I've noticed that when I continue to look downward, I become disoriented . . . sometimes very dizzy when I do attempt to move.
Now, don't think this is heading in that "spiritual direction" necessarily . . . lol . . . I'm not one of those bandwagon collectors of religious pithy sayings that are better left in the BS pile they came out of . . . . not gonna challenge you to "keep your eyes on the sky and keep looking up" as one radio personality used to always throw out . . .
But I am learning something about the surprising nature of grace , its healing work , and how it often appears . . .
If we remember a couple of scenes from the biblical account , it offers some clues . . .
Like, for instance, when that "gardener" approached the woman at Jesus' tomb that morning. She was glued into her emotions . . . her activities that early morning . . . the "story" her life had been enduring. And she had no clue who it was standing next to her . . . "why are you seeking the living among the dead" . . . or in my translation . . . . "pssst, hey . . . got a second . . . I know you think you are bleeding to death right now, but . . . look over here a sec . . . " . . .
Or the two friends on that road to Emmaus . . . pissed off, argueing, depressed , all screwed up . . . Scripture actually says they were downcast . . . eyes, looking downward . . . "Hey, what's up ?? Whatcha talking about?? . . . OH REALLY?? . . . Got a sec . . . let's walk along . . . let me explain and shows you some stuff" . . .
So, I attempt (very feebly at times) to look around me. And , when I least expect it . . . poof there He is.
This recent sighting occurred a couple of Sundays ago. I meet with some friends on Sunday mornings to talk about various spiritual issues and pray for one another, catch up on the happenings of our lives (can you believe some folks don't do the Facebook thing?? Unbelievable . . . lol) , among other things. Well, across the street from where we meet is an assisted living facility that has been the residence of some "interesting" folks over the years. Every once in a while, someone will come over, usually to share in the snacks and refreshments we share together after our meeting. And each one of them, much like us, have some rather "unique" peculiarities and stories that surrond their lives. Take "Toby" for instance. Toby's story had some troubling chapters that involved depression and attempted suicide. He had a difficult time walking and talking but would always tell our teens (and anyone else willing to listen) to "Not do drugs . . . because it made him put a 357 magnum in his mouth" . . . and while it didn't end his life, the damage was irreparable . . . and he was quite the character to say the least. To say these folks are what we'd pass off as "crazy" is really an under and over statement. I have found that they are just like me in sooo many ways. Toby and I would often sit around and spout off Led Zepplin lyrics to each other. He couldn't remember his shoes (btw, anyone seen my sneakers?? ) but he could remember a song . . .
But this Sunday . . . something else was up beyond the usual . . . I was pontificating about some minute point that I felt God wanted me to make, when all of a sudden this lady walks in the back door of our room. Which isn't a big deal because we are so laid back that folks are often coming and going (mostly going these days ;p) . . . but in she walks and begins to look for a place to sit down. Now this particular week, I had arranged the chairs in a large semi circle so we were all pretty much facing each other. When you do that, the back seats fill up real fast . . . my friends get very uncomfortable when other people looking at them that they try to put more distance to themselves. So, not finding any seats open in the "back" of the room, she continues to navigate herself to the front. Now things get pretty distracting because she doesn't look like us at all . For one thing, we are a bunch of white folks and she is of a darker color scheme . . . then there is the dress . We tend to dress pretty relaxed and comfortable when we get together , but she was redefining this protocol. she had, probably (and I'm more than likely understating this) 35-40 little stuff animals pinned to her dress . . . from her neck to her ankles. And here she is clinking and clunking her way up to the 2nd to the front row of this circle of people. In my head, voices are saying things like "AGAIN??? What the heck am I supposed to do now? . . . Keep pressing on brother . . . lay out that Truth for the kingdom . . . Is she going to come all the way up by me??" It was hilarious although none of us chuckled . . . awkward although most pretended not to stare, etc. She sat there and looked at me as if to say "yeah?? you got something to say to me?"
Well, I really can't recall what all was going on except that I was dying on the inside while watching her from the corner of my eye . . . she dumps everything out of her purse and starts rummaging through it . . . like she's looking for that button that will win her a price on "Let's Make A Deal", etc.
But I've learned that in the things that are most distracting . . . most awkward . . . most unacceptable . . . most unlike me . . . there is a Presence far grander than my pain . I'm learning to take notice . . .
So, as our group time drew to a close . . . I offered a word of blessing and prayer, then we all headed for some refreshments. And the "teddy bear gal" was right in there with all of us. Some of us cringed at the moment she dishes out her goodies. Other's do there best to connect with her, asking her name . . . how she is doing today . . . can they help her. In one moment, the one that took my breath away that morning, a man stepped toward her and offered his hand and some words of welcome and connection. I almost broke down in tears, for indeed she was welcome in our midst. So much has changed in these places for me. The pressure from others as well as internally from my own woundedness has been slowly eroding away. And in its place is an unspeakable joy that continues to emerge. It has always been there . . . like when Ke' (another resident who was from Vietnam and spoke no English) made his way forward to our "altar" in the midst of me teaching on Romans. Ke' humbled himelf in prayer to Someone , and then maybe 5-10 minutes later, got up and returned to his seat. Or when one gal, screamed out at the conclusion of our "service" -- "THREE CHEERS FOR PASTOR PAT . . . HIP, HIP , HOORAY . . . HIP , HIP, HOORAY . . . HIP, HIP, HOORAY" . . . .
I thought for a moment that I was actually hearing the Trinity's glee over my being . . .
Yeah, these "glimpses" have become such intimate whispers of healing that I'm embarrassed to even share. Simply am hoping to encourage maybe another lost pilgrim, that in the moments of their total hurt, isolation and hardships . . . He is still there. Most often, in images and moments that you may not even notice unless you raise your gaze for a moment . . .
"PSSST . . . HEY . . . OVER HERE . . . "
To emphasize the point even further . . . as some of us are coming back into our meeting area, and she has left the building with her snacks piled in her arms . . . we notice something even more amazing . . . the "pile" that she had left on the seat next to her . . . . well, it's still there . . . . and its not exactly a "pile" . . . nope . . . it was actually . . . her offering . . .
She had dumped out a couple of $1 bills and a pile of change and had left it there . . . her "widow's mite" if you will . . .
As I walked over to gather the offering together . . . I was about to burst into tears . . . I felt like I was in the "Holy of Holies" (to reference some Old Testament language and imagery) . . . indeed . . . in the midst of all of us . . . someone had given all . . . ALL . . . and she gave it to us . . . to help, to share , to whatever . . . no fan-fare . . . no demand that we minister to her needs or not offend or not hurt her feelings . . . no . . . just dumped her stuff and walked away . . .
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