Her Diamonds

You make beautiful things,

You make beautiful things out of dust.

You make beautiful things,

You make beautiful things out of us.

Beautiful Things, Gungor

He stood on the edge of the pier, watching the ocean stretching before him.  He had walked on this pier many times, but today was different.  He was different.

He felt finite against the great expanse, and his thoughts wandered, leaving a valley of despair in their path.

How could anyone ever love me?

His disease was eating away his body, and now his soul was being suffocated by an overwhelming sadness.

As more thoughts crowded his worried mind, he heard delicate footsteps approaching him from behind.

“Luke,” her soft voice settled the waves of his heart.  She hugged him tightly.  He had been seeing Ruth for a few weeks, his affection for her growing with each visit.

As they sat together admiring the horizon, it felt as if only minutes had passed.  It always felt like that with Ruth.  With her laugh, the warmth in her eyes, her peaceful demeanor, and her tender caress, time held no function.  It was only as the sun dipped below the sapphire waves that he knew their evening was coming to an end.

They sat, a grateful audience to God’s artwork—a sky alit in hues of deep purples and oranges—and their conversation continued, the topic of love surfacing like a shy buoy.

“It’s so precious,” Ruth marveled.  “When you find love, it’s something to be treasured…something to honor.”

His heart instantly swelled with obligation.  She deserves to know, he thought, sadness welling in him from anticipated loss.  Questions swarmed.  His hope tried to repel from the agonizing fear, but it sank deep into his heart, causing fractures in his soul.

Will she leave me?  Will she run?  Will she feel betrayed?  Misled?  Disgusted?  Could she ever love me?

He pulled away from her sweet grasp, and felt the door to his secret unhinging.  Tears swallowed his brown eyes.  Confusion colored her face.

“Ruth, there’s something I need to tell you,” his gaze focused on the ground.  Grief showed itself in the corners of his eyes.

“What is it?” she whispered, her soft spirit enveloping his.

Only seconds passed, but it felt like an eternity.  Finally, his soul resigned.

“I have Cancer.”

He braced for rejection, but instead was met with love.  To his surprise, she even laughed a little.  As she continued to smile, his confusion grew.  He watched her, waiting to understand.

“I have it, too,” she sighed, meek and transparent.

He took her into his arms.  Waves of relief washed over them as they embraced.

In that single moment, they were as one, comforted in knowing their struggles were the same.  They held each other into the night on that pier.  Sunset had turned into nightfall, and they were carried away by the decorated sky.  Each star God hung in the heavens that night represented all the days, past, present, and future, that they never had and never would again spend alone or unloved.

Their past destined them to be together.

Their present brought them together.

Their future promised unity and eternity.

God has a plan.  Your moments of emptiness and loneliness are the same moments God is using to bless your future.  The antithesis for love is loneliness.  The antithesis for emptiness is waiting.  Time holds no meaning for either.  Trust God.  Thank God.

Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil (Ecclesiastes 4:9).

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:6-7).

Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap not gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? (Matthew 6:25-27).

Suffocated Prayers

Like water on the sand or grasping at the wind

I keep falling short, so please be my strength

Please be my strength ‘cause I don’t have anymore

I don’t have anymore

Please Be My Strength, Gungor

My eyes opened to see the ghostly light dancing on the ceiling of my living room.

I had fallen asleep hours earlier, waking up occasionally to the sound of the thunderstorm outside my window.

At this hour, the storm had passed, leaving only the moonlight to greet my interrupted slumber.

In the deep darkness of that shadowed room, I fought to focus on the small whispers of light sashaying above me.

My eyes struggled to hold them.

My heart was too heavy to bear my consciousness any longer, and I wept.  I prayed for the darkness to swallow my sadness, to suffocate it.  I prayed for sleep—to run from the searing pain I was feeling.

Mercy came like a soft blanket, and I slept.

My life has changed, and throughout all the hours of my days, I am struggling to know if it is for better or worse.

Lost in Space

Within the last few weeks, two people with whom I was acquainted have passed away.  I knew neither of them intimately—or even at all.  Our interactions were rare, our paths crossing only a few times.  With their passing, the moments we shared suddenly possessed more depth.

A smile, the flow of his wrist as he writes, the movement of his hand as he pours a drink, the twinkle of his eye as he laughs—those moments are lost, never again be shared.

When I was a teenager, I loved the movie American Beauty.  The disgusted daughter, the broken wife, the struggling father, the dark son, the promiscuous cheerleader—I fell in love with their pain, identifying with each character’s despair.  Many years later, watching this movie again, I connected to it differently.  Instead of pain, I saw peace.

I found myself moved as Kevin Spacey, who plays the main character Lester Burnham, passed away.  In his death, there was so much beauty.  That may sound cryptic to the world, but as a Christian I saw it in a much different light.

It was two months ago when I listened to Matt Chandler, pastor of The Village Church in Texas, speak on Ecclesiastes 7:1.

A good name is better than precious ointment,

And the day of death than the day of birth.

In America, it is inherently understood that birth is beautiful.  It represents a hope linked to potential, and the promise of potential is the very basis of our culture.  So when Chandler revealed the beauty in death, I was initially surprised because to Americans, death is the end.

“But death, death for the believer is about fulfillment.  It's like, in that moment, I've got all that Christ had for me, like all that He wanted me to know, all that He wanted me to experience, all that He wanted me to feel and know and do, that I am full, that I've got all that He wanted me to drink.  And so, He pulls me out.”

I welcomed that thought into my heart.  It is radical to think of death as the beginning.  Chandler says it is more glorious to focus on the beauty of a life lived instead of the sadness in losing it.  In American Beauty, as Lester’s monologue closes the movie, he reflects on the beautiful moments that captivated his heart—the moments that were the very essence of his life.

Our life here is a temporary setting.  Let us be grateful for the moments we share with those we love.  Let us be grateful for the small joys in this life.  Let us be soothed in knowing that once this beauty comes to end that our hearts are collected and reunited with the One Who is more beautiful than our minds can fathom.

Let our hearts be soothed when loved ones pass, and grateful in our knowledge that death is the beginning.

“I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me, but it’s hard to stay mad when there’s so much beauty in the world.  Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once, and it’s too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst, and then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life.  You have no idea what I’m talking about, I’m sure, but don’t worry.  You will someday.” Lester Burnham, American Beauty

“Earth is only a temporary residence…Your identity is in eternity, and your homeland is Heaven.” Rick Warren, The Purpose-Driven Life

“If you stole my computer from me, we would hunt you down, but before that, if you clicked on Microsoft Word and you scrolled through my documents, you would find one in there called ‘Don't Cry for Me.’  And that document exists just in case I die.  And what that is, is any time I have that moment, anytime there's that moment that just resonates with my soul, I go put a one sentence blurb in that document.  It's about three and a half pages long now…and the very last line of this document always reads the same, ‘Don't cry for me, I'm home.’” Matt Chandler, The Village Church

As we look not to the things that are seen, but to the things that are unseen.  For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal (2 Corinthians 4:18).

Jamie’s Don’t Cry for Me List

Swallowed By Sin

Heal my heart and make it clean

Hosanna, Hillsong

His eyes cast a dark shadow over me.

My arms shielded my body, trying to cover myself—trying to cover my sin.

Where there once laid a sweet smile, his lips were now turned down in disgust.

I had admired him from afar for many months.  A young, ambitious pastor, I always looked forward to seeing him.  He was endearing, delicate grace abounding in his spirit.  I always anticipated his visits, because I could see Christ’s unconditional love in him.

But I was wrong.  And today was different.

It was our first date, and he had learned my deepest darkest secrets.

I will never forget the look on his face, the tone in his voice—the rejection.

I felt naked, humiliated, and unloved.

If the man I had come to respect as a Christ-centered man could not bear the sight of me, then how possibly could God still love me?

I wilted at the thought and fell deeper into isolation and fear.  As he walked away from me, I sobbed, wondering who could ever love a sinner like me.

In my nightmares is where I’m tortured the most.