Do you ever feel like you have wasted countless moments in the pursuit of the American, white picket fence dream? I find it suffocating, this keeping up business. Sometimes more is just more and vast rooms decorated with the finest can’t satisfy an empty heart trying to find another thing to make the unhappiness disappear. Sure, I would love some more space in my tiny cottage but I refuse to trade things for time when all I really want is for my time to count.
Didn’t Peter say, “Silver and gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you…in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk.” (Acts 3:6)
Money is spent and pockets are sometimes empty, but a bold prayer is never wasted on hearts willing to give up and walk.
If I had more money I would place it in your hand and cup your hand in mine…and wonder if it’s enough. Perhaps in that moment I could just love on you and pray like a beggar in the streets with an empty cup knowing that is the kind of desperate prayer that will shake the heavens and truly change things for the better.
I wonder if we’ve stopped walking in a place where our shadows could actually heal people, a place where we say that we will pray for others and then we don’t because our hearts have been hollowed out by a grownup, mass production of getting things done quicker.
Could we both give of our time and our money and beg for God to do the miraculous in and through us?
I have to believe that we can and that we must.
No one should waste these last days, this unfolding of time where the news rocks us to our core and reminds us that maybe, just maybe, the end is closer that we think.
Maybe God wants to unsettle our comfortable Christianity where we trade things and “more” for being someone we are proud of. A legacy of loving each other more than we love ourselves while we walk this dusty minefield of life. I just want to be so good at being the least of these that I don’t even know how to walk to the front of the line. I want to be the girl who is fine with being last because I don’t want to miss one single thing that God has in store for me waiting in the back of the serving line. Hollowed out hearts with their hands out their eyes ask a question, “Do you see me?”
“If there is a God, I need you to show Him to me.”
And sometimes we walk on by and try to avoid eye contact because it’s less messy and we don’t have to exercise uncomfortable, walking on water faith.
To say God has been dealing with my heart about this would be an understatement. He is in the business of rearranging my space and stopping me in my tracks…and I feel awakened and like my heart is being excavated. And it hurts.
She asked me if I was busy and if I had the time.
I looked around like, “Who, me?”
Our eyes met and I noticed her desperation, her car filled front-to-back with plastic bags and everything she owned in one, broken down car. It’s summertime so sweat happens, but she was covered in sweat and had swollen ankles.
“Yes, I have time. How can I help?”
She needed gas to get her to the next place; I knew I could help her and that I was supposed to make the time. So I did. I told her I would follow her to the gas station and pump her gas for her. Somehow she knew that I would follow her and make good on my word. I called my baby sister and asked her to pray. We’ve been doing crazy things like this for a long time. We come from a long line of givers; our Grandpa would have given you the shirt off his back. Sometimes I feel like he’s still with me when I lavishly give what I can.
It was still daylight when I pumped her gas and we talked for a little while as she shared her story. And I wanted to fix it and her, I wanted to take out all her plastic bags and figure out a better place to put them. I wanted to find her a place where her feet could rest and the swelling could subside while the sweat dried and her heart was truly tended to.
She looked at me as I finished pumping her gas and said, “You’re really brave.”
I nodded almost choking on my words, “I am brave.”
We smiled a slow, sad smile. She said something about Christian love and I don’t even remember what I said as we parted ways, but I cried all the way home with the cool air blowing in my face and my trunk full of groceries and a few things I didn’t need.
Why on earth would she look at me, all five-foot-four of me in my cute outfit pumping her gas, and see a brave girl inside of me?
I can’t for the life of me remember the words we shared, all I can remember is how her words wrecked me and how her brown eyes pierced through mine as she called me by my new name. Brave.
I want to be that kind of brave everyday, because time is short and I don’t know what tomorrow holds. So maybe if we take ahold of one brave moment at a time and be the girl that has the time to care…maybe we could change the world and live a life that matters.
No more safe picket fences.
No more wasting of time.
No more avoiding eye contact because the pain seems like more than we can handle.
No more, I’m sorry…I just don’t have the time.
Just you and me with our wrecked, brave hearts grasping for unearthed miracles waiting as God excavates our hearts to make room a life that is set apart to be His hands and feet.
Be brave with me, will you? I can’t do this without you.