Alabama part 2: The Word

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
John 1:14

One thing I have learned in my journey into the wild is that relationships begun and largely maintained over the internet can be profoundly encouraging and healing. I've also had the privilege of learning that when you finally get to spend time face to face, it will add new and wonderful dimensions to your understanding and experience of the person, no matter how well you thought you knew them from a geographical distance. If I had to name the main impression I got from Huntsville, it was "The Word becoming flesh looks like this."

In “The Shack,” the story tells of Mack’s painful history in his relationship with his earthly father. Wounds like this can truly take a lifetime to heal, and perhaps even then some, as portrayed with Mack’s father later in the book. I laughed when I read that “Papa” Father God was a big black woman cooking dinner in the kitchen when Mack arrived at the shack. This portrayal caused so much controversy, yet I understood it instantly. This was the flesh that Mack needed to see at the time. He couldn’t handle a father. He needed to see someone who looked safe, who was warm and inviting.

I stared at the email as if it was going to bite me. “Call me anytime if you want to talk. I’d love to hear from you.” I had enjoyed emailing with her for a couple of months now, but I knew what happened when you opened your heart to a new friend. I replied that I was sorry, but just coming out of a new ‘friendship’ badly burned and couldn’t find the courage. She didn’t seem put off, she was very kind and understanding.

When I finally got to meet Aida face to face a couple of weeks ago, I thought she looked like an angel (who came up with the idea that they have blonde hair and blue eyes?). The curly hair she complains about in damp weather was snowy white and in perfect soft waves. Her warm brown eyes and dark complexion reminded me of my oldest friend, the only one from years past who has stuck around over time. She is also very warm and friendly, also small and dark-skinned with warm brown eyes. It was like Father was trying to show me, I am safe and kind. I am a friend you can count on, I won’t leave you either. This is what safe and kind looks like.

Aida has commented about the love shared during our weekend in Huntsville. I have thought about what was unique about it. Really, I think the absence of manipulation and self-serving agenda is a primary factor in any group (or pair) of Christians being able to enjoy a real atmosphere of love. Aida has let me know on many occasions that she trusts me to grow, to make good decisions, to do the right thing. She doesn’t want to fix me, she wants to be my friend. Safe and kind is allowing others to be themselves; love trusts.

For years I imagined I needed a spiritual 'mother' in my life. But perhaps, Father is telling me I’m no longer a child, that he trusts me to be an adult. That what I need most is sisters, such as this older sister who is patient and kind, advise me when asked, but never tries to lord over me or make me feel like a child.

“Call me. Here’s my number,” said the email. I looked at it with the same suspicion as if it had said, “You’ve won the sweepstakes! Call this toll free number now!” Why would this “man of God” want to talk to me? Didn’t he have more important things to do? I emailed him back instead, and the reply came back, “Call me. Let’s talk.”

I understand all too well how Mack must have felt about his father. The words ‘safe’ and ‘father’ still don’t feel like they belong in the same sentence. I think Father decided he needed to start me off with a brother. Someone not quite so intimidating, a relationship that doesn’t feel impossibly unsafe.

I still find it uncanny how much Darin reminds me of my earthly brother, and yet he doesn’t. The reminders are there – the sense of humor, the restlessness, the mischievous grin, the adventurous spirit. Yet there is so much difference – Darin’s kindness, his focus on others, his ability to really listen.

Women need men in their family, brothers and fathers and others. Father knew it would take someone unique to get through to me. Someone who would give his phone number to a woman halfway across the country, simply because he wanted to be a friend. Someone who was concerned with reaching out in love, rather than maintaining religious appearances. Someone I could look at and think, “He truly is my brother.” It’s like Father is saying, you are important to me. Brothers and fathers can be safe and kind. This is a good place to start.

Family is not just supposed to be about rituals with people you’re related to by birth. Nor is it supposed to be about rituals with people you go to the same building with on Sundays and Wednesdays, and say “Hey Brother” as a generic catch-phrase of greeting. It’s a sacred word that I hope to have the privilege of fully living out in this lifetime.