the broken run to the broken for the light
There is awe that can only happen in the very darkest places, in the pitch of addiction, perversion, of true hunger and thirst. I’ve had the heart, cancer black, flip into healed rhythm.
Hundreds gathered for the Idea Camp Conference, and we asked ourselves: What is it that keeps you up at night? After two days of learning the whole-picture (the special needs, the blank-faced, the soldier, the sexed, the taken – all babies with God-image faces), so many of us walked the halls, dispersing for workshops with the knowledge of darkness dripping black from our eyes. Mascara is no use when pealing the surface of the beautiful world back.
I’ve come to believe that we can take a look at the children in any location, and learn about the needs of the entire people there. The children suffer the worst grief of man’s depravity. But even in all that learning, God did not shrink.
This weekend was all light, all voices speaking Jesus-words from perspectives that I would never imagine holding up beneath. So many global workers were standing and speaking whole-story truth, and they were holding up, and they were inviting me beneath the burden of the yoke, and I walked under it, and it wasn’t the kind of heavy you’d think – the most exhausting refreshment.
Yesterday, a morning after the conference was officially over, I woke at 4:30, and I was thinking of Cambodia, a place I couldn’t point to on a map. The children. How trafficking makes me want to peel my skin right off, but then the reigning realization that God is Jehovah Good, and he asks me to step into the pain, and so I do
because when God asks us to step into the dark places (like He did/does) to go after the lambs, He goes with us in full Shekinah shadow-swallowing light. And I see Him better and more beautifully right now, today, than I ever have in my entire life.