I didn't start this blog as a means to make money, or have tons of followers, or even to be widely read. I started this blog to be an honest voice. Mostly to myself, and to whomever else happens to stop by and listen. I am an introvert, if you hadn't already guessed. And most often I am more honest in writing than I can be in person.
And today is an honest day.
The past three days have been sad ones. Monday I had the opportunity to serve at Lydia Home here in Chicago (just a few miles from where I live). I went with some ladies in my Moms group to help sort presents for the kids they serve. As I was sorting out the presents for the kids in residence, the foster kids, and the single moms with kids, my heart was breaking for them. It was breaking that these kids were born into broken homes, a broken life, a they now have to pick up the pieces of their parent's mistakes. And here I am, born into privilege Always knowing there will be a next meal, new clothes when mine become unwearable, and presents that don't come from an anonymous donor, but from parents and family that cherishes me. I didn't have a choice in the matter of what kind of situation I would be born into. But now the least we can do is open our door for one of these fatherless children who didn't have a say in the matter either.
One of our Gospel Community members (our church's term for small group) just had a friend pass away suddenly and unexpectedly. She left behind a husband and a baby girl who just celebrated her first birthday. We spent the evening last night as a group praying for her family, and comforting our friends who are hurting and grieving her loss. Carrying each others burdens is no easy task. But that is what Jesus calls us to do. So we cried with them. Prayed with them. Gave them the space to be and grieve and remember.
This morning I finally heard back from a friend that I have been missing and have not heard from in a while (despite many attempts at my end). She told me today that she has just suffered a miscarriage, and that she is in a living hell right now. My heart is broken for her. And I pray that she finds life and truth and the only true comfort there is, in Jesus's open arms. I pray that she chooses to run into them.
As I sit here crying, and trying to make sense of how frail our humanity is, I am just so thankful that our God is BIGGER. That HE is LIFE. And that apart from Him, we are nothing. We have nothing. We are DUST. But in Christ, through His death and Resurrection, we have LIFE. And He is our only purpose.
And I wonder why we have to go through all of this pain here on earth. Why do we have to go through the pain and grief of friends and loved ones dying? Of babies leaving the earth before they've even had the chance to live? Losing our sisters, brothers, parents, spouses, children and friends to death. Why do our hearts have to break all the time?
And then I remember that it's because of ALL of this - because of our messed up, broken, hurting and lost world and humanity, that God sent His only Son into this world as a little human baby. A baby - who God had to watch live as a human being. A human being who hurts and has his heart broken again and again. A human being who is bullied and not respected. Who is so loving, but is continually shunned. Who loses his dear friend Lazarus to death, and grieves his loss. And then God watches His only human Son die on a cross, die a murderers death, an excruciatingly painful and humiliating death, just to fulfill God's promise and save all of us broken, hurting, unlovable people.
How great and deep is the Father's love for us.
I am also thankful that God is a God of joy. Because there has been a lot of it today, even in the shadow of all the loss around me. There is joy in waking up healthy, grilled cheese sandwiches dipped in ketchup, sunshine and a baby learning to stand on her own, discovering that the toilet paper has been dragged throughout the entire house by a giggling girl (without breaking! this is why I buy 3-ply), reading books together, a bright blue sky, and the anticipation of Christmas. A borrowed pen and new ink from a friend to try out, inspiration for my next drawing, and the joy of knowing that my life has purpose. Not in things, or in a self imposed identity, but in simply loving Jesus and following Him.
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