It wasn’t depression I felt this month, but rather my heart breaking and hurting in a way I’ve never experienced before.
As we were leaving Nepal to head into month six in Vietnam, Papa gave me two words for this month, simply “Come away”. As we got to Ho Chi Minh City I wanted nothing more than to get out of the capital. The exact words I used were, “I want to see mountains Gandalf, mountains.” I didn’t know that the mountains I was so desperate to see was going to actually be an island. We were in the capital for five days, and on December 3rd I woke up to the news that broke my heart. I live in a small-ish city in Southern California called Yucaipa, and on December 2nd there was a shooting in San Bernardino, about 20 minutes from where I live, 14 were killed and 22 injured. Part of me has reservations about writing this, but part of me feels like I should because even though I am on a different continent, my heart hurt along with my home community as this act was carried out.
Again Come Away.
It didn’t make sense and honestly it was the last thing I wanted to do. No, truthfully I didn’t want to go to the island of Phu Quoc (on the border of Vietnam and Cambodia), if anything this month I felt the desire to return so strongly. To go back to my small-ish city in So-Cal, and be with my family and loved ones, to know that they were safe, as if me being home would secure their safety.
I can’t make sense of what happened, and I don’t know if anyone ever will, but I can let you in on what Papa did make sense of for me.
I read ( almost finished that is) The Shack by Wm. Paul Young this month, and there were multiple times when Papa was speaking to me as if I was Mackenzie Phillips. I don’t want to give away the story but one conversation between Mack and God (aka Papa, aka a large African American woman) really hit me.
“How can you really know how I feel?” Mack asked, looking back into her eyes.
Papa didn’t answer, only looked down at their hands. His gaze followed hers and for the first time Mack noticed the scars on her wrists, like those he now assumed Jesus also had on his. She allowed him to tenderly touch the scars, outlines of a deep piercing, and he finally looked up into her eyes. Tears were slowly making their way down her face, little pathways through the flour that dusted her cheeks.
“Don’t ever think that what my Son chose to do didn’t cost us dearly. Love always leaves a significant mark,” she stated softly and gently. “We were there together.”
Want to know what I think about whenever we talk about the crucifixion?? Yes I think about Jesus and what the act of him dying meant for us, but I also think about the Father, his Father, his Papa. Obviously God knew what he was doing, as did Jesus when he spoke about his death and resurrection to his disciples ( Matt. 16:21 and John 11:13 for a few references). And even in the final moments of the Christ’s life, Papa let it happen, knowing that all along not only would his son suffer, but he would share in that pain. We can talk about “bone of my bone” and “flesh of my flesh”, but what of the begotten?? “The Son of I Am”. Our God is the creator of emotions, and he in turn is emotional (love, generosity, anger, passion, compassion, jealousy , etc.). Just as it hurt Mary to watch her boy strung up on a tree, so it hurt Papa to let his only son die for us. And in this pain, his heart hurts just as ours do. This small piece of truth is what I got this month, to all my questions, all I got was that I (we) did not (are not) hurting alone in this.
That is what this island has been for me. Papa asking me daily to come away . To come away with him in my hurting and to let him be enough for me, to not receive answers, but to simply receive him and to be with him. I and we are not alone in this.
This month I am so beyond thankful for my team, I am so thankful for them giving me space to be alone, and then in the times when I needed to not be alone, for them looking out for me. I thankful for them letting me cry and praying not only for myself but for my community and the families constantly.
