"If
you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the
desire of the afflicted, then
shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the
noonday. And the Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in
scorched places and make your bones strong;
and you shall be like
a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail."
{Isaiah 58:10-11}
Spending a week at the White Swan reservation in Yakima, WA,
left more than a few dried splatters of paint on my arms and dirt
under my nails. How can a week living and learning and loving under a 105 degree sun, holding a child grimy with dirt in your lap or slathering slate blue paint on walls and caulking cracks in between boards or singing God's praises with tens of youth or watching the interns love and care for and carry and give piggyback rides and pour themselves over the children with the most beautiful smiles that must touch the heart of God Himself not change someone? To see a ministry living and active and completely overflowing with service in the footsteps of Jesus and to see the changed lives of the children and youth and interns and the beautiful church building and the hearts of those serving. . . how could it not leave an impact on my life?
To wake up to a beautifully arid landscape and to see Mt. Adams framing the dry landscape and finding roadkill a few miles down West Wapato Road and to arrive at church only to pack a sack lunch and head off to a wonderfully challenging day at worksite painting and roofing and building to bless the community only to arrive back in the afternoon for kids club and to hold and carry and play with the young and dirty and forgotten and yet their smiles and their beautiful, bright eyes just stay with me until we head back to rest and fellowship under the light of a golden, full moon.
When I left last week, I was filled with worry over my own
life, and the pages in my journal were filled with fear and uncertainty and insecurity. I was focused on my own hardships and struggles and the little things someone said or did. But arriving at Yakima, my view of myself and God were disoriented and torn from their self-centered perspective. I had to ask myself, do I believe that God is sovereign over all this pain? Is He is control over the physical and sexual and emotional abuse of the children and the economic hardships of the families and the alcohol and drug problems and the broken hearts and uncared-for toddlers? Is He in control and active in the hurting community with mothers younger than me and children wandering around with only diapers and lice in their hair and those who are hurting, hurting in ways that I could never imagine?
And when I looked around and saw the changed lives and the love poured out on the very least, I could say yes. Yes, God is working. Yes, God is turning many towards Him through the examples of His children working faithfully to bring Him honor and praise. I saw the lives on the interns and families and those who trust in Christ, and I saw lives of joy and peace and contentment in the Lord and His work. He is in complete control over each situation, and He is so very, very good.
And if He is control of the abuse and the pain and heartache and the things that break my heart, is He not also in control of my own life? Of the little things that make me worried, of ruined to-do lists, a few hurtful words, healing friendships? Is He not holding the whole world in His hands, holding the lives of those in White Swan and holding mine as well?
Your plans are still to prosper
You have not forgotten us
You're with us in the fire and the flood
You're faithful forever
Perfect in love
You are sovereign over us
And tonight of all nights on July 4th, drunken parties and abuse and the brokenness rages on more than ever in White Swan, and as I reflect on this fact that's so, so wrong, I can't help but cry out and weep over the pain, knowing my God weeps as well. I take comfort in the fact that God's name Emmanuel means God with us, and God not only with me, but God with White Swan and each suffering child and hopeless mother and wounded father and God with Sacred Road, blessing that ministry and allowing it to blossom. God is in the pain. He hears the cry of each child, and He holds them close in His arms. But He's not just leaving the hurt as black and deep as it is, but He's working and moving, creating something glorious and hopeful and peaceful and beautiful, an oasis of joy and beauty in the midst of the blackest pain.
This week I had the chance to "come and see," and I saw. I saw brokenness, but I saw beauty. The beauty of Jesus' heart beating and His love poured out to the children and youth and adults, and I saw the beauty of changed hearts and lives of people once living in sin brought to His feet. I saw the beauty of the interns and teams and families faithfully and diligently working in the heat to love those who Jesus loves. Life is full of brokenness, but we do have a God who is sovereign over our worries and fears and a God who turns our brokenness into something beautiful to shine brightly because of the hope we have in Him.
Although we are weeping
Lord,
help us keep sowing
The seeds of Your Kingdom
For the day You will reap them
Your sheaves we will carry
Lord, please do not tarry
All those who sow weeping
will go out with songs of joy
The nations will say, "He has done great
things!"
The nations will sing songs of joy
