The following reflection was written by Sunflower.
The following thoughts have been stirring over and over lately in my head, my heart, and in my talks with my husband. Many of my conversations with him are about the community of believers, how they have or have not handled our particular journey well, and what we will or will not do if we are faced with a couple going through something that reflects our path.
Honestly, as I stare at the computer screen, I am still not sure how to say what is deep in my heart, causing me so much pain and frustration. I do know that I have been extremely hurt by the “audience” of believers that God has placed in my life. I use the term audience because that is what they are: they look, watch, judge, and predict. They cheer and clap when they think I have done something good, and boo and yell when they think I have made a wrong move. They are an audience because their involvement in my healing has been minimal.
They feel safer from a distance. They wait for me to enter their territory so that they can really “meet me where I am” and offer “healing words, and spiritual food.” They stand at the door, yelling for their lost sheep (me), and if yelling doesn’t work they try a whistle, or maybe a bell, or maybe silence, or maybe a treat…when nothing proves to work, they drop their head in disappointment that their lost sheep has wondered off the wrong path, close the door, and continue on. They may stop and think about me for a moment, but the thought is brief because they have too many sheep they are trying to keep track of and they are responsive while I am the sheep that is not, so it is best just to “move on” to those who will respond.
I do hear their calls, the whistle, the bell, and actually think the treat sounds quite good, but I am caught in a bush, its thistles and vines wrapped so tightly around my legs and I cannot move. I try yelling, but they are too distracted or impatient to hear my weak and quiet voice; I try responding, but it is not the response they expected so they miss it. I am tired. I am tired of trying, of fighting, and so I lie down and wait.
Christ comes. He slowly and precisely cuts each branch, vine, and thistle that has wrapped around my aching body and broken heart. He knows I am disappointed, that I have been left alone, and he keeps telling me how sorry he is. He gently lifts my broken body from the bush and starts to tend to my wounds, only the way a healer and a maker can. He sings gentle songs in my ears and whispers his love and promises to my heart. As I continue to heal, as he continues the healing, our hearts start beating as one. He stands me up and places his hands on my shoulder and looks into my eyes.
“Daughter, you have been disappointed; I know, I am disappointed too. I will never leave you and I will always come and find you, but now you have to make a choice. Are you going to be one of the many people in the audience of others’ lives, or are you going to be a participant? I don’t need another person to fill a seat and watch; I need someone who will be in the play. I know you are hurt, and it is your choice…but I will always come and find you.”