Bruises, addictions, and grace

Mile log: 552

Have you ever read a book, heard a message, or listened to a song that seemed to bruise your soul? It's the kind of thing that knocks you off your feet and throbs for a while, deep and constant, and then lingers longer as a tender, sensitive, and vividly colorful reminder of what hit you. This has happened to me a few times in my life so far, and while it hurts a lot, it is a good thing and I'm thankful for it. Last night, a friend said, "It reminds us that we bleed..." and sometimes we have to bleed in order to heal, grow, and become stronger.

This time the bruise came from a book called All is Grace, about the life of Brennan Manning, author and speaker renowned for his book The Ragamuffin Gospel, among others. I mentioned it a few posts back, and finished reading it this morning. The thing that amazed (and disturbed) me the most was to find out that he was an alcoholic his whole life... it was an addiction that he struggled with and fell into over and over again in big and destructive ways, even in the midst of his amazing ministry of writing and speaking... while his message of grace was inspiring and changing lives all over the country.

Then I thought of Abraham, and Jacob, and Moses, and Samson, and Barak, and Jephthah, and other losers in the Old Testament who are noted in the "Hall of Faith" of Hebrews 11. I get so ticked off when I read their stories: why on earth would God choose to use these guys? It's not even that they were a mess and God fixed them up and then used them... they were a mess their whole lives! Severely insecure, whiny and needy, impulsive, manipulative, unfaithful, and full of themselves. I see a lot of these problems in my own heart, and it isn't pretty, and when I realize how often I give in to these things and violently wrestle with them, I'm amazed at how God continues to use me in ministry, in spite of it all. I think the characters in the Old Testament all had an "alcoholism" of sorts - an internal addiction to something that eased the ache of something deep inside that they may or may not have ever really recognized for what it was. And I have my own forms of alcoholism too.

I think maybe that is what every sin is... the things we run to, to numb the pain of the reality that we are separated from God. And when we come to Jesus and he saves and forgives, there is a shift - we don't need sin anymore because the relationship has been restored - we have access to God, and he is with us, and his power gives us victory over the bondage of sin. But the restoration isn't complete yet, and won't be complete until we are Home with Him... and as the Redeemed, we have that promise and the guarantee of it is the seal of the Holy Spirit, so we should just be able to rest in that promise until it is fulfilled. But we get impatient and restless, and like the Hebrews in the wilderness, we so easily forget the promise. And we revert back to what it felt like to not have relationship with God at all; we translate the small temporary void in our souls into a much bigger, older, and more eternal void (which doesn't actually exist anymore in those who are in Christ!).

But God is so merciful and gracious and patient with us... because even when we forget, He remembers that He redeemed us, and He remembers what is promised, and He knows He will keep that promise and how good things will be when it is fulfilled. Maybe that is why He doesn't give up on us, why He forgives and makes his mercies new every morning, and why He is determined to use us for the praise of his glory and the furthering of his kingdom, even as we wrestle through our mess. And what a beautiful story it is, when we see how God's glory triumphs against all odds - the odds being US, broken and messy and frustratingly forgetful creatures - and no matter what, he still loves us and uses our lives to highlight his love and grace.

Sweet and sour grapes

Mile log: 547

Last week, Meng Pu said to me, "Your ministry is very good... you are like a sweet grape." He then proceeded to talk about John 15, and how those branches that remain with the vine bear much fruit... aka, those who rest and remain and receive their life from Christ Jesus grow and produce good things that bless others and lead others to desire to be with Him, too. A sweet grape... I smiled because I have never before been called that, but it felt like a high and honorable compliment that gave glory to God. After all, a grape is only good if it comes from a very good vine.

This week, I have not felt like a very sweet grape, though. In fact, there have been several times when I made myself sick with the sour and rotten thoughts and feelings I have allowed to rise up in me. Selfishness, pride, a desire to control and have things go the way I think they should go, and having a bit of a tantrum when they don't - these are not the qualities of good fruit, not evidence of a branch connected to the good vine.

Recently Hannah and I have been trying to grow a garden - some flowers, herbs and vegetables. And yesterday, while inspecting some of the plants, we found some brown leaves and shriveled flowers. I'm not sure why... they were attached to the main stalk, which was still green and had other healthy parts. But maybe these were more susceptible to the cooler winds we had this week, or maybe some sort of pest got to enjoy a feast and their expense, or maybe those bits spent too much time in the shade... regardless, Hannah worked, without hesitation, to pull off the dead bits, in order to make room for more growth, more life.

As a branch of the Vine, I do not want to have brown leaves or wilted blossoms or sour fruit. I want, first and foremost, for the Vine to influence who I am and what is produced in me. I need God to prune me - take away the dead bits that are not of him, and give me strength to resist and fight against the things that try to take me away from the Vine. I want him to be able to produce good fruit in me, and I want to live and respond to all things in a way that is glorifying and pleasing to him.

Everett

Mile Log: 525

This morning at Dunkin' Donuts, while enjoying my warm croissant and hot coffee and getting into Brennan Manning's memoir, I met Everett.

I like to casually people-watch when I am out in public alone. So I observed this skinny older man with no teeth and dirty, worn-out clothes order two large coffees - one "doctored up" and the other black with a side of "diabetic sugar," as he called it. When the cashier told him his total was $3, he loudly sighed and commented on its unexpected pricey-ness. The cashier showed him the size of the large coffee cup and asked if he wanted to change his order. He gratefully took her up on this offer and downsized to two smalls.

While his drinks were being prepared, he wandered over to my table and said hello. I looked up, smiled, said hello, and went back to my book. "My name's Everett. Can I buy you a donut?" Again I smiled and said, "Nice to meet you, Everett. I don't need a donut right now, but thank you." Back to my boo- "Are you sure? I'd like to buy you something. You need to eat - you're too little."

That is the third  time this week I've been told how little I am, and I can feel a complex developing. I really just want to read my book, and I don't think I should point out that I just witnessed him spend his last dime on a small coffee. Who was the second coffee for, anyway, and how exactly did he plan to pay for my donut? I held up my wadded wrapper as evidence. "Just had my breakfast, so I'm good."

"Well you know," he continued before I could bury my nose in my book again, "I got a 3.9 GPA at Indiana University. I didn't turn in two papers on time, otherwise I would have had a 4.0. But my brain... you know, they want my brain, cuz I'm really very smart." And what does this have to do with the price of donuts? I smile, nod, and sip my coffee to mask my severe skepticism. "And you know I'm working on a cure for cancer. And I'm close - really close - on the edge of something big. They want to buy my ideas - buy them! You can't buy my brain!"

I wanted to ask who "they" were, but the plots from A Beautiful Mind and  The Soloist were screaming in my head. I wanted to know his story - his real story - but I don't think he would have been able to tell me, if I had asked. It would have been funny if it wasn't so heartbreaking. He went on for a few more minutes about genes and chromosomes and if "they" gave him the chance he could find a cure for me, so I could use my legs again. "But they don't want me to live... but I can't die, because there is too much in my brain that could help people."

I had nothing to say. I finally closed my book and looked - really looked at Everett. This man looked like he was homeless, probably sleeps under the bridge a couple blocks away - the one my friend Ben visits sometimes because he follows Jesus there. Maybe Ben knows Everett. This man most likely has schizophrenia or some other form of mental illness that he no doubt has battled for years. Maybe he has a history of addictions or bad luck or an ugly combination of both. Part of me wanted desperately to just label, stereotype, and dismiss him. It would have been easy, except that he was so human... it would have been so easy, except-

"What's your name, baby girl?" Strictly for the purpose of not being called "baby girl" again, I told him my first name. "Connie, glad to know you," he said, and then became suddenly self-conscious. "Can I- I mean, is it alright if I... shake your hand?" I said yes, and he leaned over my table and gently took one of my hands in both of his for a moment. "Connie, you know you are my friend. You won't forget ol' Everett now, will you?"

I smiled again, this time a little wobbly, trying not to get too emotional. I wondered how many people have shaken his hand, listened to his conspiracy theories, and called him by his name. I don't think I did anything exceptional for him, but I wondered if that is all it takes to become his friend, and how many friends he has. "I won't forget, Everett." We said good-bye and he was gone.

I looked back down at the cover of my book, at the title: All is Grace. I stared and sipped my cold coffee and thought about my new friend, and about grace.  I wonder how Everett would respond to the grace of God... has he already experienced it, or will he soon? What will he be like if it touches him? I thought about how Jesus extended grace to so many people - touching the untouchable, listening to the crazies, speaking with those society would sooner ignore, giving names to the hopeless. I know He reaches anywhere and everywhere to rescue and heal and offer hope and breathe life... he did it for so many in the Bible, he did it for Brennan Manning, he did it for me... and I know he can do it for my new friend, Everett, too.