Posts Tagged ‘home’

Today at church was hard. Hard hard, seeing the orphans’ tender faces, the faces that God loves, scarred and disfigured from fights and self-injury. It makes me wonder about the scars I can’t see; the pain of rejection, the shame of prostitution for survival, the insidious addiction to drugs to escape the hell that is their everyday reality.

Babies sleeping on trash heaps. Toddlers living wholly on their own. Boys killing each other over coins. Girls desiring to commit suicide rather than be used by one more man.

Needless to say, there were many tears.

After church, Reina and I were talking about the things that hurt our hearts, and I mentioned how painful it is to really feel for the first time in my life. She said something that really made me think.

She said that it was like I’ve spent my whole life living in one room of my house. I haven’t ever experienced what it’s like to exist outside of, say, the bathroom. I know how to live in a bathroom, but I have no idea what it’s like to receive real nourishment in the kitchen. No clue how to rest in a bedroom. And even though it’s terrifying, God is calling me to the joy of these things; of eating and resting and exploring these rooms. To let my fingers graze their walls, to smell their smells, to sit in their chairs.

How would you explore a house you’ve always lived in but never known? The question begs to be answered.

I see this paralleled in my physical house. We’ve lived here more than eight years, but I’ve never decorated save a couple of paint jobs in bedrooms. I’m looking around for the first time and realizing that this home says nothing about who I am, who my family is. It’s time to change that.

I’ve never forgotten a few years ago when a friend visited and said that my house didn’t look like me at all. That’s likely because I had no idea who I was. Hopefully as I come to know myself, as I explore the potential in these rooms of my heart and my home, it’ll become more integrated. I think that’s part of authenticity, and I’m sort of excited to find out!

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Image from Riversonfineart.com

In preparing to leave our church, the Lord has been speaking two specific scriptures to me time and again. The first was preparatory, “I will not let you go until You bless me.” It was a double reminder: first, to be willing to struggle for the blessing of doing what God has called us to do, and second to know that we will not leave where we are without a wholehearted sending from our church.

The second scripture is Ex 3:1-6. There Moses was, tending his sheep on the mountain of God, minding his own business. Then, the angel of the Lord just appears in the burning bush. Moses, understandably interested in this on-fire-but-not-consumed bush, goes to check it out. As he approaches, God speaks to him by name.

“Take your sandals off, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.”

This morning, I had a thought. God called Moses to remove his sandals, when effectively all sandals did in those times was to keep a bit of separation from the elements. Moses’ feet were surely filthy beneath the thin bit of leather; sand gets in and on everything and sticks violently. So why remove them if what’s beneath is just as dirty as the shoes themselves?

Because God wanted Moses closer to Himself. He wanted what stood between them to be removed. God’s heart is that what separates us should be taken away so that even our filthy feet vibrate with His holiness.

I wonder, do the feet tingle while standing where God is? Do they reverberate with His awesome presence? Are we cleansed by simply standing where we are told to stand? I think so, on all accounts.

Last night we got our fourth and final green light in the new church process; I talked to the Not-So-Casual Observer about how the counseling relationship looks if we are in the same church. It was a good discussion, and so freeing to know that SHE is the one who will take care of the boundaries, all I have to do is follow her lead. That feels safe to me.

The grief is finally setting in, and I’m bracing myself for a season of painful goodbyes and well as painful hellos (I’m a little shy in new situations). I’m hoping to embrace it as yet another gift of this season of my life.

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