My husband gave me much to ponder recently when he told me that I really should allow people to see me as more than just a sufferer. He said that I am very funny and lighthearted much of the time but that I don’t typically reflect much of that side of myself in my writing/speaking. And well, as much I wanted to argue with him about this, I just couldn’t find a way to do so. Why? Because I know he’s right. And, on some level, it makes sense that I’m this way. After all, facing death/cancer in my thirties is what God used to compel me to go “public” with my writing and to begin to speak about my faith in Him. Thus, of course, I share with others principally from the perspective of our suffering down here.
But, my husband is right indeed–that’s not the whole story. Regardless of how “sad” our stories down here may seem, God’s story (aka: the Gospel), the truest story ever written, is anything but sad. Just like our lives down here, though, there are sad parts–most notably His Christ’s crucifixion; but, the story just simply does not end there. As Paul points out in Scripture, if the crucifixion was the end of the story, we his followers would be sad creatures indeed. We’re not though, or at least we shouldn’t be. Sad on the surface, yes, we often are–but never, ever sad in the soul. We can afford, all thanks to our Christ, the lovely luxury of doing life down here with rather silly souls–“silly” in the very best sense of the word.
I mean “silly” as in belly-laughing randomly and loudly just because it feels so darn good to do so. And “silly” as in sitting down with the little children in our life and enjoying a blow-your-mind cute Disney Junior episode on an I-pad. And “silly” as in an occasional bowl of spray-can whipped cream with/for breakfast (and I mean a really big bowl). And “silly” as in a letting-go-of-every-inhibition kind of dance in a heavy (but thunder/lightning-free) rain when every “sensible” person is running inside to stay dry. And “silly” as in making plans for a most glorious future when you cannot even seem to find a way to move forward and do the thing right in front of you. Yes, “silly” is a very relative word to us all indeed.
I have come to believe, through a lifetime of trials, that we can journey through life down here quite full of cares and yet still be carefree. As I said in an earlier post (regarding the lyrics of “Touch of Sky”), life with/through Christ is full of such paradoxes. Our cares may appear to be breaking us apart, yet we can sing and dance, praising our great God all the while. It doesn’t mean we don’t hurt–and desperately so at times; it does mean, however, that we know the end of His grand story, a story that’s already written in its entirety and always has been. I say this without completely understanding it. But I am beginning to understand that our mighty God is not constrained at all by time like we are. Our “timeless” God is just that–he never, ever runs out of time and he’s never, ever locked in by it. Wow–I want to be more like that…..more like him.
This thought takes me back to a childhood memory I haven’t revisited in a long, long time. I’m picturing random older gentlemen who used to sit on things like wooden barrels or boxes near the door (either in or outside) of the little country stores my late father used to deliver meat to every week of his life. It seemed like time stood still in/near the doors of those stores. Dad and I would frequently take a seat near the doors, and we’d each go to the drink machine to get a really cold Coca-Cola (in those adorable tiny bottles) and to a shelf for a bag of Lance peanuts that we’d then deliberately pour inside of our drink before we took a swig. To many people whom I’ve met since this memory was formed, this image might seem like quite a silly one indeed. But, I can see now how priceless such moments were. My husband’s so right, which I just said again purely for his benefit because he doesn’t hear it from me often enough. I do need to show my “lighter” side more, a side which I’m sure developed as I listened to the small talk and colorful jokes of older men (all of whom will remain unnamed) sitting on barrels at country stores. I feel confident that such moments prepare us for Heaven just about as much as any other moments down here do. In fact, I think such “carefree” moments are some of the very ones God has used most to teach me to try to be the type of person who actually slows down long enough to care.
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