Fractured

"'I know your works. You have the reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your works complete in the sight of my God. Remember, then, what you received and heard. Keep it, and repent. If you will not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what hour I will come against you...For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing, not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked...Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent (Rev. 3:1-3, 17, 19)."

"Yet you have still a few names in Sardis, people who have not soiled their garments, and they will walk with me in white, for they are worthy. The one who conquers will be clothed thus in white garments, and I will never blot his name out of the book of life. I will confess his name before my Father and before his angels...Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me (Rev. 3:4-5, 20)."

Two different people. No middle ground. Which am I? Let's be honest.

I am wretched.

Pitiable.

Poor.

Blind.

Naked.

I see that now. Or at least I am beginning to see it. It feels good to admit it. The more I pursue Jesus the more my eyes begin to open. Not only do I see more of Jesus and the state of the world, but I see more of me--the true me--exposed by His light, and His holiness. "I once was blind but now I see" how blind I really am, and have always been. How can I truly understand how much I need Jesus until I understand how lacking I am?

I am like a broken mirror.



Not just broken though, but somewhere along the way, pieces got lost and have been missing ever since. The creation was intended to reflect the creativity, the perfection, the beauty, and the holiness of the creator. A perfect relationship, hearts beating in rhythmic harmony and unity with no obstructions, nothing in between, We all know the story from there though, it's an age-old story with an apple (who decided what fruit it was anyways? The Bible sure isn't clear about that.) and a snake and some naked people in a garden. You can complicate the story all you want but the reality is that it comes down to a simple desire for independence from God. They wanted knowledge, but not knowledge that they could have easily obtained from an all-knowing God. No, they wanted knowledge APART from God. So it could easily be said that it was their choice. They, we, chose and choose to separate from God.

So we're mirrors, broken and incomplete. We push and push, trying to reflect perfection, all the while really oblivious and unaware of the true extent of our brokenness. The light shining upon us bends, twist, distorts every which way sending out fragmented glimpses of His beauty. So not only are we seeing a fractured image of God but we are looking at him through broken eyes. Paul describes our perspective in 1 Corinthians 13:12, as seeing "through a glass, darkly." We're just messed up. That's the truth. No sugar-coating. I am messed up.

I am wretched. Pitiable. Poor. Blind. Naked...

And the closer I get in pursuing Jesus, the more I see how broken I am.

"Look, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and all the peoples of the earth will mourn because of him. So shall it be! Amen (Rev. 1:7)."

The Greek word for mourn here cannot fully be captured in this word alone. It literally means to wail or to groan deep in the depths of your Spirit. The broken and fragmented pieces reflect glimpses of Him, but when we come into contact with the full HOLINESS of God, the automatic response of every human being will be to groan. It will be a piercing light into the darkness of the depths of our own souls and we will be sickeningly aware of our position in comparison to this holy God. For those of us who have chosen Jesus, I imagine, it will be a slightly different experience as we will see our ugliness clothed in is righteousness. But I think we will still groan as we are made increasingly aware of what we have been saved from.

In fact, these days, I find myself groaning a lot. I am saved yes and for that I know that I need Jesus. But beyond that I know that I am being saved. Day in and day out, he is restoring me. And that is what keeps me truly needing Jesus--every moment of every day. I want to see him more clearly and reflect him more clearly. And because of that I will continue to groan. It's the process of healing the broken pieces and recovering the ones that have been lost so that I can one day be what I was originally intended to be.

"Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known (1 Cor. 13:!2)."

Holy Ground

Clinical Day One 10/02/08: Long Term Care (Bethany at Silver Lake).

The woman, the patient I am specifically assigned to, who was said to be difficult. "A little fiesty." Eating lunch with her and talking about her family. I would meet her daughter tomorrow, she said, because she always comes on Fridays. Her showing me exactly how to "put on her eyebrows" so that I could do it when I came in the next morning. She had decided to trust me with the job. The look on her face when I told her I would come tomorrow at 6 am and that she would probably still be sleeping. The smile on her face, "I'll try and wake up early."

Changing the diaper of an old man. Peanut butter on his chin from lunch and an enormous genuine smile. Pictures of his family and a 10lb rainbow trout above his bed. He caught it and ate it and was proud of it. How he was still smiling and rattling on about that fish when I put on his pants and tucked him into bed. The smile I couldn't suppress as I shut the door and walked out into the hall.

Crouching on the floor holding an emesis basin under a lonely, elderly woman who kept repeating "I feel so awful. I feel so awful." Holding her hand and telling her that I heard her and I wouldn't leave until she felt better. Turning off the light and kneeling there until she fell asleep--looking so small and so frail. Wondering who would be there to hold her hand when she woke up.

Gently embracing the sobbing 85yr. old woman whose daughter had just died. Rocking rhythmically back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Providing warmth. Comfort. "She was such a good girl...such a good girl..."

The weary CNA confiding in me in the back room that she was tired. Drained I think was the exact word. Physically and emotionally drained. But reporting that at least she had "good Karma." The empty look on her face. Searching. The prayer under my breath, simply that she would "see Jesus."

Holy Ground. אדמה קדשׁ.

Moments where the presence of God is so unmistakable that I feel the incomprehensible urge to stop whatever I am doing and remove my sandals. Fall to my knees. Moments where everything seems to move in slow motion and I can almost hear the melody from heaven.

"Holy holy holy is the Lord Almighty.
Who was and is and is to come." ׁ

Moments where my heart is filled to the point of bursting. My skin feels like it's on fire. Words fail me. The knot in my throat contains the groan in my spirit.

When, in the depths of my spirit, arises an unshakable question born out of reverent awe and terror. I timidly ask, "Lord who are you? What is your name?"

היה אשׁר היה

"I am what I am...I will be what I will be."

Holy Ground.