Camp 2015

It took one small face. And then everything made sense…

His name is Bryce*. Almost from day one, he caught Joshua´s attention. “There´s something about that kid,” Josh told me, “He reminds me of me when I was that age…kind of troubled and yet there´s a spark inside of him.” Over the course of the week, Bryce´s reserved yet eager spirit had won my heart too.

Friday night comes. Most everyone has dispersed from the campfire area into the darkness. Bryce stays behind with head lowered. Thin shoulders heave slightly with emotion. His counselor, Leif, sits protectively close, visibly compassionate. Live embers still glow and spark in the fire area.

Josh and I linger nearby. I know Joshua longs to rush to him, but he considers for a moment. I am touched to the core by the small tearful figure. 

Joshua makes his way towards the two on the bench. From a distance I overhear snatches of an exchange among the three boys who all know more than a thing or two about hard things in life—Leif on one side, Josh on the other, both turned toward their younger brother who is hurting. I hear Bryce say “don´t have any parents” and “don´t ever want to leave camp.” They talk in quiet voices. I hear words of strength and comfort.

“Can we pray together?” Leif asks Bryce. The earnest young eyes shine as he eagerly nods. How I wish we could take him home!

The scene is embedded upon my soul. Everything makes sense now. He is the reason. Bryce is the reason. His young face makes every hour in board meeting, every minute spent on grant applications, every early morning at camp, all the rushing back and forth to the rappelling rock, every prayer offered in preparation for camp…all of it…he gives it purpose! He´s the reason why! He makes everything worth it a million times over!

Yes, every camper is equally amazing and important but with unexpected passion I realize we did everything for Bryce. He is enough. Without second thought, I´d do it all again…I´d do more…just for him. I´d heard our girls´ director say several times that we would do it all for just one camper, but now it clicks. I´d do it again…just for Bryce.

I look skyward, stars visible through the encircling trees. Leif and Bryce have gone to bed. Josh sits a few feet away deep in his own emotion. I can´t stop the tears that keep welling up in my eyes because…

God would do it all again. The cold nights, the days with little food, the profound exhaustion, the friends who betrayed, the death sentence, the Father´s face stolen away. God sees my tear-stained face, forlorn and needing a home…and He´d do it all again…just for me. I am enough. I make it worth it.   

 *Name changed

Normal

The green is more brilliant today. The sky is more strikingly blue. This is the clearest it´s been since the fires started over a week ago. The smoke has dissipated and the vibrancy of color returns. I´d almost forgotten what normal was.

I contemplate a comparison between the clearing atmosphere and the moment when we´ll at last see our God face to face rather than “through a glass dimly.”

We've almost forgotten what normal was. We hear only distant rumors of how life was before the haze of sin hid our Father´s countenance and sucked color from our vision. Were we indeed destined for evening walks with our Creator God?

When time brings restoration, a vaguely familiar face will appear—the Holy One who is Love, in full and glorious color. A hidden spring will flood my heart with recognition…this is the face we once knew. This is the original spectrum of color unveiled. Our souls will eagerly drink in the sight…because we´d almost forgotten what normal was. 

Re-minded

June 18. L.A. airport. Saying goodbye. My birthday gift.

“It wasn´t supposed to make you cry,” Joshua says. 

“It can be good to cry, Josh,” I reply, “these are not sad tears.”

I hold the notebook in my hands, turning the pages with incredulity. They remind me…of how God works, of His endless depth, of His heart-stirring call to a simple girl.

The notebook filled with reminders is an amazing gift. Likewise, the boy who gave me the notebook is also an amazing reminder from God—a reminder who brings joy to my existence and talks to me.

God knows I am forgetful and weak. I need reminders. Without them I will waste hours and days and years pursuing goals that get me no closer to lasting happiness. 

Where might I be without reminders?  Without a mother who prays for me, without friends who show me grace, without my Bible waiting at my bedside? Where might I be without kindred spirits who send me messages saying that they are praying that I will draw closer to Jesus´ heart this year than ever before? 

In life the stakes are high, but I forget. The Love is deep, but I turn from it. The God of my soul surrounds me, but I am blinded.

He sends me reminders in many shapes and sizes. Some of them I recognize and they make me cry at His goodness.

I close the notebook…fully re-minded.

“…but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind…”  

Can´t Wait

Time. I perceive it differently now. Every time his silver Honda disappears from view, time takes on new dimensions, a new edge. I can´t wait!

I can´t wait until the next time I get to see his smile or hear his familiar greetings over the phone. I suppose it´s a common enough type of anticipation felt by couples in the courtship phase of life. However common it may be, it is richly significant.  

It was this slight ache of anticipation one day that caused me to glance upward and ask, “How in the world do you do it, Father God? How can you possibly bear the centuries-long ache of waiting to embrace us and have us nearby?” 

If, after all, I find it difficult to wait a few days to see the boy who is winning my heart, what must be the depth of anxiousness that God feels towards several billion dear ones who He passionately loves and longs to dwell with? How must it feel for our God to be perpetually consumed with the intense feeling of “I can´t wait?” 

God´s response intrigued me.

“You´re right,” He said. “I can´t wait in a way that is far beyond your mind´s grasp. But one thing is better than being tangibly and visibly with you. One thing makes the wait bearable.”

“What would that be, Father God?”

“Being with your spirit. Communing with you heart to heart. I´d rather have this kind of closeness any day. Closer than close. Sure, I dream of embracing you, but until then I just want to dwell in your heart. And one day…I´ll have you nearby in every sense of the word. Truly, dear one, I know how you feel. I can´t wait.”   

Jealous

“Can I ask you something?”

(I´m never quite sure what to expect when I hear this question from Joshua. It could be a cute, silly question he´s about to ask or it could be a more difficult, heart-probing one. Nonetheless, I always say “Of course.”)

“Are you a little bit jealous?” he asked with a rare intonation in his voice that I couldn´t interpret.

“Um…hmm, let me think…I guess I haven´t really identified that emotion in myself very often, so I´m not sure exactly how it feels…but yes, it could be I´m a little jealous.”

His reply was a chuckle.

“Why are you laughing, Josh? It´s obviously something I need to work on.”

“It´s funny thinking of you being jealous. It´s kind of cute. It´s been a long time since someone cared about me enough to be jealous.”

It was a small incident. He had met with a friend to study for an exam. The friend was a girl. He hadn´t thought anything of it until it had come up in our conversation. He immediately apologized for not having explained his plans to me first before meeting with his classmate. I knew he hadn´t intended to keep anything from me and I was ready to move on to another topic when the whole “jealousy” question came up.

Joshua´s comments had an unexpected impact. I had to stop and contemplate the implications of godly jealousy versus human jealousy. I went to the scriptures and confirmed that God´s word describes God, not just once but several times, as a Jealous God. Innately, God is a God of passion and zeal. While my jealousy is most likely centered on self, God´s jealous nature is focused on a deep desire to be close to us, to be in relationship with us. When other things and other people get in the way of us being completely His (and thus, completely happy), He is jealous. When sin separates us from Him, He is angered, not because He is angry in human terms but because He ardently Loves in Divine terms. 

Although God´s jealousy is far too sacred to be described as “cute,” it is sweetly incredible that He cares enough about me to be jealous.

“Yes,” God admits, “I´m a bit jealous over you.”  

"They have provoked Me to jealousy by what is not God; they have moved Me to anger by their foolish idols."

Deuteronomy 32:21