Shock Waves Versus the Light
Do you long for Heaven?
Or is your life wonderful enough that you’d like more time here before you go?
I use to think, “I want to go home to Heaven — someday, but first I want to see my children grow up…hold grand babies in my arms…visit this place or that place…..”
But then I began to serve more people. People who had “stories” that would keep me awake at night. “Stories” that landed me in a good counselor’s office. “Stories” that don’t leave, once they happen, once their told, once their felt. I use to beat myself up (on the inside) because their “stories” hadn’t happened to me, and yet as I looked in their eyes and listened to their heart, it somehow then “happened” in mine. I had not felt the physical moment, but the impact of what had happened to them vibrated — like shock waves. The way Spain felt the shock waves from the recent earthquake in Morocco. It can happen that way for people too. When one heart shares its deepest pain with another heart…there are shock waves.
Shock waves make a soul long for Heaven.
Shock waves compel a soul to reach for more of Jesus…because the lateral disturbance has come too close. The vibrations of pain have rattled the walls and made all the pictures go crooked.
Usually, I don’t share the stories, the shock wave stories, that are in another person’s chapters. Why wouldn’t I tell others what has been shared with me? There are so many reasons…but none of them bring good feelings.
Sometimes I don’t share because some people respond with a casualness that I can’t bear to see. I know they likely do that because the reality is too much and they don’t know what to do with it…so they change the subject and tell a story about something benign and lighthearted that can lighten the air and maintain their needed level of comfort. And I understand…I truly do.
Sometimes I don’t share the stories because I fear having to see that not everyone actually cares. Perhaps they care…but perhaps not enough.
And then sometimes I don’t tell the stories because it feels like the sharing of it makes it become about us, and what we do, and it doesn’t stay focused on the real wounded person. And it needs to be about them. It’s suppose to be about them. I know that there is a chance that no one will know their stories if they are not told…but telling is hard.
Sometimes I don’t share the stories because I realize I’m with someone who loves the gruesomeness of the “tale”…like it’s a horror-drama on the screen. They’ve been desensitized by the stories on Hollywood’s cinemas, and so when it’s real, they have lost the ability to connect with their heart.
Shock waves of pain in one soul should rattle the souls of others.
And yet we must remain calm in the soul-vibrations so we are able to actually help the one(s) who get “hit”. The place of impact, the person, needs to feel the hands of Jesus and the care He will send through His willing children. We must care for the traumatized…even if their agony vibrates us to our core. And when those soul-vibrations come, we can then authentically walk through each and every syllable of 2 Corinthians 1:4-6, “He comforts us every time we have trouble so that when others have trouble, we can comfort them with the same comfort God gives us…” ERV
John Henry Jowett said it this way, “God does not comfort us to make us comfortable, but to make us comforters.”
The focus is wholeheartedly on the soul behind the eyes of the one the Lord has brought in front of us. The assignment is to give to them what has been given to us. The “story” is only the revealer of the depth of care that is needed. The story fades as the eyes glisten while the mouth shares of the massive soul-quake they’ve endured. And the shock-waves are felt in the soul of the one who listens. The listener’s breathing becomes laced with the Holy Words, “…be quick to hear, slow to speak , and slow to become angry…”(James 1:19)
And I believe the vibrations of quaking souls are ever and always felt in the throne-room of Heaven. Then angels are commissioned by the commander of the angel armies. For, “He rides across the Heaven’s to help us, across the skies in majesty”. (Deuteronomy 33:26) And sometimes skin covered servants are sent as well. Heaven does not ignore the cry.
Sometimes I don’t tell the “story”…until…the rest of the story is ready to be told. And the rest of the story is the part where Jesus comes in. Ultimately the “story” should be, is, and always will be about Him.
About 10 years ago Steve and I learned of a slum area near the seminary where we teach. Students in our class (who are Pastors), told us the horrific troubles of the people in the slum during a class presentation. We felt the earth quake when we heard the stories that impacted the children there. Ongoing. Nightmares that came night and day. Water was one of the problems. Long-drops (holes in the ground used as toilets) were another. Steve went to the slum along with some of our students and some staff from the seminary. Was it true? Were these horrific things happening less than a kilometer away?
Somber faces walked back up the road. Few words were spoken.
It was true — children were suffering — hell was laughing.
Prayer led the way and plans were made.
In the slum was an old, caved in well that needed to be repaired. Water was buried under trash, rocks, and dirt. The well needed to be cleaned out, dug much deeper and the well’s walls had to be reinforced with brick and stone. If this could be done, the children would no longer be sent to the forest to gather water. (The most violent of criminals hid in that forest and did their worst to those little ones.)… If the well was repaired, water would be available. And a pit-latrine (long drop) needed to be dug and built — so children and women would not be in harms way as they went outside the “camp” to “relieve themselves”. Two pit-latrines were planned for, one for women and children, another for men. We asked for support to gather the funds…within days, the needed amount was provided. Faithful, God-loving friends… oh how thankful we were and are…(if you support our work, you have a hand in this “story”).
The work began within the week.
It took one month to complete the well repair, a hand pump installed (so the well would not be an open pit that someone could be thrown into), concrete was poured by hand around the perimeter of the well, and two separate pit-latrines with two stalls in each were completed. Praise God.
A month later, we walked to the slum. Steve and the men talked with the chief, I sang with the children while mommas watched. I’ve learned that no matter the country or language — all children love to sing “Jesus Loves Me” in sign language.
Now, 10 years later…
This past week, 3 men from Jamanur slum came to the seminary to dig up 3 stumps from trees that needed to be removed (again, if you support us, you helped remove 3 dangerous trees and pay for the stump removals). Our students told us, “You know, Jamanur is no longer a slum. Now it is a village.” I asked why the change. They said, “Because over the past 10 years Jesus has come to them and they are no longer the violent people they were. Now they have a church and a preacher and the children go to school instead of gathering water in the forest.”
Oh Lord…
So dear one, Jesus gained access to their village, after the water arrived. Jesus came when love obeyed and responded to the shock waves of the earth quaking in Jamanur.
I asked about the 3 men digging up stumps, and was told, “They are Christians. They still look like warriors, but they love Jesus.”
Jamanur was a slum where earthquakes happened day and night. Now, it is a village with a church. Now, there are no screams coming from it. Now there is singing. The tremors have ended and the story can now be told — the story that focuses MOST on the arrival of LIGHT where once there was only darkness.
Ahhhh — there’s one off my heart… :)
John 1:5 | The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
Matthew 6:10 | Your Kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth, as it is in Heaven.
