TWLOHA

pain is an interesting part of life.

i remember when donald miller wrote blue like jazz. the things he spoke of stirred up that isaiah 61 calling we all have if we follow Jesus. it was inspiring, the kind of thing that makes you feel like you are seeing things for the first time. then there was a group that took his words and put them into action [to write love on her arms]. the benefits go to helping battered teens who suffer with depression, anxiety, cutting, etc. it was one more way to be a part of "being in it". just like invisible children. just like the soup kitchen or the random hot coffee.

but then i started house of hope. it is hard to explain the reaction of a soul when it becomes face to face with sheer agony. pain that you are not responsible for nor can you heal, yet you are choosing to be a part of it...to step right in it with them. there is every urge to run, to stuff it, to rationalize it, to do whatever you can mentally to cope with the reality of this girl's situation.

and yet, i can't run. i can't ignore it. i can't hold it at arm's length. there is this compelling force in my heart that says stay. just walk with her. be the mirror that shows her how He sees her. it's like photo overlays...the one with her broken skin and rounded shoulders and weighted eyes, the bound up soul and hazy mind and then there's the one of her as she was meant to be....laughing and light and lovely. my job is to keep the latter before me and the truth anchoring my every word.

i mean, what does it look like to literally write love on her arms? it's not a benefit or a t-shirt or a banner...it's her bleeding wrists and hips, leading up to her chained heart. part of me is terrified. yet in it all i know that He is the one who heals and sets free. i have to let Him be who He is.

i am learning so many new things.