JUICY FRUITY LOVE: Juicy Fruit of the Spirit - Part 2 - January 12, 2008

“If I know what love is, it is because of you.”
Herman Hesse

Since the beginning of time, human beings have puzzled about, agonized over, sought after, shied away from, and bask in the light of love. It’s one of those things that are difficult to define—although everyone from Charlie Brown to Gandhi have tried—but you know it when you see it.
Or maybe I should say, you know it when you feel it. In Story of My Life, Helen Keller wrote:

Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog, when it seemed as if a tangible white darkness shut you in and the great ship, tense and anxious, groped her way toward the shore with plummet and sounding-line, and you waited with beating heart for something to happen? I was like that ship before my education began, only I was without compass or sounding line, and no way of knowing how near the harbor was. "Light! Give me light!" was the wordless cry of my soul, and the light of love shone on me in that very hour.

We have all had our “at sea in a dense fog” experiences; times when it feels like we are groping along without plummet and sounding-line.

Years ago, when I was still a fairly new and inexperienced driver, I was driving home alone from my counseling job at Northern Michigan University, to K.I. Sawyer Air Force Base, in a white-out. I was terrified! It was pitch black and my headlights illuminated the blizzard of snowflakes that the wind was driving relentlessly at my windshield. My eyes struggled in vain to focus past the snow. I was lost in a shaken up snow globe with no sense of direction.

Having grown up in New York and Indiana, I thought I knew snow, but life in northern Michigan introduced me to the profound power and danger of all those delicate, beautiful, tiny little flakes in cahoots with each other and with the wind. This, of course, was before the days of cell phones, GPS devices, and OnStar. It was just me and God and a gazillion capricious snowflakes. The sense of aloneness was overwhelming. And, believe you me, I was prayin’ up a storm (pun intended)! How my tires remained on the roadway, God only knows.

For Helen Keller, Anne Sullivan’s determination to reach through Helen’s blindness and deafness was the beacon of love responding to “the wordless cry of my soul.” The beacon of love that led me safely home that wintry evening was God. Sometimes LOVE reaches out to us through other people; and sometimes LOVE enters our terror directly and steers us home.

What fog or white-out are you lost in right now? Perhaps you are in the midst of a stormy relationship, or negotiating blindly through divorce, or feeling deluged by a diagnosis of cancer. Maybe you have been blindsided by the death of a loved one or the loss of a job. Or maybe your heart is being tugged in two directions and you don’t know what to do. Your soul cries out, “Light! Give me light!” Trust that your Harbor is close by, even though you can’t see it. Know that this storm will pass and your path will become clear.

The only thing that gets us through the overwhelming storms in life is love: God’s love. But it is our calling, our privilege, to be God’s love with skin on it. We are the beacons of God’s love. Mother Teresa said, “In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love.” What small thing can you do to help another person hold onto hope in the midst of their storm? Just knowing that someone else cares, that someone else sees your pain and is willing to sit with you through it, is the miracle that keeps you paddling. A card. A hug. A smile. A willingness to make eye contact with eyes full of fear or sadness. A casserole. A ride to the hospital. A phone call. A sack of groceries. A shoveled driveway…

You are God’s GPS to the lives around you.

Grace Happening People - "C" Stands for Christ in Others

June 30, 2007

This is the fourth installment of a twelve-week summer series based on the anagram “GRACE HAPPENS,” each letter representing a quality that equips us to be “Grace Happening People.”

“C” is for Christ:
Grace Happening People See Christ in Others.

So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them.
Genesis 1:27

I have always been intrigued and inspired by the life and ministry of Mother Teresa. When asked how it was that she could minister, day in and day out, to the dying and destitute, she replied that she simply would seek to see Christ in each individual she ministered to. It was this ability to see Christ in others that gave her the strength to minister in the worst of conditions to those suffering from the worst of what life has to offer. Her unique “vision” called forth her deep, Christ-like capacity for compassion.

As a therapist, I embrace another unique viewpoint that sharpens my ability to see with the eyes of compassion. John Bradshaw made popular the theory that we each possess an “inner child,” that part of us that came into this world innocent and bursting with potential. But growing up in an imperfect world, we all are spiritually and emotionally wounded along the way, causing us to lose sight of the person God created us to be. If we take God at his word—that we are created in God’s image—then our view of ourselves and others should reflect this.

In therapy, I strive to help clients reconnect with this creative, resourceful, Christ-like part of themselves. Buried beneath woundedness and sin, shame and regrets, fear and loneliness is a unique and precious individual that I seek to “see.” I can be much more compassionate and patient with difficult people (whether they are family, friends or clients!) if I remember that they too, like me, are wounded yet wonderful children, deeply loved and cherished by our Maker.

This comes fairly easy for me—except when someone rubs me the wrong way or pushes my buttons. I can rally compassion for misguided, brainwashed young men and forgive them for their terrorist activities (although this might change if one of my own loved ones was a direct victim). I can pardon one who has sinned against me (especially if she’s confessed, shown deep remorse, and groveled for my forgiveness—and I’ve nursed my grievances to my satisfaction). I am long-suffering and patient with those less fortunate than me (but my tolerance and dedication are inversely related to a rise in temperature, humidity, hunger, boredom, fatigue…). I hate to admit that there are so many limits to my ability to see the imprint of God in others—but it’s true.

Jesus said, "The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness.” (Matthew 6:22-23) Sometimes my spiritual eyesight is 20/20, but more often than not, my vision is impaired by a myriad of complicated and complex factors. I need special lenses to help me see Christ in others: lenses that filter out my sense of entitlement and air of superiority; lenses immune to the smudges of gossip and the scratches of hurt feelings; crystal clear lenses that are neither rose-colored (an unwillingness to see reality, preferring my own close-minded slant) or tinged green from envy, darkened by a negative attitude or clouded by poor judgment.

This week I hope you will join me in paying attention to which lenses you are wearing—you may switch them numerous times a day, depending on the circumstances—and make a conscious effort to slip off the distorting lenses and don the eyes of our Creator.