The things I need to say...

It's been an interesting day. And I think my heart is being shattered by the infinite reality of what it means to love some of the people that God has called me to love. By the reality that a life can become so devalued that a decision like getting in a car with a drunk driver seems logical. By the reality that I have no control over her decisions. That all I can offer is a listening ear and a promise that my love for her will not change.

There was the phone call this morning that I wrote about in my last post. Then I was listening to the incredible story of the way God orchestrated circumstances and miracles in the ministry of a friend of our family who was a missionary to a tribe in Malawi. (I have this on CD - and you should all email me and ask me to mail you a copy - because it is truly incredible!) Then my dad informed me that a Ghanaian pastor friend of his lost his beautiful little three year old daughter to malaria last night. I am caught by the fragility of life, and the seemingly random circumstances of God's interventions. After the phone conversation, I got an email from that same friend, and it scared me all over again - the level of oppression and of fear of healing in her life astounds me. And I can't help but wonder why God did such incredible things for this man's ministry in Malawi, but this tiny little girl in Ghana was allowed to die. Why God so carefully orchestrated things for this man's ministry twenty years before he ever ended up in Malawi, before he was even a believer, but the orchestration of my friend's life allowed for the abuse, neglect, and evil, that are such challenges to overcome all these years later.

I wrote an email to my friend - one that I'm not sure yet that I'll send, but it has a lot of things in it that I need to say, somewhere, even if it's only here. It's one of those things that refused to not be written, and to not be shared, but that I am not sure should be shared with her yet. Maybe it's just for me and God, and for those of you who have been listening in on my conversations with God lately via this blog. I'm going to put it here, with a few changes to identifying details, in order to protect her privacy. The email she sent to me, that I was replying to, had a number of comments that disturbed me, including an intention to cut herself off from the world for a time - to avoid me in order to avoid having to pray through some issues (something I would and could never make her do.) It also included some discussion of her weekend plans - which may or may not be somewhat foolhardy.

Friend,
Getting an email like this from you scares me. Because it makes me wonder how honest you really were when you told me on the phone as we finished our conversation that you were fine. Because if you're not going to talk to me until next month sometime, you weren't fine.

You already know what I'm going to say about going out this weekend. Be smart about it please. For my sake, okay? You don't have to avoid (another friend) and I - neither one of us is going to force prayer or anything else on you. If you don't know that by now, I'm really sorry. Maybe we've been pushy in the past, who knows...

Here's the deal. I love you. I care about you as much as I care for myself. And I'd love to see you make some really wise and healthy choices. Call the counselor. Pray - by yourself or with us - I don't care. Don't endanger your life by getting into a vehicle with that man when he's had too much to drink. Don't party too hard in an effort to escape the reality of your life right now.

I want you to know how often you're on my mind and heart. I want you to know how many whispered prayers I've prayed on your behalf. I want you to know that I'm still going to be there, even if you make a really bad decision. I'll be there if you get hurt because he was drunk and you got in a car with him. Yes, I'll be angry that you were in that position. I'm angry now that he puts you in the position of making that choice. And I'm angry that you continue to choose to get in that vehicle. I'm angry that you've grown up in such a way that there is so little for you to value in your own life. I'm hurting because a beautiful little three-year-old African girl named Rachel that my family knows died of malaria last night, and it wasn't preventable. But your choice to take your life into your hands by getting in his car is preventable. And it makes me angry that there is so little that says that you must value your life. Because life is the greatest gift ever, and yours is infinitely valuable. My anger doesn't change the fact that I love and care about you - in fact, it's because I love and care about you.

So, yes, I'll be there even in the consequences of the bad decisions. But, here's the deal. I'm not going anywhere, but neither will my conscience allow me to be silent when you make those decisions. I have to speak the truth that rests in my mind and heart. And I am painfully aware of how fragile your trust in me is, and every time I open my mouth to speak truth to you, I do it with the awareness that what I'm going to say could very easily damage the trust I've worked for you to build in me. And yet, my heart will not allow me to stay quiet. Because it hurts me when I watch you hurt yourself in these ways.

I think that's it. I mostly wanted to say again that I care. A lot. That I'm not going anywhere. That I'm sorry if I've hurt you, but not sorry that I've challenged you on some things. That I'm praying for you and everyone else affected by this time. But especially for you. That my heart is crying for you, that I wish there was something really practical and tangible I could do, instead of just watching your pain. That I wish I could have given you a real hug this morning instead of a "phone hug." That I love you, and Jesus does too, even when it doesn't feel like it.

Lisa