Close Enough to Become Infected

I had been waiting to see the hairdresser for months. I had been recovering from neck surgery and the ability to lay back in a sink was completely out of the question. In the meantime, the gray hair that I had so covertly managed to conceal was beginning to come to light. I had also just received the news that I was going to become a grandmother and its uprising was really detrimental to my overall emotional health. That was it, pain or no pain, I called my hairdresser. “Liz, it’s a 911, I need bleach as soon as possible”. Unfortunately, she could not get me an appointment for two more weeks.

The day finally arrived. I was ready to rid myself of my obvious aging and in turn feel like a brand new younger, woman. I sang a happy tune as I drove to the salon, “Were not gonna take it, No, Were not gonna take it…Were not going take (gray hair) anymore.” Yes, I was rebelling against the gray, against my age, against being called “Granny”. I was going to end this little charade, TODAY!
My happy tune was being quietly sung in my head as she mixed the beautiful horrid smelling solution. She began by parting my hair on the left side and lifting the solution toward the row of gray, I smiled from ear to ear. Suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks and laid down the magical brush. I looked at her eyes that appeared to become hard focused on my scalp.
“What’s wrong”, I asked.
“Hold on a minute, don’t freak out just yet, but…”,she began to reply.
“I know it is a lot of gray, but my goodness it’s not that bad, is it”, I asked sheepishly.
“Oh goodness, Heidi, I don’t know how to tell you this”.
“Tell me what”, I interrupted.
“You got lice”, she stated with a sympathetic tone.
“I got WHAT” I said, jumping out of the chair.
“You got”, she started.
“LICE”, I stated more as a question than an answer. “How in the world did I get lice?”
“Heidi, you minister in the Children’s Church and the prison.” “One of the kids or the women must have had it.” “Unfortunately, now you got it too.” “You are always hugging everyone”. “How many of the women at the prison are crying on your shoulder”? “How many of the kids always sit on your lap during service”, She went on trying to make me feel better. None of her efforts seemed to help me stop from freaking out. I got up from the chair grabbed my purse.
“Just wash tonight with the medicated shampoo and come back tomorrow”, she offered.
“Yeah, I’ll be back”. I walked out and sat in my car and cried.

Everything in my life lately seems to be falling apart. If I began to tell you the things that have been happening to me on a daily basis it would blow your mind. In fact, I am sure if we were all on a boat, someone would have thrown me overboard by now. More embarrassing was the phone calls that I needed to make when I returned home. I had to call all of the parents at the church and tell them that I had lice and they needed to check their children.
Yet, as in all the joys and sorrows and disgusting experiences we go through, God has taught me a powerful lesson.

As embarrassing as the situation may have been, as angry as I may have become because my plans were ruined, God was smiling down on me. Not laughing at me, but smiling at me. Did you ever have the pleasure of knowing you were in a place where God was smiling down on you? As I sat there huffing and puffing in my car, (scratching my head) I felt the presence of God. What an unusual thing to happen in such a minor situation. I mean it is not like earlier in the week when the cardiologist told me that there was something wrong with my daughter’s heart or the gang war broke out at her school and she’d been in the middle of it. No, I found the peace of God surrounding me now, in this place, with this problem.
I heard God speaking above my outrageous self-pity bantering. “You resemble my love”. I heard Him speak.
I stopped complaining now to tune in to the Holy Spirit. How in the world could I resemble Your love in this mood, are You kidding?
“You allow yourself close enough to become infected”.

I closed my eyes and basked in the brief moment that I felt “hugged by God”. It was a beautiful place that I never wanted to depart from. But I knew I could not stay…For I… had hair to wash:)

So often our relationship within the church becomes sterile. Recently, I had witnessed more love among friends in a bar then in the walls of the church. Now, before you all go jumping into the judge’s chambers allow me to explain that I was attending a dinner party for a close relative’s birthday. The conversations that took place among the relative and his friends caused me great pain. At the time, I did not understand what it was I was longing for. It was not the drinks that they shared but something else that seemed to be greatly lacking in my life. True relationships.

The dinner conversation was full of compassion for one another, concern for their personal dilemmas and appreciation for their friendship. It was genuine. It was not obligatory conversation, it was not superficial conversation…it was just true conversation. I began to question the relationships I had with the people that I had been partnering with in ministry for the past ten years. We are close, but not close enough to become infected. I mean we talk, if it involves the ministry, but we don’t get close enough to be fully affected by each other’s lives. We don’t know what the other is going through because it is not spoken of, we don’t care enough to question because we don’t have the time to be bothered. Our relationships are for show, they are required, they are what we “are supposed to do”.

I, however, am not satisfied with the placebo relationships I find myself in….I want more than a substitute…I want the real deal. I don’t want to sugarcoat my life with what is appeasing to anyone. I just want to be me, without the fear of judgment or rejection.
The genuine relationships I do find are not with those I minister with but those I minister to.

I can be real with those I am ministering too. They are void of hypocrisy, they love me for my love of God, they care about my struggles, they pray for my pain…they have not yet been religionized. This is why I felt God smiling down on my that day, I was willing to lend a shoulder to a crying inmate. I was willing to hold the child who comes to church unshowered with matted hair and dirty clothes. I was not afraid to hold the hands of those dying from aids and wipe the sweat from their faces with the sleeve of my shirt. I was close to them, close enough to become infected by their diseases. I was close enough to be moved to pray on behalf of their needs. I was in love with them and their desires to be close to the one I loved. This is what makes God smile. When we are willing to lay down our lives for one another, set aside our comfort, safety, our cleanliness in order to meet the needs of His children. This is the place he has called us to walk. But not just with those who are lost, it is time that the church comes together and is willing to become infected by the lives of those who walk with them.

Toll Road

Having spent most of my life geographically sheltered...I find that at 37 years old I am somewhat directional dyslexic. You see I discovered this truth about myself last week as I was attempting to get home from the Doctor's office. The same doctor's office that I have been traveling to and from for the past 7 years.

It was getting late, we had been at the doctors office this day longer than expected. Jordan had to get to her dance practice and time was of the essence. So I decided that I would take a "short cut". Now that I am all grown up and everything in terms of highway driving, I decided that the fastest way home was the highway. I could jump on the highway and be home five minutes faster.

I have two choices, East or West...hmmmm....they both sounded so good. I chose East. A few minutes into the drive I realized that the exit I probably wanted to take was flashing past the passenger window. "Just play it cool", I told myself. Don't let Jordan know that I missed our exit. I would just get off at the next exit and act as if nothing was wrong. As I pull onto the off ramp I notice a sign, TOLL ROAD. "Oh, this is not going to be good". I pull up to the ticket both, still playing it cool, I take out a ticket as if this what I meant to do.
Jordan finally notices that something is seriously wrong. "Mom, where are we going".
"Home", I reassured her.
"Uhh, I don't ever remember us having to get a ticket", she says.
"That's because we are taking a different route", I said defending my lie.
"Mom, we are lost aren't we", she stated matter-of-factly.
"Okay, yes I got off at the wrong exit", I answered as I took the ramp towards Scranton. (Which I learned shortly was the second mistake).
"Just do me a favor plug in that GPS and type in our address I have to see where the next exit is."
Jordan finishes plugging in our address and finally the robotic voice comes to life..."Proceed 16 miles".
Oh, Lord. This was going to be a long ride. We traveled up and down the mountains and at one point even through a mountain; twice. My daughter sat laughing in tears while I fumed the highways. I just wanted to get home.

Two more wrong turns and two tolls (totaling $3.75) later, what should have taken me ten minutes ended up taking me one hour and forty-five minutes to accomplish.
As I look back, all I could think of was, thank God I had a GPS, a few dollar bills and a full tank of gas or this could have ended much differently.

You know that day I was so frustrated with myself. All the years I have been driving in the same city and I still get lost all the time. (Which is why my husband bought me the GPS in the first place). I hate that feeling of driving down the highway and everything looks strange, exit signs for towns I have never heard of, all while driving at a high rate of speed. I always give way to panic when I am in this place. I just wanted to get home and without the aid of that GPS I would never have found my way there. I was also disturbed by this encounter as I realized that driving is not the only place that leaves me feeling lost, unsure and panicked. I have also been feeling this way spiritually.

I try to act as if I know my way home with God. At times I can be confident of his call and his leading. I will jump onto the highway and go without forethought. Sometime later, I find myself lost on a highway unsure of which direction I am facing. It is always at times like now, when I have so many distractions in my life. I don't have time to plug in the GPS, I don't have time to listen for the leading and direction of the Holy Spirit. I take a wrong turn on my own hunch, in the hopes that the right exit will be just ahead. Then I am suprised when that decision takes me even further away from home then I expected. I feel panicked, I hate being lost, I just want to get home.

The wrong turn for me is usually when I get so caught up in the work of God that I don't take time for a relationship with God. I get so busy traveling down the road of ministry...65 mph, low on gas, bright orange warning signs a blur in my rear view mirrors and no money to pay the tolls that will be required as a result of my error. Eventually, I reach a dead end, run out of gas or spend everything I have left. Then and only then do I know what I need to do.
I plug back into the voice of the one who can lead me. I allow the tolls to serve as a reminder for my waywardness. I make sure that I am fueled by the power of the Holy Spirit and not myself. I do want to get home one day but not because I am a good driver but because I get navigate His direction well.

Just Keep Walking

John 5:6 "Do you want to get well?"

I woke up drugged and confused following my surgery where they used a piece of bone from my hip to fuse the bone in my neck. The only thing on my mind...I was thirsty. What did I have to do to get something to drink around here, anyway? Finally, the nurse came in and brought me a tall glass of ice cold water. It was the most refreshing water I had ever tasted. Drinking it down like a camel in the desert who just happened upon an oasis...I felt refreshed. Now I was ready to enter into my drug induced coma and sleep until my discharge tomorrow. The nurse came back into my room, startling me from my daze. She was on a mission. "Let's go, it is time for you to get out of bed. You need to walk", she instructed. "No, no, no. Sleep. I just want to sleep." I pouted like a small child on a school morning. "Well", she said, "do you want to get well". "I feel great", I assured her as I slowly began the slow process of trying to sit up. Grabbing my arms she lifted me to a seated position. Gently she coached me, "okay, now on the count of three I am going to help you stand". I rolled my eyes as she counted and then the lift. As the pressure of my weight fell onto my hip I let out a shout of agony. The morphine was a long lost friend, the reality of my condition was as clear as day. "I can't do it", I cried. "Yes you can, if you want to heal you gotta walk", she insisted. I tried taking a small step and collapsed into her arms. "It's okay", she encouraged, "I got you and I will not let you fall". I took another step, and fell again. It took me 5 minutes to reach the bathroom that was just a few steps from my bed...ten minutes round trip. The doctor came in later to inform me that first thing in the morning the physical therapist would be in to teach me how to get out of bed on my own and how to walk up the stairs unassisted. I, of course, asked if drugs would be invovled. He assured me there would be and that I could not leave the hospital until I could walk on my own. You know that, that was the only convincing I needed. I was determined to scale those steps and be done with this place. Secrectly, I knew that I would receive more sympathy at home. My family would not be so cruel as to make me get up and walk around while I was in pain. They would be willing to cater to my every demand. So through the pain and agony I walked and much to my relief, I was finally able to leave that place behind. The doctor, it turns out, was right. The more I walked, the better my leg healed. And that family I thought would enable my disability, well, they made me walk too. I walked with a cane for awhile. Now I walk with a slight limp. There is still much pain 2 months later but everyday it gets a little easier.

As I write this story I can't help but think of the story of the man outside the Sheep Gate who laid by the pool called Bethesda. He laid there for 38 years claiming he could not get well because everyone beat him to the pool. Jesus approaches him and says "Do you want to get well"? After the man gives a list of excuses for not getting well. Jesus responds with, "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk."

So many times we find excuses for lying in pity. We even use our weaknesses to summon sympathatic listens willing to enable our dysfunction. But the time has got to come for us to Get Up....Take up that Mat...and Walk. How long will we lay in our excuses...38 years?

Getting up will require us to take a stand against our fears, our worries, our past pains, our insecurites and every one who says we should stay down.
Picking up our mat is also necessary, it says that we refuse to run back to this comfortable place no matter how hard it is to walk.
Walking...ahhh...I can tell you that this is the hardest part. Many times we stand, we hold our mat but we never leave that place behind. You have to walk....walk until you find the strength to run. Don't look back. Don't worry if you fall just get back up and walk.

The physical pain I experienced after my surgery was nothing compared to some of the places that God has called me to walk through. In the past year I have walked through so many trials with much fear. I wanted at times to run back to the places that had been comfortable, revert to the external pleasures that could bring me some peace, if only temporary. I wanted to lay by the pool and someone to come along and carry me to the water so I could find the strength to walk. Forget this walk with God it is just too hard. I stopped working on my ministry credentials and was ready to quit altogether. I was even tempted to throw out the manuscript of the book I spent a year writing before it even gets published. I was tired and in great pain. Yet, through it all I can hear the voice of the Holy Spirit. "You will never leave this place unless you get out of bed and walk". "Just Keep Walking". Everyday, as I continue to walk through the pain of my circumstances, with all of my life falling down around me, I walk on and with each step it gets a little easier. The great thing about walking with God through it all is that I never have to fear that the pain will be to much because I know that if I get weary...He will be there to catch me. "Don't worry, I got you and I will not let you fall."