I am in the middle of reading "In My Home There Is No More Sorrow: 10 Days in Rwanda" by Rick Bass.  Last night I read this passage from the book and it floored me.  I knew I would need to come back to it and to reflect on its depth.  I glanced at the page number to commit it to memory... 39.  The number of years I've been alive.  Am I as alive as I could be? Should be?

"There is a spirit moving through Rwanda that is profound and surprising.  It is a spirit of what most people would call love.  I'm not saying that's the whole of it. What I suspect is that there is probably not a word for it - the feeling, the spirit, the phenomenon - and none of us on the outside of it, thank God, will ever quite know what it is; not seventeen years later, and not ever.  I wouldn't, on reflection, trade my numbness for what they have.  Even an arm's length distance might be a little too close. It's kind of terrifying to witness such capacity for strength, for spiritual growth; who among us would not prefer, really, to remain flabby, vague, untested?"

The author, Rick Bass, visited Rwanda for 10 days three years ago and this book is the essay he wrote about his brief but profound experience in a country that has suffered through genocide after genocide after genocide.  The most recent slaughter ended after one million Tutsis were killed by their Hutu countrymen within 100 days' time in 1994.  Bass goes to memorial after memorial on his ten day trek taking in the blood-stained walls of churches, piles of bones and stench of decay. He comes in direct contact with both survivors of the massacre and the perpetrators of it.  The Hutus and the Tutsis now miraculously live as neighbors and countrymen once again; unfathomable forgiveness has come and life goes on, powerfully, and Bass is at a loss.  He would rather embrace his numbness than experience the  profound wholeness and depth of a people who have witnessed/perpetrated/been victimized by such evil and yet have overcome through God's mysterious gift of forgiveness.

I am left to ponder my own numbness.  When have I chosen to keep at arms length that which I cannot understand?  That which I do not want to understand or believe possible.  That which I know would require much more of me than I care to give up in order to obtain it?  

Is numbness better than soaring on the indefinable heights of the ultimate expression of forgiveness all while the images of soul-wrenching evil still burn in memory, tethering us to the earth and its ways?  Is it?

It isn't.  Numbness is not better than the display of His splendor.  Just ask Moses, who boldly asked God, "Please, show me Your glory!" Exodus 33:18.  Just like the surviving and thriving Rwandans today, Moses came down from that mountain after experiencing the glory of God only to have others look away in fear and disbelief.  His face was aglow with something they could not comprehend, something they weren't sure they wanted to comprehend.  It looked painful.  It looked other-worldly.  It was easier to look away and remain numb.  Easier, but not better. In Exodus, we read how God hid Moses in a crack in a rock while His glory passed by, knowing that Moses could only take a small portion of the weight of the immeasurable glory of God and still live.  Is that what we are afraid of?  Is that why we remain numb when we could experience the glory of God?  Do we fear that experiencing something so beautiful and powerful might just kill us?  What a way to go! 


May 2014 be a year of shaking off numbness and fear in all its forms.  Of living life fully, even when it hurts, especially when it hurts.  Of living a life "with such capacity for strength and spiritual growth" that no one can witness it without standing in utter awe of the God who is able to bring terrifying beauty from the likes of evil men all for the display of His life-giving splendor.  Glory to God.

Today I was adding new music to my iPod for my commute to work and I started exploring the songs of JJ Heller.  I'd heard a few, but I wanted to hear more.  

One song in particular struck me immediately.  It is entitled, "Who You Are."  It describes the lives of individuals who are going through trying times; life isn't looking the way they thought it would, and they are in pain.  In their sorrow and confusion, they admit that they don't know what God is doing.  I can still hear the chorus ringing in my ears, "I don't know, I don't know what You're doing.  But I know who You are."

We can get through a lot when we know who we are walking through it with.  When we are sure.  100% certain.  No doubts.  We don't have to know everything in every situation, but we do have to know one thing for sure.  Who is it that walks with me?

The most heart-wrenching time in any relationship comes when one offends the other to the point where the offendee begins to not only take offense at the wrong doing, but to go so far as to question whether or not he really knew this friend in the first place.  This sense of betrayal is a common theme in movies.  We've all heard lines like, "I never even knew you."  or "Who are you, anyway?"   It feeds into our innate fear of trust.  Our fear of giving ourselves completely to another person.  There is always the risk that the wool is being pulled over your eyes, that what you wanted to believe about your friend, or lover, or parent, or mentor isn't actually true.  That's when the walls crumble down around you and the way out seems bleak.

BUT, what if you knew?  What if you never had to wonder?  What if you were absolutely certain that the character & capacity of the one you put your trust in was ROCK SOLID?  How many more confusing times could you make your way through together?  How many perceived offenses could you see past? How much deeper could the water get without you panicking?  How much higher would the mountains be that you could climb with him beside you?  It is almost impossible to fathom, if you have been repeatedly burned in your earthly relationships... that this kind of trust could exist.

When JJ Heller sings, "Who You Are," this is what she is singing about. She is reminding herself and all of us that we can know God.  His character is described vividly and consistently in the Bible and we can count on him to be who He says He is. Every. Single. Time.  

Circumstances will change.

God will not.

*This is cheating, because it is really better when you open your own Bible and pray your very own prayers and let God show Himself to you PERSONALLY, but - if you need a jump-start, a crash course in the character of God - this is a good place to start.

Not one moment that we spend reading the Bible, praying, listening to godly men and women teach and share, acting on what we learn, not one single moment is wasted.  Over time, each of these acts becomes a building block in our relationship with Jesus Christ.  His character IS rock solid.  But in our fallen human state, having encountered unpredictable and untrustworthy people time and time again, we don't come to put our full weight on Him over night.  It comes in time.  It is built by experience.  Give Him a chance.  He will prove to be exactly who He says He is, and that knowledge can make the sun rise after even the darkest of nights.

When I was a very little girl, close to five years old, I experienced what it is like to be drowning. My parents, my Nanny and Pappaw, my brother and I were canoeing down a river in Florida together.  It was a beautiful day and we were having a great time together.  Eventually, my brother and I got into the river and took the seat cushions from one of the canoes and used them as flotation devices and we floated lazily alongside the canoes in the cool water.  It was a perfect summer day.  My brother was a strong swimmer, but I was not.  None of us were concerned about this though because we were staying close together and the water was not very deep.  The events that led up to me gasping for breath are fuzzy in my mind now some 30+ years later, but I do know that one of the canoes tipped over and my grandparents (who did not know how to swim) ended up in the water.  I know that my older brother left me alone to swim over and help them and I let go of my flotation device in the midst of the ensuing chaos.  My Dad jumped out of his canoe to go help my grandparents and in the process, his canoe tipped.  In the craziness of trying to get the canoes righted and the people back in them, I was quietly sinking below the water and bobbing back up with increasing desperation.  I couldn't understand why no one was coming to help me!  It was obvious to me that I was dying, but no one else seemed to notice.  How was that possible?!  

Since then I've learned about something that life guards call, "The Instinctive Drowning Response."  You see, as it  turns out, drowning in real life looks nothing like drowning in the movies or on TV.  Drowning people do not thrash about or yell for help.  They can't.  All of their energy is being expended on getting above the water and catching as much breath as possible before they inevitably sink back beneath the surface.  They can't wave their arms because they are instinctively using their arms to push down on the water's surface in order to leverage their bodies and get their mouths above water. With that being the case, statistics show that half of all children who die each year from drowning do so within 25 yards of a parent or other adult who didn't recognize that they were drowning.

Have you ever felt that way in your day to day life?  Drowning, while no one notices?  Chances are you think it should be obvious.  You can't fathom why no one seems to see that you are living on the brink.  Survival, just making it through the day, is so consuming your thoughts and energy that you can't understand why others don't sense your desperation, despair, constant struggle.  

On that perfect day in Florida, we all got a reality check.  Starting with me.  Once the canoes were back in place and those who were obviously endangered were in the clear, my father came over to me.  In a loud voice he said, "Stand up!"  I could not respond verbally or physically.  I kept sinking below the surface frantically climbing this invisible ladder that would bring me back up just long enough to gasp for air before I went back under.  Finally he grabbed me by my shoulders lifted me slightly and said again, louder and right to my face, "Carla, Stand up!"  With my head now being held above the water by his strong arms, I could respond.  Coughing and sputtering, I extended my legs and to my unfathomable surprise the river bottom was not far below.  I had been drowning in water that only came up to chest.  At any point I could have stretched out my legs, found solid ground and caught my breath, but I didn't know that.  I had no idea that my salvation was that close, that accessible, and my family had no idea that I was in danger.  Frightening, isn't it?

This memory surfaced for me this week while I was watching online as Louie Giglio taught a lesson at the Passion 2013 conference in Atlanta.  He shared two different stories from the Bible where people were healed or brought back to life, but the final step in that restoration process involved them "standing to their feet."  That is a powerful image for me.  Stand up!  Bear your own weight!  You are not a victim, you have what you need to carry on!

If you feel like you are drowning and no one is noticing, rest assured, the Solid Rock is beneath you.  It will require you transferring some of your energy from trying to stay afloat into remembering the One who put breath in your lungs to begin with, and that transfer of thought and energy will feel like a risk - but it is one that will pay off.  In Jeremiah 29:13 (NIV) God says, "You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart."  You will also be required to look at those around you a bit differently.  The answer is, No.  They can't tell that you are in despair, in danger.  It isn't always as obvious as you feel like it is.  People are busy and their thought lives are complicated (they have their own canoes tipping over left and right), that doesn't mean that they wouldn't come and support you while reminding you of the solid ground beneath you if they knew you needed that help.  Find a way to reach out - this too will feel like a risk, but it is one that will eventually pay off.  It helps if you reach out to those who aren't also drowning.  Someone standing on solid ground is much better equipped to help you find your footing than someone who is frantically climbing that invisible ladder too.

If you are one of the ones standing safely on the Rock, don't wait for those around you to completely slip below the surface before you reach out to them.  In real life, people drowning emotionally and spiritually don't look like they are drowning either.  They are often spending so much of their energy just trying to get through the day that they don't ask you for help or even know where to begin to describe the peril they are in.  Just like I didn't, couldn't respond to my Dad's instruction from afar to "Stand Up!" until he gripped me by the shoulders - others will need you to get closer than shouting distance in order to feel safe enough to try the suggestions you have for their relief from suffering.  And you'll need to be close enough to see that they need your help.  "Be devoted to one another in brotherly love.  Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality." - Romans 12:10-13 NIV.


(P.S. - After that day, as a five year old, my parents enrolled me in swimming lessons at a local pool.  I was terrified, but at their insistence I learned to swim - a skill that serves me well to this day.  If you have found yourself emotionally or spiritually drowning at some point don't be satisfied with temporary relief - get involved in a local Bible believing church, seek biblical counseling, make an appointment with a Christian physician, build your support system and gain the tools you need so that the next time the "water feels too deep" you will have what you need to survive and persevere.)

(P.P.S. - The point of this post wasn't really about physical drowning, but since I brought it up, here is a link to help us notice the signs of someone who is in distress in the water.  It is good information for all of us to have!)

"A few months before I was born, my dad met a stranger who was new to our small Tennessee town.  From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer, and soon invited him to live with our family.  The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome me into the world a few months later.  As I grew up I never questioned his place in our family.  In my young mind, each member had a special niche.  My brother, Bill, five years my senior, was my example.  Fran, my younger sister, gave me an opportunity to play 'big brother' and develop the art of teasing.  My parents were complementary instructors - Mom taught me to love the word of God, and Dad taught me to obey it.  But the stranger was our storyteller.  He could weave the most fascinating tales.  Adventures, mysteries and comedies were daily conversations.  He could hold our whole family spell-bound for hours each evening.  If I wanted to know about politics, history or science, he knew it all.  He knew about the past, understood the present, and seemingly could predict the future.  The pictures he could draw were so life like that I would often laugh or cry as I watched.  He was like a friend to the whole family.  He took Dad, Bill and me to our first major league baseball game. He was always encouraging us to see the movies and he even made arrangements to introduce us to several movie stars.  My brother and I were deeply impressed by John Wayne in particular.  The stranger was an incessant talker.  Dad didn't seem to mind, but sometimes Mom would quietly get up while the rest of us were enthralled with one of his stories of faraway places, go to her room, read her Bible and pray.

I wonder now if she ever prayed that the stranger would leave.  You see, my dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions.  But this stranger never felt obligation to honor them.  Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our house - not from us, from our friends, or adults.  Our longtime visitor, however, used occasional four leter words that burned my ears and made Dad squirm.  To my knowledge the stranger was never confronted.  My dad was a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in his home - not even for cooking.  But the stranger felt like we needed exposure and enlightened us to other ways of life.  He offered us beer and other alcoholic beverages often.  He made cigarettes look tasty, cigars manly, and pipes distinguished.  He talked freely (probably much too freely) about sex.  His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.  I know now that my early concepts of the man-woman relationship were influenced by the stranger.  As I look back, I believe it was the grace of God that the stranger did not influence us more.  Time after time he opposed the values of my parents.  Yet he was seldom rebuked and never asked to leave.  More than 30 years have passed since the stranger moved in with the young family on Morningside Drive.  He is not nearly so intriguing to my Dad as he was in those early years.  But if I were to walk into my parents' den today, you would still see him sitting over in a corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures.  His name? We always just called him 'The T.V.'" 
By Keith Currie

I am currently reading the autobiography of Helen Keller.  I am barely 100 pages in and I have already become enthralled with the world and life of this remarkable woman who lost both her hearing and sight at the age of 18 months (due to illness). 

Before language had been fully developed in her mind, she was thrust into a world where her only means of interpreting the stuff of life would be her sense of touch, taste, smell and imagination.  She couldn't see the love in her parents eyes or hear their words of affection.  Their identity in her life became an amalgam of how they smelled, what they did for her and exposed her to, and how they touched her.  She had no way of expressing her needs and wants other than crude pantomime, and she had no way of contemplating anything that wasn't concretely observable through her remaining senses.  Talk about a dark existence.

Enter Ann Sullivan, the woman Helen would come to affectionately call "Teacher."  When Ann first met Helen (almost age 7), she brought her a doll as a gift.  In the days ahead as Ann tried to break through the darkness in Helen's mind by teaching her language by spelling out words in her hand using the manual alphabet, Helen would, understandably, become frustrated and angry.  In one moment of particular frustration, she took out her aggression on the doll: "I became impatient at her repeated attempts and, seizing the new doll, I dashed it upon the floor.  I was keenly delighted when I felt the fragments of the broken doll at my feet.  Neither sorrow nor regret followed my passionate outburst.  I had not loved the doll.  In the still, dark world in which I lived there was no strong sentiment of tenderness.” 

On that same day as God would have it, Helen had a breakthrough.  Ann took her outside to the well on her family's property and poured the cool well water over her cupped hands and then spelled the word W-A-T-E-R into her palm.  "Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten – a thrill of returning thought; and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me.  I knew then that w-a-t-e-r meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand.  That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free!  There were barriers still, it is true, but barriers that could in time be swept away.”


While this story in and of itself is truly amazing and wonderful, it is what happened next in Helen's account that captured my attention even more.  When they came back to the house after her encounter with w-a-t-e-r, this is what she recounts:  "On entering the door, I remembered the doll I had broken.  I felt my way to the hearth and picked up the pieces.  I tried vainly to put them together.  Then my eyes filled with tears, for I realized what I had done, and for the first time I felt repentance and sorrow.”  

How remarkable this is to me!  It wasn't until the light shined into Helen's dark world through the gift of language that she was able to step outside of her own self-centered existence to grieve over the ramifications of her actions.  The doll immediately became, not just "one more thing in a dark world to be touched and examined," but rather "a gift" from someone who cared enough about her to work with her through her frustrations to help her get to a place where the light could shine.

Perspective is a gift.  How many things in our lives do we (literally, or figuratively with our words) "dash upon the floor" in frustration all because we lack the perspective?  

This is how Helen describes the end of that blessed day in her book: "It would have been difficult to find a happier child than I was as I lay in my bed at the close of that eventful day and lived over the joys it had brought me, and for the first time longed for a new day to come.” 

Perspective.  Light.  Grace. Living Water. The Word.  These are the things that brought Helen Keller out of darkness, out of that unfeeling place and into a state of mind that could make a blind and deaf child joyful and thoroughly excited about the days ahead.  Because of the love of God, the best teacher of all, these things still have this power and always will.

The words of Jesus from John 7:38, "He who believes in me, as the Scripture said, 'From his innermost being will flow rivers of living water.'" NASB