Loved By a God I Can't See

It came in the form of a fire extinguisher, a birthday gift from a co-worker, Simon, after I told him how I paranoid I was about using my fireplace, visions of burning the place down flashing through my mind. He left the extinguisher on my desk with a simple note that said, "Safety first. Always. Happy birthday! Simon."  The gift and the gesture brought tears to my eyes.  Ever know anyone to get weepy over a fire extinguisher? Now you do.  It was practical and thoughtful, and it made me feel known and loved, all because he had paid attention to the details of my life and had listened to my fears.

It came in the form of a late night FaceTime call with a friend of mine, Derek, from college.  I had already crawled into bed, and normally I would haven't answered my phone, but when I saw his name pop up and that he wanted to FaceTime no less, I fumbled in the pitch black to answer my phone, afraid something was wrong. He told me to get my laptop, he needed me to watch something. I opened my email, clicked the link he sent, and picked my jaw off the floor as I watched. It was a personal video from Matt Wertz, a longtime favorite musician of mine. Derek had managed to miss my birthday, and this was his way of making it up to me. It was lavish and outrageous, and it made me feel known and loved, all because he had paid attention to the details of my life and went to great lengths to make me feel special.      

Those moments, those gifts, and so many others in recent weeks have been like spring rains on parched ground.  When my co-worker left something as ridiculously practical as a fire extinguisher on my desk, he couldn't have known he wasn't merely being a gift-giver he was being a human courier delivering a supernatural message.  And when my friend called late at night with instructions to watch a video link, he couldn't have known that just days prior I had penned a note by my bedside, asking myself the question, "What does it mean to be loved by a God I can't see?" 

     
The love of God is terribly abstract to me, like some sort of painting by Kandinsky or Pollock, something you stare at for hours, squinting your eyes, straining to find something familiar but you still leave scratching your head a bit. Ever the 'reliable realist,' I prefer to deal in concrete terms, with things I can touch and feel and lay eyes on.  And God's love is seemingly not something I can touch and feel and lay eyes on. Yes, I can read about his love in the Bible, and yes, I know the Bible verses that say "God is love," but what does all of that really mean? How do I translate all of those abstract concepts into terms I can define and grasp? I want so desperately for God to make perfect sense to me, to have him line up in very linear ways.  I want to strip him of his mystery and put him in terms I can understand.

I have a photocopied version of a story whose source I cannot recall, tucked away in a stack of notes to keep. I've carted it around for years, probably since grad school. It's the story of a little girl who lost her mother tragically and suddenly.  Her father pulled a few blankets into her room one night after the funeral to sleep on the floor next to her bed, just to be close to her in case his daughter needed him.  He could hear her sobbing at one point, and he reached over to grab her hand. She sighed and said, "Oh, that's so much better."  The father responded, "Sweetie, you know we can lean on Jesus when we are sad, right?" His daughter replied, "I know, Daddy, but tonight I need someone with skin on."

That's what I say to God so often.  I know I can lean on Jesus, I know I can trust him and I can intellectually agree with the fact that he loves me.  But sometimes in my humanity and frailty and short-sightedness, I wish he had skin on and was sitting next to me to tell me all that. Maybe then I could wrap my arms around him, to deal with him in concrete terms, to lay eyes on him. Maybe then I could make sense of the words God is love. Maybe then I could make sense of what it means to be loved by a God I can't see.

But that is the crux of faith, to believe what we cannot see, to love what we cannot hold with our bare hands, to trust when it seems there is no net.  "For we walk by faith, not by sight," 2 Corinthians 5:7 declares. Somewhere along the way we have to decide that faith is greater and more precious than sight.  We have to decide that we'll follow God even when we can't make sense out of him, even when his love seems unfathomable to us.      

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls." - 1 Peter 1:3-8

Though I have not seen him - not in the literal sense, at least - I love Him.

Because I know he sees me.

And being loved by a God I can't see often means He sends earthly friends with skin on to remind me of that fact.

MIA

I know, I've been a little MIA.  I apologize.  A lot has been happening since I last wrote:

I worked ten days straight, not thinking I should take a vacation day somewhere in there after the training I was coordinating.  I made a note to myself for next year's training: take the Monday off after training.

My best friend, Alex, got married.  Most amazing wedding ceremony ever. Loved everything about it.

I watched my other friend, Jenna, walk down the aisle via Skype.  I couldn't be in two places at once and her wedding was in Tulsa one day after Alex's so I had to resort to technology in order to witness the occasion.

I got sick with a sinus infection for the umpteenth time this year. Pesky things.  I slept so much I thought somebody had given me a tranquilizer dart.  

I went to a Ben Rector concert last week in Cincinnati which was stellar.  This was a rather spontaneous decision made the day before the concert.  Matt Wertz and Chris Tomlin are later this week.  Three concerts in 8 days.  And I don't even like concerts normally.

My car turned over 100,000 miles.  The doors didn't fall off, alarms didn't sound, the tires didn't go flat nor did all the bolts come flying off when I hit that magical number.  This baby is fully paid for so I intend on running it into the ground before I ever see the likes of another vehicle, and God help me - I don't ever want to see another car payment again in my life.  If I can't pay cash for it then I guess I better be finding me a camel to rent to get to work.

I paid off my student loan - which means I am officially debt free!  Dave Ramsey would be proud.

I celebrated my birthday.  I preferred to skim over it and started planning my own birthday party for next year when I hit a big one.  Current plans include Vancouver, Alaska, or Ireland.  I am open to other suggestions.

I have been inundated with new music, including the new Civil Wars album.  I am obsessed with the song "Dust to Dust" and "Eavesdrop."  I also have the new albums from Matt Wertz, Ben Rector, Shane and Shane, Bethel Music and Tyrone Wells.

I have been considering chopping off my hair.  Like Anne Hathaway, post-Les Mis short.  That is if I don't chicken out.  I'm itching for change.  And since moving to another city or finding another job just isn't very practical at the moment, I am simply aiming for a new hairstyle.

Those are the cliff notes.  When I come up for air again, you'll be the first to know.   

God's Funny Like That...

Let's just say yesterday was not the greatest of days.  I don't want to use the words "horrible" or "awful" because I feel like it's an insult to those who are legitimately having bad days, like my friends Jon and Alex.  Both have been in the hospital since Wednesday night, independent of one another.  Alex suffered another round of severe Crohn's pain and was staring down the possibility of another surgery.  And Jon - well, some very scary moments when I thought I was going to lose my precious friend.  He is wheelchair-bound due to Muscular Dystrophy and has been quite sick in general here lately, problems breathing and things.  But heart problems popped up on Wednesday, starting with an irregular heartbeat.  It went downhill from there, to the point on Thursday night where he was non-responsive.  And to go into the hospital yesterday to see him, to feel so helpless in the face of something that I could physically do nothing to fix, I wanted to run and hide.  And to look his mom in the eye as she pulled back from a hug, tears streaming down her face, barely whispering, "We almost lost him, Courtney..."  Sometimes the thought is too much.

So me not getting a job that I so desperately wanted, one that I knew I could have done well, seemed an afterthought in the midst of all that my friends were going through.  They were fighting for their next breaths, hoping those moments to be without pain, and here I was crying my eyes out about not getting a job.  Life wasn't making a whole lot of sense yesterday.

After making the rounds at the hospitals, I needed to run some errands to pick up some things on the "to buy" list.  As trivial and meaningless as it seems in the face of what has been happening, I was on a mission to find a pair of skinny jeans.  I don't own a pair and quite frankly, never have cared to own a pair, but for whatever reason, I decided to cave and buy a pair.  So I made a pit-stop at the mall.  I'm looking at jeans and as I'm becoming aware of what's playing over the stereo, I hear the lyrics, "...everything's right, hey, everything's right tonight..."

Of course, God would do something like that.  He plays Matt Wertz, one of my  all-time favorite musicians, in the middle of a crowded mall at the moment when I most needed to know that everything was, in fact, going to be right.

So, not only did I get a pair of skinny jeans (on sale!) out of the deal, I got a gentle reminder from a sovereign God via Matt Wertz:

Everything's right.

Long Time, No See

Ahhh, Matt Wertz. So good to see you again, my friend.

My buddy Jill and I took a road trip down to Nashville (NashVegas to some) this past weekend to see Matt Wertz and Ben Rector in concert.  The last time I saw Matt in concert was 4 years ago and the ticket cost $5 - and to be honest, I didn't know who Ben was until probably a month ago when we decided to actually make the trip happen. 

It was at this little venue called Exit/In in the West End of Nashville, near Vanderbilt's campus.  We spent Friday night and Saturday morning/early afternoon bumming around downtown Nashville, The Gulch, and then the West End.  So many great little niches in the area.  And after walking around Vandy's campus, I had fleeting thoughts of wondering why I didn't go to school there. 

Our tickets said 8:00 start time.  So, in my orderly little mind I took that to mean the show would actually begin at that time, with doors opening maybe an hour or so early.  I should know better when it comes to such things.  We walk up at 7:15 or so and there is already a line of people waiting.  So we jump in line, thinking the doors will open soon.  But no.  The doors don't even open until 8, let alone have the show start.   We finally get in, get settled up on the balcony, decent view.  Eight-thirty rolls around.  No Ben.  Nine comes and goes.  No Ben.  Not even so much as someone walking on stage to check his guitar or something.  Jill and I are checking our watches, thinking we are such grandmas because we are already yawning, thinking what a brutal morning it is going to be after being up so late and then having a 7-hour drive ahead of us.  Nine-thirty - movement behind the curtain.  It's Ben!  Finally!  He jams out to a few songs, and then the magic hour rolls around.

Matt makes it on stage at 10:30 and I think I broke out into the most absurd grin ever.  I adore this guy and I love his music!  He plays a great set and then about part-way through, he's talking about how he wrote this next song with a good buddy of his,  Dave Barnes.  Then Dave walks out!  Could the night get any better?!  I was done checking my watch at this point.  We stuck around for the encore songs and walked into fresh air at 12:15 a.m.  My body didn't know what to do at that hour.

Matt Wertz and Ben Rector - you were worth the 14-hour round-trip from Ohio, the long wait in line, the hotel bill, and everything in between.

But do you think you could make it to Columbus next time?     

I Need Africa More than Africa Needs Me

I listen to a lot of Matt Wertz's music.  And Matt Wertz loves Africa, which makes me like him even more.  He supports an organization called The Mocha Club and while browsing around through the Mocha Club's website, I found this:



"When I think of Africa, the following images immediately come to mind: Starvation. AIDS. Child soldiers. Genocide. Sex slaves. Orphans. From there, my thoughts naturally turn to how I can help, how I can make a difference. "I am needed here," I think. "They have so little, and I have so much." It's true, there are great tragedies playing out in Africa everyday. There is often a level of suffering here that is unimaginable until you have seen it, and even then it is difficult to believe. But what is even harder is reconciling the challenges that many Africans face with the joy I see in those same people. It's a joy that comes from somewhere I cannot fathom, not within the framework that has been my life to this day.

The images spilling out of my television showed circumstances that could seemingly only equal misery, and I was fooled. I bought into the lie that circumstance defines happiness. The truth is, in Africa I find hearts full of victory, indomitable spirits. In places where despair should thrive, instead I find adults dancing and singing, and children playing soccer with a ball crafted of tied up trash. Instead of payback, I find grace. Here, weekend getaways are not options to provide relief from the pains of daily life. Relationships and faith provide joy. Love is sovereign.

My new reality… I know now that my joy should have no regard for my circumstances. I'm ashamed by my lack of faith, but at the very same moment I am excited by my new pursuit. I'm forced to redefine the meaning of having much or having little. I'm uneasy with the prospect of change and of letting go, but just the thought of freedom is liberating. I want what I have learned to trickle down from my head into my heart - I no longer want to need the "next thing" to have joy.

I'm not saying that Africa does not need our efforts. It absolutely does need our partnership. But for me, I've come to understand that I NEED AFRICA MORE THAN AFRICA NEEDS ME. Why? Because it is Africa that has taught me that possessions in my hands will never be as valuable as peace in my heart. I've learned that I don't need what I have and that I have what I need. These are just a few of this continent's many lessons. I came here to serve and yet I've found that I have so much to learn, and Africa, with all its need, has much to teach me.