Grief

Where do I even begin? As soon as we landed in Newark, New Jersey I had about 6 million thoughts cross my mind, but the one that dominated over the little ones was this: "I can't believe that these two worlds exist at the same time."

I remembered suddenly myself about a month earlier walking through City Center mall in Mumbai--a mall with ice cream kiosks and marble floors. Then I remember walking out of the mall to find a 6 month old baby sitting in the middle of the sidewalk completely alone. Abandoned? I looked up to widen my view of what was around me, and on the opposite side of the street was the beginning of a slum. Just one "small" slum of hundreds throughout the city. Extremes.



How could this mall--a place where the wealthy shop be located so near to the place where the poor live everyday? I just could not reconcile that in my mind. I didn't want to have to.

As our 747 descended over the New York City skyline, and the lights of the city competed with the rising sun in the east, the nagging thought of, "How can this be, Lord?" hit me hard once again. Just on the other side of the ocean, so many wouldn't even believe that a city like Mumbai even existed. To be totally honest, I've avoided processing my last 7 weeks of life. I've avoided thinking about those lying in the streets in the mornings as I ran; I've avoided thinking about where baby Rija sleeps while her mom works; I've avoided thinking about Sanjay's fear before he falls asleep at night; I've avoided thinking about the garbage on the streets and the smell of urine; I've avoided thinking about those worshiping God's made of plastic. I've avoided it all.

As puke came out of my mouth and nose two nights before we left, the tears streamed because after the most life-altering summer of my life came to a close, the only thought that I was able to think was, "Get me out of here. Get me home now." Only after a summer in India could I kill a cockroach as I threw up violently. I began to wrestle there on the bathroom floor with fear. I feared leaving Mumbai. I feared leaving so many things undone. So many people untouched. So many brokenhearted still broken. So many chains still binding. So many souls still lost. So many people that I had fallen in love with. So much of the culture that I had become so thankful for just abandoned. I wrestled with the fear of forgetting. I wrestled with the fear of returning to a life unchanged. I wrestled with the fear of sinking back into the everyday. I wrestled with the fear of never returning. Then I would throw up again, and then I would wrestle with the fear of discomfort. I would wrestle with the fear of returning and changing and remembering. I wrestled with the fear of actually going back there and loving it. So many contradicting fears. I didn't want to leave and I didn't want to stay. I feared a soft heart to Mumbai for fear of allowing God to call me to live there long-term, and two seconds later, I feared a hardened heart to Mumbai for fear of not allowing God to call me to live there long-term.

A couple days earlier, I had been working through my fear of safety. I was talking with God about why I feared for my safety so often. Why was it that for some reason that was a right that I really thought I deserved, but at the same time something I feared so very much? I'm not sure if that makes total sense, but bear with me. I began to realize that feeling immediately safe is not indicative of my circumstances. God so graciously reminded me of times throughout the summer that I really walked down the street confidently, feeling completely safe when the day before I walked in fear. I felt safe not because men weren't staring or because my purse wasn't at risk of being reached into or because there weren't children on the ground that I could trip over, but it was because I was walking in confidence of God's will for my life. I was walking with Jesus through a place that was easy to be overwhelmed by and afraid of. God began to show me that safety isn't about location physically, presently, but spiritually, eternally. I am safe in His hands. I am safe wherever I am because I am in the arms of my King, my Almighty who promises to never leave nor forsake me. It baffled me to think that I could ever feel safer in Mumbai, India than in Chicago, Illinois. After the shift from knowing that God is my Protector and my Provider and my Sustainer to really believing it, I started to realize that I don't necessarily fear for my safety, persay, but I really do fear living a "safe" life. Let me explain. I fear living in fear. It would be really scary for me to move to a place like Mumbai unable to walk confidently down the street due to my discomfort. But at the same time, I fear taking the "easy" way--not that any way is really easy at all--but I mean, playing it safe; limiting God and the capacity of His work in and through my life. I'm sure so many people have feared the same thing...settling and placing boundaries on a boundless God; but I'm actually positive that a lot of today's churched haven't feared that. A lot of the modern-day church has really failed to fear God.

A week ago last Sunday, the day after I arrived home from India, I took communion and read about the Lord's supper in 1 Corinthians 11 like I do every time I take communion. The words of Paul pierced deeper--his words like glass cut deeply into my heart and I began to grieve over the church. In verses 17-22, Paul says that when the Corinthians came together for the Lord's supper that it was not for the better, but for the worse because there were divisions among them. He said that upon coming together"it is not the Lord's supper that you are eating. For in eating, each one goes ahead with his own meal. One goes hungry, another gets drunk." (1 Co. 11:20, 21)

Woah. In this passage, Paul was saying that the Corinthians were not rightly participating in the Lord's supper because of their selfishness--they were not representing the sacrificial death of Christ and the true character of their Lord. Paul says that the few wealthy in Corinth were going ahead with their meals in complete disregard of those who were hungry and had nothing. Some even had too much and got drunk while others suffered.

I'm not sure if this is making as much sense to you as it has been to me, but I hope that it is. I don't think the edge of the glass on Paul's words were intended to just be really striking to me, but I think the sharpness of his words have huge implications for the function of our church today. Paul recounts the tradition of the Lord's supper to the Corinthians and tells them very plainly that when Jesus broke the bread that He told His disciples to "do this in remembrance of me." Paul then says that whoever takes part in the Lord's supper in an unworthy manner is guilty concerning the body and blood of the Lord. What did it mean to take communion in an unworthy manner? Paul was probably referring to the great divide between the wealthy and the poor--the acceptance of entitlement and divisiveness as opposed to adopting Christ's example of humility and selflessness.

So as I sat in church on Sunday, I felt the Lord asking that in light of the things I had experienced this summer, to "examine myself." Jesus' body was broken and His blood poured out for me. When He told me to take up my cross and follow Him, I'm certain that wasn't a call to live in ignorance and abundance, but rather in imitation of Him. What Paul is saying in these few verses is that the selfish behavior of the Corinthians was not only a sin against others, but also disrespectful to Jesus Himself. I'm still in process with what this looks like in my own life, so humbly I ask for you to join me in examining ourselves and our lives and the ways that we live to see if we are really living in true understanding and reflection of the Gospel. The Exalted one emptied Himself in our place. How should that be imitated in our daily lives in light of the great divide?

I wish that I had the answers. As I sit in my living room contemplating the extremes that I've experienced in the last two months, I am reminded of all those fears I talked about earlier. I was afraid of returning to a life unchanged. I was afraid of stepping back into the everyday. The transition has been really hard because I know that grief is normal, but finding the balance of how much is okay to grieve has been a challenge. I feel like my life has stopped in some ways. My current reality is that I'm frozen here. Here in this place where I cry when I don't want to or know why. In this place where I fail to understand myself and push others away when I feel misunderstood. In this place where I don't quite know how to pray or hand my burdens over to Abba. I feel stuck, like I'm sad--so deeply sad and grieved that I feel like life shouldn't just keep going on here; or maybe I feel like life should keep going here, but I just have no idea how to do that. I think that daily, I'm learning to trust Him while walking on untread ground. I don't know what comes next or how I'm supposed to feel or in what ways I'm supposed to respond. The real reality is that I must learn to believe that God is sovereign before I can really begin to understand myself and my own heart. While I'm not in India, He is still working there (and here), and for a short 7 weeks, I was just able to get a glimpse of His bigger picture.

Looking back, though, I have so many stories of how God has transformed my heart, increased my faith, and expanded my image of Him. He is the God who sees, the God who longs to redeem, the God who makes all things new, the God who protects and plucks from evil, He is the God who loves fiercely and deeply, the God who is jealous over His children, the God who hears and answers before we can even call, the God who does far more than we could ever ask or imagine, the God who gives abundantly, the God whose purpose stands, the God whose command does not return void, the God who heals, the God who keeps His promises, the God who comforts those who mourn, the God who loves the sojourners, the God who knows us better than we know ourselves, the Creator God, the God who longs to meet our every need and heal our every wound, the God who fights for us, the God who intercedes for us when we know not what to pray for as we ought, the God who loves me--who defines me by His love and patiently teaches me to trust Him.

Thank you God that you are who you say you are. Thank you that you leave nothing undone, and that you accomplish your purpose in such ways that bring glory to yourself, even when we fail to understand. Jesus will you graciously teach us to live lives right where we're at that are glorifying to you? Will you help the church today to function in humility and selflessness, with arms reaching and prayers lifted? May we be convicted of our "safe" lives, and may we begin to live with our crosses upon our backs for you no matter what our location. Help us to experience deep joy and help us to dwell in the depths of your grace as we stumble through this life. We love you and thank you Jesus for being the Servant of All. It's in your name we pray, Amen.