I’m on the road again, so the next few blogs may come sporadically because I won’t have consistent internet connection or computer. Both of those things are needed to keep this up, so I apologize in advance for any delay in the next couple of days. I’m excited to be at the wedding of a good friend I’ve previously written about, Tommy, and I’ve already met a few of his friends that I’m excited to write about. However, today I read a blog that I just needed to share with you. I haven’t done this in a while, but I do love to repost blogs, especially from current World Racers that are on the field. This is a tough blog to read, but beautifully written.
Do I really have to be Vulnerable?
Each night we go out to bar ministry, I experience something different. And each time it is intense. My learning curve these days is very steep and it is exhausting. Last night we went to a bar and met the girls we were building relationships with. I was talking with one of the women,(we will call her Becca) taking pictures with her, giving her my soda. I got up briefly to say hi to someone else and when I came back my soda and camera were gone. I went over to where Becca was standing drinking my drink and asked about the camera and she said “I dont know” and brushed me away. Now I was getting nervous because I was using a borrowed camera and I had no idea where to look. A few minutes later, another woman at the bar had it and apologized for Becca who had tried to steal it from me. It broke my heart. It just sobered me up and made me feel that even though I am invested in these women, I am just another tourist to them, a means to get money.
Though I was angry and sad, my initial reaction was excitement to see her again so that I could love her more, spend more time with her and show her that I am still here for friendship. That excites me because not too long ago my initial reaction would be to clam up, be pissed off and want to punch her in the face. I was sitting with a friend earlier this morning and she read me this:
Mary’s Prayer
God. O infant-God. Heaven’s fairest child. Conceived by the union of divine grace with our disgrace. Sleep well.
Sleep well. Bask in the coolness of this night bright with diamonds. Sleep well, for the heat of anger simmers nearby. Enjoy the silence of the crib, for the noise of confusion rumbles in Your future. Savor the sweet safety of my arms, for a day is soon coming when I cannot protect You.
Rest well, tiny hands. For though You belong to a king, You will touch no satin, own no gold. You will grasp no pen, guide no brush. No, Your tiny hands are reserved for works more precious:
to touch a leper’s open wound,
to wipe a widow’s weary tear,
to claw the ground of Gethsemane,
Your hands, so tiny, so tender, so white – clutched tonight in an infant’s fist. They aren’t destined to hold a sceptor nor wave from a palace balcony. They are reserved instead for a Roman spike that will staple them to a Roman cross.
Sleep deeply, tiny eyes. Sleep while You can. For soon the blurriness will clear and You will see the mess we have made of Your world.
You will see our nakedness, for we cannot hide.
You will see our selfishness, for we cannot give.
You will see our pain, for we cannot heal.
O eyes that will see hell’s darkest pit and witness her ugly prince…sleep, please sleep; sleep while You can.
Lay still, tiny mouth. Lay still mouth from which eternity will speak.
Tiny tongue that will soon summon the dead,
that will define grace,
that will silence our foolishness.
Rosebud lips – upon which ride a starborn kiss of forgiveness to those who believe You, and of death to those who deny You – lay still.
And tiny feet cupped in the palm of my hand, rest. For many difficult steps lie ahead for You.
Do You taste the dust of the trails You will travel?
Do You feel the cold sea water upon which You will walk?
Do You wrench at the invasion of the nail You will bear?
Do You fear the steep descent down the spiral staircase into Satan’s domain?
Rest, tiny feet. Rest today so that tomorrow You might walk with power. Rest. For millions will follow in Your steps.
And little heart…holy heart…pumping the blood of life through the universe: How many times will we break You?
You’ll be torn by the thorns of our accusations.
You’ll be ravaged by the cancer of our sin.
You’ll be crushed under the weight of Your own sorrow.
And You’ll be pierced by the spear of our rejection.
Yet in that piercing, in that ultimate ripping of muscle and membrane, in that final rush of blood and water, You will find rest. Your hands will be freed, Your eyes will see justice, Your lips will smile, and Your feet will carry You home.
And there You’ll find rest again – this time in the embrace of Your father.
This is Mary’s prayer over Jesus as a baby and it made me cry. Crying has become very important in my life. I used to hate to cry and it still makes me very uncomfortable but I view it very differently now. Now, if I cry, its because something is being released from me like a hurt or God is touching me and changing me in some way. Crying is healing and it is good. When I read this prayer, it just reminded me of how much Jesus was hurt and burned and cheated and yet he remained loving. I sometimes ask, why the heck am I trying so hard to be vulnerable and open when I am just going to get burned eventually? The only answer I have come up with so far is that when my heart is blocked and calloused, I can’t love fully. I can’t be genuine and I end up blocking the bad things out along with the good. So I guess with vulnerability the good times are better and the bad times are worse.
And here are some facts. Not statements to pull at your heartstrings or effect your emotions but facts:
When someone steals your jacket and you come to them offering your shirt as well, lives are changed. When someone steals your bread and you come to them offering your drink as well, hearts are softened. When someone slaps you in the face and you turn to give them a hug, I truly don’t know why or how but I know that peace, freedom and love flows.
