About a year ago at this time, I was having panic attacks. I'd just picked up a girl with whom I'd exchanged only about 4 emails ever from the Calgary airport, and we'd signed a one year lease on a basement suite, and we were going to live together. I think I'd met her approximately one week prior to agreeing to spend the next year of my life in close quarters with her.
She'd never lived in North America (she's a Kiwi who grew up as an MK in West Africa) before. I'd never lived away from my parent's house before. Together we figured out this "flatting" in Calgary business.
Tonight I found myself sitting next to her on a couch, visiting with her parents (in from New Zealand), and her boyfriend (down from parts north to meet the parents) and reflecting that God knew what he was doing when he put us together.
J. has become a special friend. She's put up with my crazy moods this last while as I've sought to assimilate a great many changes in a short time. It was with great affection that I sat and teased her about having to sleep on my bedroom floor tonight. (her parents are using her bedroom, and her boyfriend will occupy our living room floor, where she's been sleeping for the last week or so while her parents have been with us.)
It was a random connection just over a year ago. Our parents had met each other once, just over a decade previously, in West Africa, and had many mutual friends who put the two of us in touch with each other.
Or maybe not so random. Maybe a gift from a God who knew precisely what I needed at the moment when I so badly needed to be out from under my parent's roof.
We're getting ready to move again. (We're adding a third girl - another Kiwi - to the mix). We visited a potential house tonight, and J. will follow up with the landlord to ask some questions and possibly arrange a lease in the morning.
Over the last year we've laughed together. Cooked together (and apart). We've both travelled to a wide variety of places, on the North American continent, and not so much. We've painted toenails and tinted eyelashes. And in the last few months, as we've each navigated major changes in our lives, we've hugged, we've cried, and even occasionally prayed together. (And there was that one memorable afternoon where we were both truly miserable and together feasted on the richest cheesecake we could buy for take-away at a local restaurant, and watched the goofiest movie we could think of.)
Tonight I'm thankful that God sent me J., just at the right moment. I'm thankful that someone who started out as a "convenient roommate" has become a friend who sees the deep places of my heart and loves me anyway.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
More from Henri Nouwen
More great thoughts from the Henri Nouwen society daily emails:
Being Clothed in Christ
Being a believer means being clothed in Christ. Paul says: "Every one of you that has been baptised has been clothed in Christ" (Galatians 3:26) and "Let your armour be the Lord Jesus Christ" (Romans 13:14). This being "clothed in Christ" is much more than wearing a cloak that covers our misery. It refers to a total transformation that allows us to say with Paul: "I have been crucified with Christ and yet I am alive; yet it is no longer I, but Christ living in me" (Galatians 2:20).
Thus, we are the living Christ in the world. Jesus, who is God-made-flesh, continues to reveal himself in our own flesh. Indeed, true salvation is becoming Christ.
God's Breath Given to Us
Being the living Christ today means being filled with the same Spirit that filled Jesus. Jesus and his Father are breathing the same breath, the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the intimate communion that makes Jesus and his Father one. Jesus says: "I am in the Father and the Father is in me" (John 14:10) and "The Father and I are one" (John 10:30). It is this unity that Jesus wants to give us. That is the gift of his Holy Spirit.
Living a spiritual life, therefore, means living in the same communion with the Father as Jesus did, and thus making God present in the world.
Being Clothed in Christ
Being a believer means being clothed in Christ. Paul says: "Every one of you that has been baptised has been clothed in Christ" (Galatians 3:26) and "Let your armour be the Lord Jesus Christ" (Romans 13:14). This being "clothed in Christ" is much more than wearing a cloak that covers our misery. It refers to a total transformation that allows us to say with Paul: "I have been crucified with Christ and yet I am alive; yet it is no longer I, but Christ living in me" (Galatians 2:20).
Thus, we are the living Christ in the world. Jesus, who is God-made-flesh, continues to reveal himself in our own flesh. Indeed, true salvation is becoming Christ.
God's Breath Given to Us
Being the living Christ today means being filled with the same Spirit that filled Jesus. Jesus and his Father are breathing the same breath, the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the intimate communion that makes Jesus and his Father one. Jesus says: "I am in the Father and the Father is in me" (John 14:10) and "The Father and I are one" (John 10:30). It is this unity that Jesus wants to give us. That is the gift of his Holy Spirit.
Living a spiritual life, therefore, means living in the same communion with the Father as Jesus did, and thus making God present in the world.
Faking Trust?
I’m thinking this morning about the idea of a “fake it ‘til you make it” faith. I’m wondering if it works, and if maybe that’s the way to approach trust?
What if, everytime the Lord asks something of me, something that requires me to exhibit the trust that I don’t really have, I stopped, and instead of immediately refusing, asked myself how I would respond to that same request if it was posed to me by someone I implicitly trusted? What if I then chose to take a step into nothingness, and responded in the fashion that I would to one I trust?
My head says the Lord is implicitly trustworthy. My heart is having a bit more trouble with that proposition. My heart says that steps of trust and obedience have led me into a lot of really dark and painful places over the years, and asks why I should trust one that causes me pain? My head is quick to remind me that pain is not always a bad thing, but my heart has trouble with the idea that something that feels so bad could actually be good.
Trust and obedience are closely linked for me. I will not obey with any consistency one whom I don’t trust. My deep heart desire is to be continually obedient to the voice of the Lord, and for that, I need to trust.
What if, just for one weekend, I give this trust thing a shot?
What if, everytime the Lord asks something of me, something that requires me to exhibit the trust that I don’t really have, I stopped, and instead of immediately refusing, asked myself how I would respond to that same request if it was posed to me by someone I implicitly trusted? What if I then chose to take a step into nothingness, and responded in the fashion that I would to one I trust?
My head says the Lord is implicitly trustworthy. My heart is having a bit more trouble with that proposition. My heart says that steps of trust and obedience have led me into a lot of really dark and painful places over the years, and asks why I should trust one that causes me pain? My head is quick to remind me that pain is not always a bad thing, but my heart has trouble with the idea that something that feels so bad could actually be good.
Trust and obedience are closely linked for me. I will not obey with any consistency one whom I don’t trust. My deep heart desire is to be continually obedient to the voice of the Lord, and for that, I need to trust.
What if, just for one weekend, I give this trust thing a shot?
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