The Best and Worst of Times: From the Other Side

It really isn't that strange that I felt more peace there, than I ever have at home.

Sitting in that plastic tent every morning, surrounded by gravel and concrete walls and desert and warfare, as the temperatures mounted higher and higher, I was aware, if only in the back of my mind of a presence, a breath of life. 

A light.

"I will fear no evil, because you are with me."

Psalm 23:4

The only being that could ever come into a place so very temporal and physical, and sanctify it--turn that dusty, gravel field into holy ground--was right there in the middle of trauma and exhaustion and death, making the tents and bunkers into a sacred temple, filling the dark with light and saying, "You are mine. I have called you here, and this place is mine, too." 

And the shadows fled.

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."

John 1:5

The darkness never stood a chance. Not where the light is, where the presence of God fills men and women and works through their hands and hearts to pour out their lives into the people working beside them and the patients lying in front of them.

To return from that place to this one, from a place of scarcity to a place of overwhelming abundance is more than difficult. It is soul-wrenching and heart-breaking and mind-numbing. It is terrifying for so many reasons--because I know I did not do as well as I should have done, and there is still so much left behind to do--but the primary loss is one of connection, that oneness of purpose and understanding, that closeness to the light that shines so very bright in contrast to the surrounding evil.

It has been three weeks since I left that place. For two of these uneasy weeks, I was an outsider in my own skin. I wrote and wrote, and nothing ever made it to this page, because I could not find the words to express what had gripped me without it dissolving into a stream of conscious cry of pain and disappointment.

"The Lord is near the brokenhearted; he delivers those who are discouraged (the crushed in spirit)."

Psalm 34:18

This week the flood has begun to subside, and I've come to realize how much it hurt, even as the ache begins to fade.

I am able to remind myself that no matter where I stand, whether in the war-stricken desert or in the land of the undeserving free, the presence of the Creator of the universe is still with me. He has still called me to be where I am. He is still ready to work through my hands, to prepare me for the next step in my own remaking.

"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."

Phil. 4:6-7