i almost cried (where is a shoulder? where is a sleeve?)

i almost cried watching the news the other night. it was a story about a missing girl. but i have heard that many times before.
her mother was pleading with the entire nation. through tears equal to the most eloquent summer shower, she begged for someone to come forward with something. so many unknowns. so many variables. but i didn’t cry when the mother cried. i have seen that before.
my mother was watching too. “another sicko,” she said, “with his lost dog story.”
another another another.
but this time, and in that moment, something turned inside me. i almost cried.

i almost cried for this little girl because Lord knows where she is or what she is going through. but i have seen enough news stories and television shows. i know what usually happens.

i almost cried with the mother. helpless, confused, desperate, what are you feeling? i thought of myself as a parent.
i thought of myself as a parent…

i almost cried at my helplessness. my mind began calculating, scheming. i am healthy and able-bodied. how could i get to Quebec and help? would i be of any help? what could i even do?

i almost cried for the many times i have not cried at the news. if we allowed ourselves to actually be impacted by all the stories we hear and see, could we handle it?

* * *

forget the news, forget the big picture for a moment.
what if we actually opened up to each other, instead of making secrets out of silly things?
what if i told you what i have done, what i have come through?
could you handle it?
could i handle it?
is it even appropriate or necessary?

for me, this all relates back to my recent thinking about community, about living real and close and intentionally with other people. and i cannot help but think that the more we knew about those we live with, the more joy and freedom we would all have – even if we are sharing the rubbish and badness we carry with us. if we got it out, we could celebrate.

can you imagine being in Jesus’ physical presence every day? you would not be able to hide anything. if you were figuring something out or struggling or hurt, he would look at you – that would be it.
it would be overwhelming to look into those eyes. but comforting too.
so what is the difference for us then? we are still invited to be with him every day. he has left the Spirit as a guide and mentor. but we, we have made privacy a right. and we, we have made Jesus private.
we have even come up with pretty little ways to pretend we are sharing our struggles and being real. and so our stories have all become the same. mine is the same as yours, and yours too, so why would you be interested?
“i grew up in a Christian home, at some point i backslid until i made Jesus my own.”
but what is backsliding? it is as unimaginative as using the “f” word incessantly, except the “f” word has more passion, misplaced though it may be.
how we backslid – and how we got out of it – that is what makes us real people! you want to be relevant? you want to be real? forget going to the pub after your evening service, featuring clips from a Bono interview – tell your story!

of course it is easier said. i think of things i have to tell and the thought that follows immediately is “but how would they react?”
shame. pride.
these have almost become as much a part of the church as the inspired Word itself. but how, how deadly they are. and so long as we cling to our privacy, propped up by personal issue prayer requests and bland backsliding, they will thrive.
but where there is light, there cannot be darkness. where there is honesty, there is acceptance. and where there are struggles laid bare, for us to share, there will be love.

it is scary, and as i have heard it put so well, people are messy. and i do not know if i am even ready to actually run with my thoughts here. and if i was, i do not know if anyone else would want to as well. and as much as we need to care about the world, about missions and overseas, there is no need to do a building project in Mexico if you want to get your hands dirty.
just give your neighbour a hug.
who knows, maybe their dirt will seem strangely familiar.

in many cultures, washing laundry is something done together.