Homesickness made new, and a different kind of grief

Recently, I realized that I've been re-learning how to cry.

There is a lot to be sad about here on Earth. There always has been, but in this modern age, large swaths of people live almost isolated from the deep stress of constant sorrow. A lot of people who live pretty happy lives are finding this out unexpectedly, as coronavirus starts to touch every aspect of our lives.

Emotions are good, God-given aspects of humanity that help us decide what to do with the time we have. But because we live in a fallen world, deeply rotten as a result of sin, which has worked itself into the DNA of every aspect of life on Earth, emotions often go haywire, lead people to do things that they aren't meant to, and become pools of misery that leave us useless and in despair.

Before Jesus, when I was sad or in pain or anxious or angry enough to cry, there was no nuance, no complexity in the emotion. It hurt, and it seemed like nothing and no one could comfort me. The act of crying only made me feel worse. It was like a feedback loop of misery. It had no point, and it had no end. I would usually drink to make it stop, and then sleep, and hope that would be enough to reboot my emotional situation.

But now, sometimes when I find myself crying, grieving from the center of my being, I can't always tell where the emotion is coming from. It's not always situational or specific. This sorrow now turns into a heart's cry to my Lord. In fact, I am coming to think that this unnamable grief is the Holy Spirit's touch, turning me to lean against my God. Sometimes He goes on to show me something specific to grieve and pray about, and other times I'm just sitting in a whirl of emotional needs, open and reaching out to Him. And there's a point to that, because they are needs that only He can fill. And He will.

That's when my grief takes a turn. I may still be crying, holding my gut in the pain of grief, but I also feel the soothing touch of joy. An equally confusing joy, because it is joy in a future sense, experienced in the present, amid a very present and immediate sorrow.

So I don't fear sadness the way I used to. I cry often, and freely, and it is often in sorrow that I feel closest to the Lord, where I experience His mind-blowing love for me. For humanity, yes, but for ME personally.

In Ephesians 3, Paul prayed for us all to have this realization, because in it there is POWER: "14For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, 15from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, 16that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, 17so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, 18may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, 19and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God."

To KNOW that the Lord loves you totally...that is to be filled with all the fullness of God. That is power. And that is the only thing that is going to get us through this deeply grieving time on Earth.

I get the sense that, because we are joined, bound, united to Jesus, He lets us experience His own emotions in a visceral way. He, more than anyone, understands the complexity of emotion that is to be "exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death," and yet full of joy. And He wants to bring us into HIS understanding of sorrow and joy, so that we have the strength to bear the present while learning to look through it, toward the joy that we WILL have with Him, who bought it for us.

Jesus was homesick, too, during the time He spent on Earth, away from the Father, lonely, poor, misunderstood and reviled, weak in His humanity and headed toward a horrible death. THE death, His battleground where He would defeat Death for all of us.

Why did Jesus grit His teeth and set His face "like flint" to go to that death? Because He longed for us! He longs for us the way we were always meant to be, the way we are not yet, as He has seen us - fully like Him, and able to see Him in full. He has longed for us since before He created the world. And nothing will keep Him from having us. Not His death, and not ours. In fact, His death made it possible for us to be together! (Let that sink in). 

He said, "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. 28I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. 29My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. 30I and the Father are one." (John 10:27-30)

Before the foundation of the world. That's a long time to wait for us, even though to Him time is very different. But He experienced time the way we do while He lived here on Earth as the Word made flesh. So He understands on a cellular level what it feels like when our whole being, our every cell cries out, "I WANT TO GO HOME!"

My Lord Jesus is my home, the one I've been missing my whole life. And I really, really want to go home.

But even as my heart wells with the unbearable longing ache to be with my Savior, I realize that He has transformed even the feeling of homesickness, and sorrow.

I used to feel homesick for my parents' home back in Buffalo. For feeling safe and being a kid with no responsibilities, to curl up in comfortable furniture with my family.

Then, when we moved to Vietnam, I missed Oregon, the fresh air and our cozy apartments and cats, the ease of living in a place where I understood the language and friends and family were only a few hours away and not thousands of miles and half a day apart timewise.

But I can't ever go back to being a kid, living under my parents' roof. Even visiting is not the same. Visits end. And with climate change and people moving and now the disease ripping through the world, even Oregon will not be the same again. People change. People die.

But now...I'm homesick for a home and a Someone that will never change, has never changed, and has known and loved me since before the world began, before I knew Him, before He called me to Him. And I know that I am headed home. That is my end point. It is guaranteed, no matter what happens in the meantime.

And my heart cries out simultaneously in longing and satisfaction, in sorrow and joy. Longing, because I am not yet complete, and cannot physically be with Jesus, and I want more than anything to curl up in His arms and never leave. Satisfaction, because in the meantime I can get to know Him better, and know that no matter what, I will get home. He will get me home. Sorrow, because that homesickness is real, even if it isn't attached to a place on earth anymore, and I still have human emotions, and there is a LOT to grieve right now. Joy, because the end game is HIM, and HIM for all time. Once I'm with Him, there will be no goodbye, no end to the visit, no loneliness or fear or pain. Just joy.

I can bear up a little longer, knowing that.

*UPDATE 4/3/2020 * Yesterday we learned that my husband's grandfather was sick with COVID19 and had chosen to stop treatment. Today he died. To realize that the Holy Spirit was preparing me for this...I can't stop praising God for His provision and comfort during this time. Praise His Holy Name! And if you don't know Him yet, please ask Him to reveal Himself to you. He will. And you NEED Him. 

Food and fellowship in the time of coronavirus

In this strange new world of "social distancing", the concepts of community and fellowship are being re-examined. In a way, this age is uniquely suited for this baffling situation: with social media, instant messaging, video chats, etc, we are far more able to stay in touch than ever before. But some things fall flat in front of a screen. Like communal meals, for example. There's nothing like sharing a meal with family or good friends, getting together around a table, sharing the same dishes. Cooking together, cleaning up.

And now that our churches are meeting online, the question of what to do about the Lord's Supper has been weighing on me. Since September, I have come to deeply cherish celebrating the remembrance of Christ and His sacrifice this way. My church celebrates once per month, a frequency that makes me glad. If I'm honest, I wish it were more often. The extra special fellowship with Jesus and the rest of His body always feels so poignant and necessary, as does the preparation of my heart beforehand.

The last time we held communion was the last in-person service that we will have in what could be a long time. And so I wonder: how will I celebrate the Lord in this way during this time of separation? I found myself thinking about this today, and I imagined myself eating a cracker and drinking a cup of juice on my own, which just didn't seem right. I suppose it's possible that my church might hold a communion in the online service. In a time like this, I don't suppose the Lord would mind if some of us remembered Him with whatever we have on hand.

But if not?

I may have mentioned that one of the times I feel the Lord's presence most strongly is when I'm cooking. Chopping vegetables or preparing meat, mixing spices, stirring soup - somehow, He and I come together over the stove and chopping board. I find myself asking Him to make the meal more delicious than I could hope to make on my own, and then telling Him about the day, whatever thoughts are on my mind at the time. It becomes precious. I feel Him draw near, and I bask in the warmth of His pleasure in my simple, home-nourishing task.

I don't know what it is about cooking that brings about this ease and closeness with Jesus, but I'll tell you one thing: it makes me want to cook more often! Maybe it has something to do with all the time the Lord spent communing with His disciples over food (and the flak He got from the Pharisees for doing so!), the miracles He performed around food (which all pointed to Him being the Bread of Life, and the new wine of the covenant of His blood, anyway), the precious dinner in Bethany where Mary sat at His feet instead of helping Martha cook, the Last Supper of course. And then there were the meals shared with Him after His resurrection: with the disciples on the road to Emmaeus, cooking breakfast for His inner circle on the beach... Maybe it also has to do with His instruction to Peter to feed His sheep, as He gently restored Peter to service after his denial of Jesus.

Whatever it is, I feel it. And the overwhelming feeling I get is one of thankfulness that I get to spend time with Him this way, that He likes to commune with me in this simple, necessary act. That, in the process of making all things new, Jesus has reclaimed a little bit of daily life usually classified as "work" and made it a little slice of heaven for me.

And as I wait expectantly for the Lord in the midst of this unfolding global tragedy, so long as I have resources to cook, I will cook and pray, think about these things, and commune with the Lord, whether I can take communion or not. And when this quarantine is over, I hope to invite more people over to our home for dinner and fellowship.

Beloved

This word has slowly been gaining on my consciousness. For a long time, I only thought of it in terms of the "beloved disciple" from the Gospel of John. He was singled out as being especially close to Jesus: "the disciple whom Jesus loved" who leaned back against Him during the Last Supper (John 13:23-25). They had a particularly deep friendship that, for whatever reason, rose above those He had with the rest of His disciples.

The Gospel of John has meant a lot to me, because God literally placed it in front of me like an enormous love letter, packaged as science fiction (which story, as soon as I write it out, I will link back to this post). As I came to know Jesus personally, and as He became more and more precious to me, I found myself getting a little jealous of the beloved disciple. I mean, the guy had the honor and privilege to CUDDLE the Son of God. JEALOUS.

But the more I read in the Bible, the more I see that the beloved disciple is so much more than a real human singled out for special friendship with God. Rather, the few times he's mentioned (only a handful) are there so that we have a PRECEDENT for how close we can-- and should-- be to Jesus. There are invitations, suggestions, and commands (honestly, if you're a grammar nerd you'd be quick to point out all the verbs that are in the imperative) to get close to Him.

"Be still and rest in the Lord; wait for Him and patiently lean yourself upon Him..." (Psalm 37:7).

To lean on Him the way the beloved disciple does is not merely an invitation, but an order. I don't have to go shyly to Him for a hug; I should run up to him and press close while I wait for Him to move in my life, to make me like Him, to work in me and through me.

Obviously, we can't physically hug Him, but if you have believed His words and are putting your faith in Him, Jesus is in you. And you are also in Him. We have been united, grafted together. So resting and leaning is more than a simple human embrace. It is being aware of having been totally absorbed by and into Christ.

In the beginning

These are the very first panels of my comic series, Indwelling Sword! I'll be using this blog to post small episodes of the comic, talk about my process, more in-depth thoughts about the various Scriptures that have inspired me to illustrate, and address any questions/issues that come up as a result of this work.

I'm very excited to be on this journey, and I hope you will join me!

Sarah

Why I "gave up" writing, and what happened afterwards...

I've started this post a bunch of different ways. The fact that I still don't know what I want to say, or how to say it, makes me laugh. Because I came here to tell you about how I decided to "give up writing".

For those of you who know me, this might sound shocking. For as long as I can remember, I've considered myself "a writer". It's been a huge part of my identity since... well, probably grade school.

Words. Language. From the time I learned how to read, I've rarely been without a book in my hand, or a notebook and pen. I've taken French, Latin, Greek, and a smidge of Italian and Vietnamese. I LOVE LANGUAGE. I even got an MFA in creative writing. So it made sense that I would work with words forever, right?

Except that isn't what's happened. For starters, I am TERRIBLE at finishing anything. Poems, stories, novels, essays, blogs...it's all DRUDGERY to me. But the desire to create and tell stories has remained constant, so much so that it drives me crazy that all my writing ideas seem to fizzle out.

So when I came to Christ in September, I immediately began trying to capture my new relationship with Him in words. I have probably written thousands of journal pages...but not much I would want to share, or that would be coherent to anyone but me. And God, of course. He can make sense of my mess.

But the problem is, I WANT to share this experience. I want to tell everyone what I've been learning, and how precious Jesus is to me, and how He has been transforming my life by entering every single part of it, in some really surprising ways.

As I have been reading the Bible and getting closer to God, He has from time to time brought certain ideas to the forefront of my mind. One of those ideas was the fact that He is remaking me, from my own person into His own perfect plan for my person. And part of that process has involved Him stripping away many parts of my identity - as I have understood it - and replacing them. I've had to become aware of these areas that He has wanted to tinker with, and then allow Him to make the changes. He doesn't just yank things away without my permission, but I've come to understand that if I want to grow, to know Him better, and to see the amazing things He has planned for me, I have to let go of some old, old, dearly held beliefs.