It’s the word that’s been on my heart for five days. It’s the name I have called myself in the car as I sob on the side of the road uncontrollably. It’s the truth.
My post last week exposed the pain of my broken heart. I thought It was the last bit of ugliness I would have to share with you before the race. The last little bit of crazy for my squad to judge me by.
Until Friday.
Friday it became clear… at my ugliest, I am nothing more than a hypocrite.
I’m preparing to leave on a World Race to share the gospel to the nations. Once there, I will tell people of His great love, of the redemption and healing to His children. Proclaiming, and believing, that if necessary I am willing to go and die for Him…
But if I’m honest, that's not true.
It’s not true because a half-truth is still a lie. How can I be so willing to go and serve those in other countries and neglect the ones I love? How is it that the boldness of Christ’s love I proclaim in broken Spanish, I mumble ((and even at times apologize for)) to the hurting and lost here in the States?
Friday, I lost someone I have loved for six years. Someone that challenged and inspired me to write better, read more, travel, and like red wine. Someone I lied to for six years.
For six years I relied upon the mantra, “share the gospel always, use words only when necessary.” I apologized for all the times a Christian had wronged him, I skirted around the gospel. I don’t know that I ever once said the name, “Jesus” to him. I was afraid to offend him, to loose his friendship, so I said nothing. Always expecting there would be a time and a place for that conversation. But that time didn’t come. I remained silent while someone I loved searched for peace.
The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18)
I don’t feel His peace.
I feel tested. I feel forsaken. I feel alone. I feel spent. I feel like it was all for nothing.
I feel abandoned.
I feel guilty.
I feel unworthy.
In 2009 Richard invited me to go to Africa with him to film a documentary. I was reminded of this dream of his this morning while reading old letters.
We had no money, no plan, we didn’t know what organization we would want to support…or even own a camera. But that didn’t stop us from spending entire summer days planning our adventure. Richard’s only requirement was that we “did good”.
At the time, it wasn’t right.
In September, my route on the World Race will take me to three countries in Africa. I will take Richard with me.
Today, that is all that is helping me breathe…
my heart)
