Tuesday, September 2, 2008

This Story Must be Told.

Her hands told her story. Aged some, fingernails bitten down to pieces as they always were. The mark on her left hand ring finger where a wedding ring once clung, safely. A promise. She could still feel him next to her at night...almost hear his snoring that she never seemed to mind.
Because she promised. She promised to love him that day in her youth as a beautiful bride, her dark hair cascasding in curls down the bridal satin of her dress.
Through the snoring, the greying of the hair, the less than pleasant days...through the good times and the bad. In happiness and in want. In rags. In riches.
She promised.
Her aged hands dried the tears from her eyes with a soft tissue pressed to her still-youthful face.
He had slammed the door soon after the better part of 25 years. And in tears she would plead with her daughter every night to hope in something greater. To hope in the One who would never even reach for the door handle when the going was tough. She reassured her little one, a blonde young woman with freckles on the top of her nose that that man would come one day. In spite of it all, there was hope. For the one who never reached for the door handle would usher in a man.
Not a boy.
A man. Unfiltered love. Radiant eyes. One who would rather not live one more day on this earth without her daughter. She knew her daughter would be scooped up. Carried away by the prince she always dreamed of.
And no. He would never be perfect. But he would love in every way he knew how. And that would be more than enough. To wipe the tears from her daughter's face and make use of those laugh lines and dimples in her face once again. It had been so long since her baby girl had laughed. So long. As she sat with the tears burning her eyes she remembered the day her little girl had stopped laughing. She remembered the look on her daughter's face when she came back inside after begging her daddy with tears pouring down her face onto the hot July pavement...She felt the loss her daughter felt. A kick in the stomach. Her baby's pale face...puffy eyes from crying...the million questions she would have for years and years to come. The questions that would most certainly come when the man of her dreams would show up, put a beautiful sparkling ring on that finger and lift her little girl in his strong arms.
The questions of how was she to plan a wedding without her daddy there? Present. Interested in her life and who she was...who she loved with her whole heart. She couldn't bear to think of the wedding day. With no one to walk her daughter down the aisle. She knew these questions would come.
The tissue got damper with tears the more the thoughts flooded her mind. She pictured her little girl completely grown. Into a woman. In a room standing in front of a mirror...in the most breathtaking white dress not even a princess could envision.
"Mom, can you help me button up? Mom...where is my "something blue?" Ah...gosh Mom...I am so scared. But excited...but scared."
"I know little girl."
"Moooooom. I'm not little anymore. I'm getting married!"
"Oh I know. I keep forgettting. It's like I keep seeing you as you once were, running into my room at night in an oversized t-shirt you got at some concert asking me to put rollers in your hair!"
"Ha...oh I remember that....Mom?"
"...I wish Dad was here."
"I know."
"Yeah. But it's okay...I think I'm okay."
"You are. You will be. Look straight into that wonderful man's eyes and don't look back. Hold fast to that love my little girl. And you do have one father who loves you more than anyone else. Ever. And he's watching you today. He's there Meggie."
"I know Mom..."
And He was. He was there. Nodding his approval as his precious daughter's dress sparkled and slid down the church aisle...closer to a beaming kind-hearted man. His eyes glistened with tears as she smiled at him. Part goofily to try and soothe the poor man's nerves. His eyes danced with laughter. As did hers. As did His as He watched, the wisdom of thousands of divine years beaming from his eyes...not from a seat in the church...from the heavens above.
And His laughter as the preacher said, "You make kiss the bride..." echoed the heavens. And His applause? That was the loudest of all...

Not really about Ed Hardy, Prada, or highlights.

Why do we lie to each other in the places where a lie shouldn't ever be passed through lips? Why do we lie to each other at all?

We honestly should be ashamed of ourselves. People who consider themselves to be a follower of Jesus Christ but never feel the desire to truly love someone for who they are, in spite of their flaws, in spite of their financial situation, family, reputation, struggles, etc.

How can we be so cold? No, maybe they don't wear true religion jeans, carry a prada bag, have touched-up highlights, or have squeezed into an overrated ed hardy t-shirt that costs enough to feed the hungry children of the world for years of their life...does that mean that Jesus doesn't hurt for them? Does that mean that His all-mighty loving heart doesn't beat for them? bleed for them?

Then why doesn't our "christian" heart beat at all?

How can we turn the other cheek and look the other way when we see someone alone in a place they should never be alone? in a world with so much hurt that this could be the last day they choose to live? and we, a generation who claims to love Christ cannot see past our own proud and selfish desires?

How is it possible we let our friendships that were once so strong with these people simply slip away and never ask them about their lives ever again? Was Jesus really a small talker?

"hi how are you i like your shirt/earrings/shoes/haircut yeah awesome i'm doing fine. bye."

Life is not a game to see how truly fake we can be.
If we serve in ministry, we love people and care about the details of their lives. We invest our time and energies into people even if we don't get along with them or necessarily agree with everything they say. Jesus constantly walked the streets with the "worst of sinners." The people who the rest of the world pointed at and laughed at and deemed untouchable.

I see more christians pointing fingers these days than holding hands and saying, "I will walk with you."
The guilt is on my hands as well. I am not exempt/perfect/on a self-righteous tangent.
But I can see. and i can share. because I have been the victim and the pointer.

I find it absolutely disgusting. May God save our wretched idealistic it's all about me attitudes. May he somehow redeem our hearts to begin to beat again for the lost and not just for somebody who is beautiful or looks just like us.

May we begin to care about the things that matter in this lifetime which doesn't include money, our reputations, our social standing, our cars and clothes and jewelry. May God burn the ME ME ME from our eyes in order that we may clearly see people hurting and us doing nothing to give them hope. may we recognize those we have hurt and apologize, get on our hands and knees and beg for forgiveness for being lousy witnesses for Jesus Christ's perfect and unashamed love. I'm tired of my own smooth knees; i think it's time to get on my knees and rough 'em up a bit in prayer.
Lord, have mercy on us for choosing to ignore your voice and allowing our voices to selfishly muffle yours.
Speak to your children Oh Father God for some of us are listening.