Spirit Rising

For the SPIRIT God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love, and self-discipline.

 --2 Timothy 1:7 (emphasis added)

Spirit.  The word evokes delight, fear, misunderstanding, and awe.  For Christians, the Spirit is one part of the Holy Trinity.  It's the part that gives us the wisdom and direction we need for daily living.  Jesus gave us the gift of the Holy Spirit when he rose from the dead and ascended Heaven.

During my daughter's hour long dance class on Wednesdays, I normally bring something to read, and I'm in the middle of this amazing book that's helping me understand how the Spirit moves in the world.  I have a different book with me every week, so it's not unusual for one of the other moms to ask me about what I'm reading.  But when this particular mom asked me about the book of the week, I felt my stomach do a little flip.

"It's Spirit Rising by Jim Cymbala.  I tried to act casual, but I knew she wasn't a Christian, so I wasn't sure what to say next.

"Oh", she said, "My dad believes in that stuff".

I hesitated.  I didn't feel very bold, and yet the words "Do you?" came out of my mouth.

She paused for a moment before answering, then shook her head.  "I don't know what I believe.  I don't believe in anything.  Or I guess I kind of believe in everything".

"God"? 

"Yes, but I think he has a lot of different names".

I probed further.  "Jesus?"
 
"No.  I used to be Jewish.  I like what Buddha teaches.  I like it that there's no Hell."

"Yes", I agreed.  "Who wouldn't like that?  I wish it were true."

She looked amused.

We ended up talking for an entire hour.  I mainly just listened.  Here was a woman--broken, hurt, and seeking.  She's probably a lot like me, but I have one thing she doesn't--the Spirit.  And that has made all the difference.

As she told me her sad story, my heart began to beat faster, and I felt it breaking for her.  I prayed, "Oh, God.  Don't let me screw this up.  Spirit, tell me what to do.  Tell me what to say."  I felt like I was holding onto this woman with my pinkie finger as she dangled from a cliff over the great abyss.  I knew there was nothing I could say that could convince her that Jesus is real.

"I'm open to anything, though", she blurted.

"Would you ever go to a church?," I asked.

"Oh, I've been to church.  Many times.  I would go again, but not yet.  I'm too messed up.  I've got too much anger.  I'm not ready".

I wanted to make her understand that only God could bind up those wounds and heal them forever, but I confessed that the only way for me to do that was to tell her about what God has done in my own life and what I've seen him do in the lives of the people I know.

"Don't worry.  I'm working on me.  Lots of people are working on me.  Counselors, psychologists...."  Her voice trailed off, but I was still thinking.

Tears were beginning to well up in my eyes, and I didn't want her to see me cry.  But oh, how I wanted her to understand how much God loves her!

She interrupted my thoughts again.  "I promise you this, though.  When I am ready, I'll definitely come to you."

Did she really say she was going to come to me when she is ready?  Not if, but when she's ready?

"Ok", I said.  "As long as you promise,  I'll wait for you."

We shook on it.

How wonderful it would have been if she had given her life over to Christ right there on the spot!  We could have prayed together like two happy souls boldly slamming shut the gates of Hell!  Yet, that is not what I heard the Spirit telling me to do. The Bible says the fruit of the Spirit is love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control, so I'm confident that I experienced the Spirit at work today.  I'm pretty sure the Spirit can't be rushed.

"I pinkie promise."  She intertwined her pinkie with mine, and I held it  there in the grips of another prayer.  "Oh, Lord.  Spare her.  Give her time.  Show her that you're real before it's too late.  Don't let her fall off of this cliff."

Leave Your Mark

Every morning, I take my dog Hammy for a walk.  This morning, there were a few other dogs playing together at the end of the street.  Hammy stopped, they all sniffed each other, and we continued on our way.  On the way back down the street, thankfully we did not encounter the other dogs.  There's actually quite a little canine hierarchy--Hammy barks at Wimberly, Georgia snaps at Hammy, Trestle chases Hammy, and Hammy abuses Hazelnut.  To my great relief, they had all gone home for breakfast.  Still, Hammy stopped where they had been, sniffed, then promptly peed on that tiny piece of earth.  He just had to leave his mark.

It's the same way with our kids.  As they grow older and work to distance themselves from us, what they're really doing is screaming, "I'm here!"  They're territorial over the things that belong to them and work tirelessly to prove that they have their own style and sometimes even their own language.  I don't mind it.  I don't always understand it.  But I don't mind it.  I want them to spend the years they have with me figuring out who they are and their purpose in the world.  Better to do that now when Gavin and I can help guide them than when they leave our home for good and find the world a cold and selfish place.

I guess all living creatures share a desire to "leave their mark."  We all want to make a difference in the world.  I think that's one of the reasons why it's so patronizing for a stay-at-home mother to hear the words, "You have the hardest job in the world.  You are right where you need to be."  Those words carry some truth, but in addition to leaving my legacy to my children, I also have a desire to do something great in the world. 

To that point, I am in the midst of a fascinating book called The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks.  Lacks was a cancer patient at Johns Hopkins in the 1950s when her cells (named HeLa) were taken without her knowledge,  then grown and sold and multiplied a million times over.  Her family, living in poverty and without health insurance, found out about the cells more than twenty years later.  In this book by Rebecca Skloot, they assert that what they now want most of all is for the world to know that Henrietta Lacks was a real person.  Her cells made her famous, but to her children, the heart and soul of the woman they knew as "mom" matters most of all.

The Bible teaches us that God is enough, that we don't have to spend our days proving to ourselves or anyone else that we are capable of great things.  Even though I know that's true, I've also always felt the faintest bit of discontent.  It's one thing to know that God is all I need, but it's quite another to realize that he made me to do something and to be something.  Just because the Holy Spirit lives in me doesn't give me permission to sit around on my rear all day and contemplate life.  Quite the opposite.  The Holy Spirit in me should literally be inspiring me to be everything God intended. 

One day, my children will want to know who I was and what I did.  What did I care about?  Who did I love? What did I fight for?  How did I live?   I want them to know that God was and is enough for me and that all the things I ever did were not in an effort to please people but to experience for myself and share fully with others the blessings God gave to me. 

Where will you leave your mark, and how will you make it count?