It’s been some time since I’ve posted. I’ve been ridiculously busy.
And playing Settlers of Canaan (not to be confused with Catan). It’s the Bible version and it’s about 3 1/2 million times more fun.
Wow, I had a DAY today. I encountered tragedy today in another that has left me feeling almost physically weighed down. My heart aches because everything about it is so wrong and not the way things are supposed to be. I wish I could express to these dear people that I am so sorry.
The Spanish language conveys it more accurately: Lo siento.
I feel it and I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I can’t share details, but please pray knowing the Lord knows the Who and the What.
I am 25 years old. In the last week I have spoken and prayed with women who have encountered more grief and more pain than I hope to ever know, and I have felt completely inadequate. I have called desperately upon the Lord for wisdom beyond my years and my experiences, and more than that, for His heart of unfailing love that sings over His people.
I read a blog some time ago and the writer shared that she had prayed that God would devastate her with His love. That struck me because oftentimes what we need to be shaken from our apathy and self-centeredness is some devastation, some devastating love. I’ll come back to finish that in a minute. Follow me here.
I worked this morning at 5am. I told my co-workers that I’d like to declare today a national holiday: National Complaining Passenger Day. I was dealing with some of the nastiest of the nastiest of people.
On top of a nasty and uncalled for note that greeted me when I walked into work this morning. On top of being bone tired. On top of being famished and having extremely low blood sugar, which equals Irritability To The Highest. My thoughts were full of angry and hateful things.
I had to push a man in a wheelchair through security and up to the gate because his achilles tendon snapped playing rugby the day before, and the whole time I was berating him in my mind for not lavishing me with thankfulness and acknowleding all the hard work I was doing. Sick. Of all the people at my work that should be the “least of these” and the first to serve another, I was complaining. Albeit internally.
My morning ended with an irrational woman one fuse short of an atomic bomb explosion after I informed her that we would not be putting her on another airline because SHE missed her flight, and it was HER fault (I made sure to emphasize that).
I say all that to say that that was me this morning. I was tired, angry, impatient, hungry, bitter, and feeling unappreciated and unfairly treated.
By the time I got home, I wanted nothing more than to hit my knees before my Lord. I needed Him desperately. I needed Him to cleanse my heart of my sin and make it clean again. I couldn’t fathom going to church in my present condition with nothing to offer anyone but a fake smile and insincere words.
So I poured my heart out to Him and asked Him to fill my heart with His love today for people.
To devastate me.
And it hurts. I thought my heart would break in half today.
But how much better to feel? I hate apathy. I hate desensitization. I hate selfishness. I hate callousness. I hate trite answers. I hate it in other people. And I especially hate it in myself.
It’s tempting to stay in a safe, comfortable world, isolated from the tragedies of others. After all, I have my own problems, right?
Like what color highlights to get. And what kind of swimsuit cover-up to buy.
No, that makes me sick. I want to live in the real world. And I want to love real people. And that means sharing the burden of tragedy. It means being uncomfortable. It means not having all the right answers. It means simply being quiet when words fall short. It means expending myself on their behalf.
I’m not saying I’m there. Not even close. I need the unfailing love of the Lord and His sufficient grace.
And so do you.