what can happen in a year

In taking a look at my old posts from more than a year ago, I had forgotten that Zora Neale Hurston's quote had been on my mind at the turn into 2011. I'd also forgotten that C. S. Lewis poem about Addison's Walk.

It turns out, 2011 was a year of more questions. And the summer did not come true (at least, not in the way the Addison Walk bird insinuated).

2011, in brief, looked something like this:

• February: Learn that we were moving from my home (a 2-story + basement house) to a 1,000-sq ft apartment in another state. 
• April: Return for spring break to discover all my childhood memories for sale in basically any available room on the first floor. If we'd sold our books from K-5th grade for just $2 each, we would've had over $400. I remembered every single book.
• June-July: Take a summer chemistry course in which I was the only liberal arts major. After class, apartment-hunt all day. Homework all night. Find refuge in my home church and re-establishing friendships there.
• July: PACK. and also, paint the new apartment. 
• August: MOVING DAY. Live in an apartment full of unpacked boxes, with no furniture and a family that doesn't even get along when we have our own rooms. We fell apart. Return to school totally broken.
• September - December: Literary Criticism & Theory consumed my life. At least, any part of it that hadn't succumbed to deep depression. After 3 years of loss, my body gave out. Stopped eating, speaking, caring. Friends forced me to meals & counseling. Around December, I finally started to get better. 

2012, in short, has been a year of healing. If you'd told me a year ago that by this time I would have started to get better, feel happy again, and find a place that feels like home, I would've laughed at you. Or stared blankly past you and rolled back to stare at the wall. 

But God had other plans. He placed people & events in my life to pull me back up. He did not leave me alone. He is a God of healing, restoration, and love. 

Hopefully, in the next few weeks, I'll be able to process some of that and put it to words.

song of the summer:

"Aslan," Kendall Payne

Don't stop your crying on my account,

A frightening lion, no doubt. 

He's not safe, no, He's not safe--

Are you tempted now to run away? 

The King above all Kings is coming down. 

But He won't say the words you wish that He would;

Oh, He don't do the deeds you know that He could;

He won't think the thoughts you think that He should

But He is good...He is good. 

I know you're thirsty, the water is free--

But I should warn you, it costs everything.

Well, He's not fair, no, He's not fair

When He fixes what's beyond repair

And graces everyone that don't deserve. 

No one knows Him whom eyes never seen.

No, I don't know Him, but He knows me,

He knows me, He knows me. 

Lay down your layers, shed off your skin,

But without His incision, you can't enter in. 

He cuts deep, yeah, He cuts deep

When the risk is great & the talk is cheap,

But never leaves a wounded one behind.

the love of Jesus

O Father of Jesus,
Help me to approach You with deepest reverence,
not with presumption,
not with servile fear, but with holy boldness.
You are beyond the grasp of my understanding,
but not beyond that of my love.
You know that I love You supremely,
for You are supremely adorable, good perfect.

My heart melts at the love of Jesus,
my brother, bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh,
married to me, dead for me, risen for me;
He is mine and I am His,
given to me as well as for me;
I am never so much mine as when I am His,
or so much lost to myself until lost in Him;
then I find my true [womanhood].

But my love is frost and cold, ice and snow;
Let His love warm me,
lighten my burden,
be my heaven;
May it be more revealed to me in all its influences
that my love to Him may be more fervent and glowing;
Let the mighty tide of His everlasting love
cover the rocks of my sin and care;
Then let my spirit float above those things
which had else wrecked my life.

Make me fruitful by living to that love,
my character becoming more beautiful every day.
If traces of Christ’s love-artistry be upon me,
may He work on with His divine brush
until the [c o m p l e t e] image be obtained
and I be made a perfect copy of Him,
my Master.

O Lord Jesus, come to me,
O Divine Spirit, rest upon me,
O Holy Father, look on me in mercy
for the sake of the well-beloved. 

[a late-night prayer, read in turmoil, from The Valley of Vision.]

mercy cuts deep

The only thing harder than asking forgiveness is to ask it...and live with its denial.  Even if you hear the words “I forgive you”, words ring false.  Averted eyes, icy silence, stolen friends, complete rejection – these speak the truth in the heart. 

I do not understand.  I cannot fathom how someone can sing of God’s mercy and grace on sinners, but refuse to extend that God-given forgiveness to a repentant sister.  That’s not how it's supposed to work, I protest.  So much of me wants to cry out:  This is not fair. 

But I cannot be angry.  I cannot be resentful, or bitter.  I cannot even want justice, because the penalty has already been borne by Another.  To cry out for more justice is to curse the blood that covers me.   

Still I struggle, because all that is not of God in me is not satisfied with that answer.

And yet, what do I read?  God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.  While I am still a sinner, Christ died for me.  While they are still sinners, Christ died for them.  This Gospel I sing compels me to believe that neither of us will receive justice.  Not only to believe it, but to rejoice in it.  

The cross gives me hope that one day, long-held grudges and old wounds will not matter.  We will all praise the Giver of the grace lavished upon us.  And not just grace that we ourselves have received, but that has been poured upon all who trust in the name of Jesus - even those who caused the wounds.  

"Let us wonder grace & justice,

Join & point to mercy's store.

When through grace in Christ our trust is -- 

Justice smiles, and asks no more."

(Photo:  A church in the Bronx.  Taken as I sat in New York Friday traffic.)