"For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the LOVE of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."-Romans 8:38-39
I sit pen in hand, a mad dash of words spilled upon paper, desperate to capture in a single moment the very emotions of this past month, a month of such sweet beauty and such sweet wreckage. I’ve gone down this path before, I’ve prayed this prayer once, and my heart felt so intensely the heart of the Father.
It was amidst the chaos of a packed Indian street, I remember my chest convulsing with the all too real pain of the moment I was in, at finally getting a sweet glimpse at the Father’s love. And it changed me. It revelountized my heart and set it a blaze for His Kingdom, forever changing this woman and undoubtably my time on the field.
And it happened again this month. With closed eyes I dared to venture out again, to pray that mighty and all too bold prayer, “Lord, break my heart for the things that break yours. Let me see as you see. And let me love as you love.” Those words will forever haunt me in an ever sweet and beautiful sense, a stirring of my soul that unfolded in a matter of three short weeks in the heart of Bar Street in Chiang Mai, Thailand.
Fresh from the red dirt roads of Africa, I found myself sitting under the thick backdrop of bright neon flour cent lights, the rattling of beer bottles clinking in my ears. I sat diet coke in hand, soaking up the scene unfolding before me, a lump forming in my throat as a vile sickness grew in the pit of my stomach. Even as I lay wide-awake at night trying hard to rattle off the mad images that danced wildly in my hand, I couldn’t escape the harsh reality of what I was now sitting in. A montage of men that reviled my father both in age and appearance sat, left hand swollen around a band of thick gold, sliding and caressing the small body of a young Thai girl, her giggles masking her pain. Brokenness abounded and every avenue I turned lay hidden story after endless story of brokenness, from the western traveler to the short skirt wearing bar girl, there was a tail of pain to be told.
A weeping from deep within cries out from my soul. From the back of red roofed Song Tow, to the tears that fell on my pillow at night, my soul struggled with the all too heavy bearings of this month. I couldn’t swim amongst the violent undercurrents of thoughts that ran rampid through my head, the helpless desperation that swelled inside of me. I needed answers to the thoughts that plagued me, the questions that formed in an instant. Why? How? From deep within the floodgates of my soul open up and I cry out the growling heart song for love. LOVE. Unending, unfailing love.
The holy burden continues, washing over me each and every morning. With each inhale comes the exhale for the Father to shower down His love for these women, these men, THIS TIME. The warrior within me grows strong and steady, my knees breaking much to the same tune as my heart. Failing in my fight for understanding, the prayers begin from the core of my heart, my inner most echoed out. I fight, in the battle for His love, begging Him to pour it out. For it not to simply sprinkle but instead pour out like a violent thunder storm thrashing upon the streets of Chiang Mai, His wind and His mercy echoing throughout. Beneath closed eyes, I hear the whispers of a savored worship song, “Beneath the weight of his wind and mercy…” and I’m captivated once again. My heart stolen for His love and I can’t get enough, I find my thirst for it almost unquenchable.
Sand slipping through the hourglass, I find the longer I cling to the wreckage of this past month, the great the restless spreads. The battle for release does not equate the end of the war. I place it in His hands, with each painful stirring of my emotions that surface from within, and I find I cannot give up. I cannot forget. Each day a wild attempt to hold tight to faces, voices and heart I grew to love so much. I cannot give up. I will not give up. As I write these very words, ink spilled to paper, cramped hand from the rapid speed of my thoughts poured forth, a peace washes over me, knowing they are in the Father’s hand. He is their defender, and their victor. His love covers every depth.
"For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the LOVE of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."-Romans 8:38-39
(Photos taken with permission from Jessica Gaperin)
