My personal space has been drastically challenged this month. There is always somebody hanging on my waist, holding my hand, playing with my hair, laying in my lap, you name it. I’ve just gotten comfortable in my hammock and cracked open a book when, “Caro!” I hear a little voice and a head peeps in my hammock wanting to join me. I think I’ve torn about a third of the pages out of my notebook to give to kids who want to sit and draw while I journal. I must admit; I struggle with the lack of “alone time” I’m able to have. Alone is a foreign word here, and much of my quiet time is spent looking up every few moments to receive a flower or to comment on a drawing. As hard as this lack of space is for me, it is a valuable lesson. So often I struggle with being interruptible, my mind always set on what’s coming next. Even before I start a task, I’m already thinking of the ten other things I have to do afterward. Brené Brown writes;
For me, and for many, our first waking thought of the day is “I didn’t get enough sleep”. The next one is “I don’t have enough time”. Whether that’s true or not, the thought of not enough occurs to us automatically before we even think to question or examine it. Before we even sit up in bed, before our feet touch the floor, we’re already inadequate, already behind, already losing, already lacking something (Daring Greatly).
Man, how true that is in my life! Before I even start the day, I seem to be plagued with things that need to be done. I bounce from task to task, rarely stopping to enjoy a moment or to sit with a friend who needs a listening ear. In Mark 10 there is a story of Jesus stopping to heal a blind man outside of Jericho. The man, Bartimaeus, is sitting by the roadside when Jesus and his followers pass by; he shouts “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me!” Many of the followers shoo him away telling him to be quiet but the scriptures say that he shouted even louder. Jesus sees Bartimaeus and stops, asking him what he wants. Bartimaeus replies “Rabbi, I want to see” to which Jesus says “Go, your faith has healed you.” Jesus stops. He is interruptible. In his book Stranger God, Richard Beck writes;
“Seeing each other requires that we are interruptible, seeing requires stopping. Interruptibility is the practice of making room in time, finding time for others in the midst of our busy day. That’s the inhospitality of hurry, there is no room for you in my busy day.”
I have been learning this trip that Jesus comes to us in strangers. He comes to us in people we’d least expect Him to. He comes to me in the coffee lady, and in all the kids that are here at New Hope. Am I interruptible enough to stop and see Him? In the story of the good Samaritan, we typically see Jesus in the Samaritan, but recently I’ve been challenged to consider Jesus as the hurting man on the road. Will I stop to help a stranger, and see Jesus in his face? Stopping requires discipline, because it’s often inconvenient. But it’s a discipline that allows Jesus to come to us in disguise.
As I think about how this translates at home I am challenged even further by Beck’s words “most of us are Jesus hobbyists. We pursue our hobbies when we have time and that’s how we treat Jesus. We follow Jesus after all the other things have been checked off the to-do list. We follow Jesus when we’re available, and that makes us Jesus hobbyists” (Stranger God). So often I don’t stop to help, so often I feel pressed for time and simply walk right past someone that God is asking me to sit with. We show Christ’s love for us in how we love others. Interruptibility has become such a natural part of life here, so how does that carry back to school when the business sets in? I pray that the Lord keeps prompting my heart to stop and see, to be present in the moments He has placed me in. Whether that is in Siem Reap, Cambodia, or Nampa, Idaho the fact remains; Jesus comes to me in strangers. Will I choose to stop and see Him?
