I believe in God, but I don't always believe God. His existence is something I know is true, but God makes many promises in the Bible that I have a rough time with sometimes. Or if I know them in my head, my actions say my heart still isn't sure.
"I will never leave you or forsake you"
Grace walked in and she was crying. Not big, obnoxious tears, but those little tears that are more upset than sad. She had a cute face, dark, long lashes and two french braids that burst from her ponytails because of the humidity. Standing next to one of the teenage volunteers, both her hands sat close to her mouth and her eyebrows furrowed together. To me, this said, "My mom left me here so don't try and make me do anything. I'm mad and you're scary and I don't like you."
These children are a challenge, sometimes. You feel it when a little kid rejects you. The afternoon continued with singing, and good stomping beats that reminded us that we were in an urban day camp. It takes all of my coordination to stomp, clap, dance, and sing at the same time. These kids have rhythm and they can show you on the djembe too. Songs moved into the lesson and I heard the gospel preached for little ears. It's confusing when I hear it this way, because sometimes it's hard for me to imagine power of cosmic proportions so simple. Glancing to my left I looked for anyone for anyone out of place. And there was Grace.
I guess tears hadn't been consoled. Though everyone sat diligently in front of Isaac, she remained standing with her fists as her mouth. "I'm Ms. Anna, nice to meet you." ...Nothing. "Can I sit next to you?" Nod. YES!!!!! (It's the little things ;)) Little groans kept coming out of her mouth and I was worried if she was really sick or something. Or worse, if she really didn't know what was going on and thought we were crazy people trying to get her. After getting her water and figuring out she was seven, I realized she had wrapped her whole little self up in her sundress, arms and all, desperately trying to hide. ..."Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?" Nod. Hm...
It took her a while to figure out where the arms were and how to fit her fingers through the fading jean and strings of fraying thread. But she got it after a while, yanked it on and defiantly crossed her chest, all in the denim that's wrapped me up for years. It took a bit for her arms to relax but they did and she reached for the water, gulping it down in only a couple breaths. You can't even imagine my relief and fascination when I glanced over and she was sitting with her feet beside her, using her fingers to act out little animals and people. Baby hands tapped along the floor as I heard her whisper voices to match. Forgetting all about us and whatever had scared her half to death a while before, she finally felt safe enough to stop crying. Even better, she felt safe enough to play in the midst of her imagination. I could've sat there for quite a while, watching quiet contentment unfold with nothing but an empty cup and the floor.
This is what came to my mind last night when we were in the chapel having a worship service. We heard phrases like, "Give it to Jesus", or "Bring all your burdens to the cross", and in my head, I responded, "No. Where is a glass plate or porcelain mug I can chuck across the room? That is what I want right now. Now silently giving something to somewhere I don't understand." Now, dear reader, keep reading please. If you stop here I'll be upset. haha.
I was overwhelmed. Remember I told you that before? Remember the massage parlors that are brothels and houses of rape? Remember the Bronx and the man begging for food at the door of Burger King? Remeber the father with no 35 dollars and the kids who are called throw-aways? Remember the way I yelled at my team members yesterday? Remember the way I cynically analyze the church? Remember my identity searches that get me no where and my temptation to turn to vices of emptiness and lies and falsehood? Remember doubt?
It's time to forget the notion that all of this is permanent.
Right now, many of us are crying, I think, in our own ways. We are scared and feel a little abandoned by people we trust. We stand at the doorway with our fists by our mouth. Some of us have good reason to be afraid and take sin or cynicism and wrap ourselves all up in it, just trying to hide.
That's what I tried to do last night because all of these issues are too big for me. But here is where I need to shut up and listen to God. Maybe, sometimes, he even tells me about himself. Right next to me, he says I AM and he makes stars appear. Or he makes really good, nourishing food. Or he brings me a hug from a good friend. Or he helps non-profits start up to start fair trade goods. Or he brings one of my sisters into freedom through those he's called to do so.
You're probably tired of these lists. My point is, God is really happy with you. He's happy to see you. When you sit on the hardwood floor and play and an empty cup and make up stories, he smiles because you're content. He's happy to hear you say your name and that you're seven years old because he likes the way your voice sounds. When you are kind to your family members who drive you nuts, when you hold your significant other at night, or even when you lose a business deal. God is happy to see you.
There is the whole part about sin. We can't ignore it, and we need to repent. But I just hope that in no moment do you think that God isn't happy to hear you when you pray to him.
This week I've been learning that even if I only want to throw dishes, I should just shut up and believe in Jesus. He did miracles to bring us to the Father who wants to know us. And God moves among us every day that we may know him. Believing it all the time is hard, but I'm gonna start to fight this battle of life with someone who loves me and is happy to see me when I come home.
Sweet dreams, beloved one.
Anna
No comments:
Post a Comment