It was my neighbor. Normally not without a smile on her face, she was loudly sobbing as she sat on her knees in the middle of her garden, raking her tools through the dirt with an anger and despair that proved to weaken her strokes.
Just days before, she had told me that she and her husband were going to divorce. Although it appeared to be a necessary move in her situation, she was utterly heartbroken, livid, and devastated.
It came at a time in my life when I naively turned my nose up at the idea of anyone getting a divorce--not out of compassion or empathy, but out of disdain for the seemingly ungodly ending to a godly institution. In my opinion at the time, divorce never really had to be an option. It was for people who didn't try hard enough, who were selfish. People who didn't put their children first. People who didn't care what God thought. And if divorce came to pass? Well, then they deserved every bit of the pain that would ensue. That deserves shame. That deserves a heavy conscience. That deserves punishment. And I didn't know that it deserved much grace.
I watched carefully, making sure my breathing was quiet and even, as though she could hear me from 50 yards away. She continued raking, each movement becoming more worn out than the last, until she abandoned the pretense and let her tool fall to the ground before leaning her head back and releasing an unstifled cry.
What should I do? I pondered for several minutes. Maybe I should go sit with her? Hmm. The thought bristled against my introverted personality.
No, maybe she just wants to be alone.
Or was it mere cowardice that wanted to assume that she desired to be alone?
Look at her, I thought. She is miserable. She looks so alone. She has no one out there with her.
I hesitated another minute or so and then opened the door. I walked gingerly through the grass, so as not to frighten her, and as I drew near, she glanced my way and gave a get-it-together sniff, followed by another reflexive sob.
She was filthy and tear-stained, and my heart tore.
It was the first time I had ever seen the ugliness and destruction of divorce up close. I lost the ability to judge her, and all I wanted was to be there for her.
And so I sat. Right there in the dirt with her. And she cried more and told me of her hurts, and I had no idea what to say back. I really don't know if it brought her any comfort at all, but I just kept sitting until the moment seemed to lessen for her.
And sitting in the dust and grime and remaining quiet taught me more about releasing my judgment than a sermon ever could. Even though I didn't yet understand her pain, I understood from hearing and observing her pain up close that there was more to arriving at these "undesirable" situations than I had originally thought.
It was something I couldn't experience from just praying for her safely from a distance. It was an understanding that only came from getting the dust on my clothes with her.
And oh, if only I could have seen that only a month or two later, I would be in a similar spot, sitting in my own pile of dirt and needing someone to get dirty on my behalf, too.
I have a lot on my mind lately. I posted a series several months back about ways we falsely advertise Jesus, grace, and forgiveness. I have become exceedingly passionate about finding ways to speak out against the norm of shunning people for certain lifestyles and mistakes and making them feel unwelcome in the church.
And while I felt empowered to write and share those things with my readers, I have become extremely disheartened over the last few months--especially the last two weeks. The topic of abortion has brought about a rage in my Facebook newsfeed, mostly from Christians who, obviously, proclaim the pro-life stance.
The posts make me so sad. They are condemning and judgmental and full of hatred. They scream how people who choose abortion are "dead inside." "If you are pro-choice, YOU should have been aborted!" they shout. They cry that these pro-choicers are "evil," "vile," "corrupt," "heartless."
They admit, it's because they don't understand how anybody gets to that point.
They don't get it. Take any issue--a gay lifestyle. Abortion. Divorce. Pornography addiction. Premarital sex. Being a Democrat (wink wink).
It's easy for the world to be black and white and to pass black-and-white judgment when you've really only experienced the white. Those who've never experienced a stigma from a life circumstance, choice, or mistake. You know exactly the kind of people I'm talking about. The ones who've never really done anything all that wrong. Sure, they've forgotten a Bible study here and there or skipped a tithe a few times, or maybe they've told a white lie when their wives asked them if their pants made them look fat.
The people who have never really experienced the dirt. The lowliness of life. The dirt and grime of sin and painful outcomes, whether self-inflicted or not, whether deserved or not.
They have never had to lie awake at night and wonder if God will ever forgive them, especially if the church won't. They have never had to wonder if God still loves them after what they've done. If when Jesus died, he could have really died for this. If their life can ever be something worthwhile. If they should abandon their faith now, for what's the point?
You are lucky if you've never had to be there.
But (and as speaking as one who lived in the black-and-white judgment mindset for most of my life) I do find it to be a hindrance. When you never experience the depths of sin and brokenness, it makes it easy to judge the world by what you've been able to avoid. It makes it nearly impossible to fathom how someone comes to the choice of abortion (or fill in the blank). Having been in church my whole life, I understand that there tends to be a certain group of "downtroddenness" that is exempt from the harshest degrees of judgment. We help the homeless (think Room in the Inn) which is wonderful and helpful to many people. We support the people who have come back from the depths and are making their lives right again.
But where is the outreach for prostitutes and exotic dancers? For unwed mothers who can't stop having children with different men? For those on drugs? For those having affairs? And on and on and on?
We SUCK at helping the people who are really in the middle of sin. We don't sit in the dirt very much. We stand in our houses far away and pray quietly. We may open the door and yell that they deserve the pain. We may only welcome them when they've cleaned themselves off and are repenting for God's grace and mercy.
No, it is rare that we volunteer to show up in the dirt with them. To live it with them. To be there. To listen. To offer support.
You see, the dirt is where God often finds us. Remember the prodigal son? The pig pen is where the testimony STARTS.
And it's where we're least likely to jump in.
Is it possible that as Christians we only want people at the END of their testimony instead of being there for them in the beginning and seeing them through?
We are so focused on the choice or the circumstance that we often forget the soul that's lost inside it. The one who needs guidance. The one who turns away from Christianity because, well, they can't help. They just want to judge. They only want me once I've got it together. And what if I've never got it together?
And for some, I offer grace where the sin or circumstance feels "unforgivable" because of events in their own lives. I understand the women who lash out against abortion because they suffer with infertility or have lost one or more children of their own. I get it. I have my own "unforgivable" that I have to work on. I don't for one second understand infidelity or people who arrive at that decision. I don't get people who walk out on their spouses who beg them to stay and fight.
But as distasteful as it is for me to learn, there is another side.
There is ALWAYS another side.
There is a way people get to the choices you don't like.
AND GOD WANTS THEM JUST AS MUCH AS HE WANTS YOU.
He wants the girl who had an abortion in high school just as much as He wants the girl who was a virgin until her wedding night. He wants the man who had an affair as much as He wants the woman that was cheated on. He wants the gay man, the lesbian, the pornography addicts, the preachers, the sinners, the atheists, the die-hard evangelicals, the Republicans, the Democrats, the prideful, the weak.
He wants the son who didn't do anything wrong. And He wants the prodigal who got nothing right.
Just because you haven't lived a life of doing a lot of wrong doesn't mean you've lived a life of doing a lot of right. (And let's be honest...there are people who get a lot wrong and still do a lot of stuff right!)
The right comes in how you respond to the world around you. In how you help the ones who make the "vilest" and "dead-inside" mistakes. In how you sit in the dirt.
You think you are winning a battle, but you are rapidly losing a war. And forget the idea that taking in these people is merely a method of rationalization for wrongdoing. That is a cop-out. Maybe the choice is wrong. Maybe they deserve the consequences. The outcome isn't for you to decide for that person. But it is our job to help them have the best chance at coming out of it for the better.
Dare to reach out when it's ugly. Dare to find compassion when there is nothing but judgment. Dare to see the world less as black and white or wrong and right, and more as a million shades of circumstances, journeys, and testimonies that are all wrapped up in God's marvelous grace.
Stop looking at the people who have jumped or fallen overboard and deciding whether or not they're scared enough before you jump in and get them a raft. Stop being so hateful!
We are the hands and feet of a God whose love doesn't run out. And until we learn how to make loving people more important to us than yelling about the things we don't wish to understand, the world will continue to sit in the dirt alone.
May those who need Him most succeed in their life and faith because of us and not in spite of us.
For no matter what we stand for or what we believe, none of it matters at all without love.
If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love,
I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate.
If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day,
and if I have faith that says to a mountain, "Jump," and it jumps,
but I don't love, I'm nothing.
If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr,
but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere.
So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do,
I'm bankrupt without love.
1 Corinthians 13:1-7, The Message
