Fairly Tumultuous

Over the last few weeks, I have been helping with a Bible study at my local church for people exploring Christianity. Ironically, the one American attending the study was randomly assigned to my group. Susan is in many ways an embarrassing American stereotype. She is a bit loud, a bit abrasive and a bit more familiar than Brits are comfortable with. Shamefully, tonight (our fourth week) was the first time I really spoke with her.

We were making friendly small talk about her family and work, then somehow we began talking about her personal life. And she told me the story of how after 4 daughters and 20 years of marriage her husband had left her for a younger woman. She very casually described that period of her life as "fairly tumultuous". I responded that tumultuous must be a rather mild description of it. And then she said one of the saddest things I have ever heard.

She said that in four and a half years, that was the most sympathetic thing anyone has said to her about the dissolution of her family.

I couldn't help but fight back tears as I looked at this woman, so broken and hurting with no one to embody Christ's compassion in her life. And I thought of how wrong that is, how God's heart must break when he sees her living her life so alone.

I believe that as Christians our role in the world is to be agents of restoration. That we are to be God's hands in healing brokenness and showing mercy. But as I sat and listened to Susan's very real pain, I was challenged afresh by how incapable I am of accomplishing that on my own.

How It Is

There is a new installation at the Tate Modern in London by Miroslaw Balka, called "How It Is". The installation is basically this: a giant metal box lined with felt into which people can walk. As you enter the box, the world around you gets progressively darker. The people you have entered with get harder and harder to sense, even thought they are only 6 inches away. And when you reach the end, you are are staring into a dizzying and disorienting darkness that seems to go on forever. I have heard that the artist has described being inside the box as "the state of society today."

During a walk along the river today, I experienced "How It Is". I have never experienced anything like it.

As I walked further and further into the box, I felt an ever-increasing sense of dread, fear and confusion. All I wanted was to reach out to someone and know that I was not alone. When I reached the end of the box and was staring straight into the pitch-black felt, I felt that there must be no end to the blackness. I found myself touching the felt wall several times just to remind myself that there was an end to it, and as soon as I felt the end the room stopped spinning.

And all I could think of, was that every day, all around me, Londoners live in a sense of isolation just like the one I was feeling. They live in a world of darkness and confusion, never knowing when it would end.

After leaving the box, I stood for some time and watched my friend playing with his one-year-old son just outside the exhibit. You could tell by the way he looked at his little boy, and by the way the boy looked at him, how much my friend loves his son and how secure the boy feels in that love. And I was struck by the contrast between the two experiences, the box and the boy. And in that moment, I was toppled by the fact that we were all meant to experience the love that boy knew, and that just as much as my heart broke with the isolation of the box, God's heart breaks even more over the isolation and fear and loneliness so much of the world feels everyday.

Snowball

You know when to describe something that made perfect sense to you, but you couldn't find the words? So you do your best to describe it using almost the right words. But then all of the sudden the imperfect words start to define the idea and it takes on a direction of its own. And then it snowballs into something you never intended?

This has been kind of the situation for me since arriving here in Britain. I have had a very clear picture in my head of who I feel called to for a while, and I have spent the last year trying to find the words to create a picture for everyone I've left behind. The best word I could find was Creatives.

Here is an example of who I meant:

I have a friend who was a dancer when she was younger, but was injured and had to stop. She now works for her local government overseeing projects aimed at at-risk youth. She doesn't dance much any more, but her soul still longs for and is fed by the creative.

And it is a common theme. Many more people have creative souls than are actually working in the creative arts industries. Unfortunately, in London Creatives are the people who work in the arts and media. So I landed myself in a trajectory that I never intended, simply by using one word. And I have spent a chunk of my time here following that trajectory but not feeling quite right about it.

Yet another life lesson I suppose.

So allow me to elaborate further on what I meant all alone.

Just like my friend the former dancer, or the artist that works as a teacher, or the former member of a Christian girl-band. The realities of life are that lots of creative souls grow up to do ordinary, unglamourous jobs. But the beat of their heart for the creative still remains. Some of them are Christians and some are not. But all of them long to find a way to connect who they are deep down with the practical demands of the life they live.

I was having coffee yesterday with a colleague who is in London for a few days. He used to work as a bartender, and he described to me the way night after night he would see people who felt suffocated by the 9-5 jobs they worked come in and drink. They spent all day in a cage and in the evening they needed to remember who they were, that deep down they were wild, passionate and free.

These are the people that I love. The people who are lost in a life that leaves them longing for more, unsure where to find it. The people whose souls cry out to be nurtured in a way that is meaningful to them.

There is a line in the David Bowie classic "Under Pressure" that illustrates who and what my heart beats for. I hope it helps you see who have been seeing for the last year.

"And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, and love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves."