Authors: Elizabeth Forkey
Yeah, I can
picture St. Paul saying "
wussy
".
The shame of my
failures in the past week—I don't know, maybe it's been going on even
longer—makes me fall on my face in the carpet next to my bed. I have been a
complete failure. I have been muddling along on my own, without going to Him
each day, each hour, like I need to for the right perspective, the right
attitudes,
the
strength to face the tests that come at
me. I have done it all on my own instead and the fruit of my efforts has been
fear, anger, resentment, foolishness, fickleness, and loveless results.
I was a horrible
example to Matt and a bad friend to Aunty Coe who has cared for me so
faithfully all these years. I was disrespectful to the guard who is putting his
life on the line for me daily and I drug Harmony into all of it with my lack of
wisdom and careless disregard for anything but my own agenda.
I totally suck.
Tears spill over
and wet my carpet. I've cried all week long but tonight's tears are not made of
fear or anger or loss. They are the refreshing tears of repentance and they
flush out my sin. The carpet in my room is very old and it always smells like
wet dog. I usually avoid putting even my bare feet on it. Now, wet with my
tears, it is even grosser, but I continue to lay my head against it and cry. I
am humbled and ashamed and finally willing to submit to my loving God.
While I'm
crying, He reminds me that everyone sucks. That if I didn't suck, I wouldn't
need Him. If anyone was capable of saving himself through hard work or charity
or goodness, Jesus wouldn't have had to come.
Wouldn't have
had to die.
We suck. It's the best thing we've got going for us. It's
how He shows us how much he loves us.
I love Him so
much and for the first time in ages I feel His love for me. I've known
something was wrong. I've sensed but avoided the truth that I was slipping.
You'd think if you recognized that you were dying that you'd hurry to stop it,
to heal whatever is sick. It's innately human to struggle for life. But for some
reason, though it makes no sense, it's also innately human to lean away from
eternal life. I should feel ashamed but I feel—grateful. His grace and peace
and joy have moved back into their rightful place in my heart. I offered my
heart to Him years ago but then I pushed him into a corner and let myself take
the Master Bedroom. With Him back on the throne, everything fits like pieces of
a puzzle back into perspective.
I sing Him some
of my favorite songs about Him. He warms me all over and I feel life in my soul
again. It is cold outside, cold and drafty on the floor of this old house, but
I'm brimming again with His love and I feel warm. It might sound crazy, but my
whole world is crazy. If you can understand the possibility of the zombies, you
just have to accept the other side of the coin.
An awesome
loving God.
Even the disease is His goodness. He has tried everything to
bring people back to him. He made the curse of sin even more recognizable and
even more obvious through the sickness. He gave even more proof of his goodness
by curing anyone who would come to him for
all the
world to see.
And still. Still
most of them refuse to see it.
And it's
my
purpose to do my best to show them
with the time I have left. I can't run away afraid. If they come for me, I'll
show them love. I'll show them till they kill me and send me home. This is why
we don't kill zombies. We were born to love them for Him. If I die, my fate is
set and secure. Their fates still hang in the balance and we are all running
out of time.
A
transformed
Ivy stands up in place of the Ivy who laid on the musty carpet.
With joy in my spirit, I go to the bathroom to wash my salty cheeks. A glance
at my face in the mirror makes my eyes go wide with shock. My skin looks
radiant and new—glowing— like it hasn't in ages. Had it gotten that bad? Was I
decaying and not even noticing? It looks like I just came back from a week of
spa treatments and chemical peels. And it's not just my
face,
I feel it in my limbs and in my bones.
Energy.
Vigor.
I shudder to think of how bad I would've looked a
month from now if I hadn't been cleansed. I was so awful to Matt and so grossed
out by him and his kind and I was this close to seeing my own skin rotting. I'm
so thankful for this fresh start, my one thousandth fresh start.
My umpteenth clean slate.
His grace is amazing.
First things
first, I need to go find Aunty. It's late, and I haven't knocked on her door
after bedtime in years, but this can't wait until morning and I know her love
well enough to know she'll forgive me. Then I suspect I'm going to have the
best sleep I've had in awhile.
Pancakes Always Give Me
The
Sniffles
After a night of
restful, dreamless sleep, the first thing I do this morning is open my Bible. I
won't play it that close again. I have to do this every day, visit with Him,
focus on Him, or I'll fail again. Who knows what the consequences of walking
away could be next time. I don't want to take anyone else down. I must stay on
task. I decide to keep going with the material Sherry sent instead of picking
up my normal devotional book. I do as she asked and look up more verses to add
to the Spurgeon study. There are a lot of ways Sherry could go with this one,
but the most obvious to me is bravery to live among
our
enemies and what our purpose is here in the midst of them. So with that in mind
I find:
Matthew
5:16
"
Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may
see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven."
1 Peter 2:12
"Live
such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong,
they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us."
I wonder if
Sherry would notice if I wrote zombies instead of pagans in that one.
Philippians
2:15
"
So that you may become blameless and pure, children of God
without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like
stars in the universe."
1 Peter
4:16
"
However, if you suffer as a Christian, do not be ashamed,
but praise God that you bear that name."
Proverbs
29:27
"
The righteous detest the dishonest; the wicked detest the
upright."
Very nice of God
to understand: We hate them and they hate us. But God wants us to be the better
person here and love them because He loved us back when we hated Him.
John
16:33
"
I have told you these things, so that in me you may have
peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the
world."
John
15:18
"
If the world hates you, you know that it hated me before it
hated you."
I decide to
write them each down and memorize them.
Praise God,
today is Sunday! Even though I'm stuck with this horrible house arrest, I
already get to go out today because Rev.
Depold
said
I could still come to U.R. meetings with Aunty. I'm looking forward to
worshiping. And I can tell Sherry how much her stuff helped me - she loves
hearing about the cool things God does in our lives. I pray for a minute and
then head to the kitchen for some breakfast.
Aunty of course
forgave me last night. She probably had forgiven me even before I knocked on
her door. We hugged and chatted for almost an hour before our yawning had us
laughing and I climbed out of her bed and found my way to my own. We used to
hang out in her bed all the time. It's nice to know that even though I'm
pretty much a grown women,
I'm still welcome there. I'd
never admit it to her, but she looked so old in her nightgown with no makeup
on. I guess I've been so self absorbed that I wasn't even noticing her aging.
If we can just make it another year together, we won't ever have to say goodbye
to each other. This world will end and melt into the next and we'll be healthy
and young and beautiful together for all of eternity.
When I get to
the kitchen, she's there waiting for me with coffee and pancakes. I'm sure she
thinks I'll be thrilled to enjoy pancakes and syrup since I missed out the
morning she made them for Matt. Oh Matt. That antagonistic smile when he poured
my syrup on his flapjacks, his beautiful green eyes and the special wink he
always gave me. The memories sink into my chest and resonate with that familiar
dull ache. I look up into
Aunty's
blue eyes, warm
again today, and I know she is reading me like her favorite book. My eyes
glisten with a new layer of held back tears.
"I thought
so." Aunty sighs. "I wasn't sure, I of course suspected, but this
confirms it."
"I miss
him," I blubber, "and I treated him so awful and then it was too
late."
There is
something wrong with me lately. I'm usually more together. I must be
PMSing
or something. Aunty wraps her arms around me and
clucks her tongue at me. It's slightly condescending, but appropriate I guess.
She's older and wiser; and, as it turns out, I am just a silly girl after all.
I've been so out of character this week with all the crying and all the
hugging. After a somber pancake breakfast, we clean up and head to different
parts of the house to get ready for the Upper Room.
Twenty minutes
later Aunty and I are strolling down the jagged pitted sidewalk towards the
U.R. arm in arm. I left my depressed heart behind at the Inn, trading it out
for a fresh spirit from a little bible reading before we left. We're wearing
our best new clothes and coats and I feel chipper and elated to be out in the
cold fresh air of freedom. The sky looks glorious. The blue is so fresh and
deep it's almost the turquoise of my new coat and the clouds are piled over and
over on top of each other with peachy pink shadows to differentiate each puffy
shape.
Aunty opens the
door for me when we arrive at the front of the U.R. and, with a deep breath and
a
wink,
we enter and split up towards our different
Sunday School classes. Aunty walks slowly and gracefully upstairs in her pretty
red high heels and I turn towards the basement steps, comfortable in my old
tennis shoes.
Sherry's class
is mostly full when I arrive and everyone gets quiet as I walk in and sit down.
Harmony isn't here yet. Sherry gives me a little smile, but it isn't full of
her usual warmth. Insecurity and nerves pound the first crack in my confident,
peppy spirit. Sherry starts right in with the lesson, the last in our series
study on the book of James. It's good. Her teaching is always great. Harmony
sneaks in a few minutes late and, even though there isn't anyone in my whole
row of chairs, she sits down somewhere behind me.
Wow.
So I guess she's
mad at me.
Great.
The self-esteem my new clothes
brought and the joy I felt on the walk here shatter along the fault line that
Sherry's half smile started. I fidget through the rest of Sherry's lesson,
missing most of it. At one point I glance behind me and catch a scowl from
Jamie Crest—my last week crush. He's friends with Terry, the guard. He probably
heard all about what happened yesterday. And from the anger in Jamie's scowl,
I'm guessing Terry didn't tell it quite like I would have. During Sherry's
closing prayer, I duck out like a coward, hurrying out the door and up the
stairs to the Sanctuary. I don't want to face them.
I am relieved to
run into Aunty in the lobby and I cling to her side like a little girl. I work
here. I help run this building! I always feel so at home here, important even.
But today I feel distinctly not welcome. Am I paranoid or does everyone here
think badly of me?
I'm just sure
they're all talking about me. I try not to hear their whispers as Aunty and I
walk to our usual seats near the front—my face red with shame and frustration.
I'm dressed nicer than anyone here. Aunty brought the clothes we got for the
clothing bank days ago. I thought the other girls my age would be wearing the
new clothes we brought. But everyone else's clothes look old and bedraggled.
Their Sunday best barely nicer than my cleaning clothes.
Are
they intentionally not wearing the clothes? Is this some sort of show of
disapproval?
My new clothes,
that I was so excited to put on this morning, fit my body nicely and show my
shape. Last Sunday, I would've been proud to have these new things and
thankful. I would've walked past Jamie Crest and felt confident that he might
have noticed me and liked what he saw. Today, I realize belatedly that I
should've worn my hand-me-downs. These stupid clothes are the reason that all
of this is happening.
I must look so
vain, so prideful, to put our friends at risk for new clothes. It's so unfair.
I didn't even want to go! Aunty made me. But they don't see it that way. I look
like the spoiled rich girl who lives in the mansion and has to have the best of
everything. I wish they knew how much I worked. I clean that place all week
long. I cater to the constant needs of strangers in my own house, having almost
no privacy and never a day off! They don't know me. But I wish they did. It
would be vindicating.
The music starts
and I ask Him to help me focus on worshipping Him and then I'm lost in His
grace for the rest of the singing. We sing a lot of the old hymns. They are so
full of meaning and depth, written by men and women who lost much in their
service to The Lord. We studied them once, some of the most famous of the old
hymn writers, and their stories were tragic. Dead children and wives, terrible
health, blindness, and they chose to write praises to the King who allowed it
all to happen. I admire those people a lot.
Ms. Julia stands
up at the small podium the pastor preaches from to give a few announcements
about the missionaries' homecoming next week. There are preparations to be made
for the extra gatherings we'll have and volunteers are needed. I thought I'd be
a big part of the homecoming, but now I'm not sure I'll even be allowed to go.
Not really sure I even want to go.
My eyes wander
the large room we meet in as Ms. Julia continues on in her typical
business-like tone. The U.R. used to be the city court house. This was the main
courtroom and the wooden pews we sit in were meant for those attending trials.
The judge's seat still sits in its prominent place at the front of the room but
know one sits there. It's very symbolic to us though. That seat is for Jesus.
He's the only one who can sit there as the blameless perfect Lamb who died for
us. And though we are constantly sinning and He'd have every right to condemn
us—send us to jail and throw away the key—He considers our debts paid because
He paid them for us. He met our bail. He rescued us from the prison we deserved
and looks at us with incredible Love from His place in the Judges seat.
The guilty of
old
who
stood before this seat when human judges sat
there never got that luxury. No human judge offered to take the sentence of
murderer's and thieves. We know what's been done for us and we try our best to
live our lives to please Him.
To thank Him.
Incense
burns in a little dish at the Judges desk. It is always burning there and
it's
smoky wisps are just visible in bright florescent
light. The spicy, smoky smell fills the whole building and I'm so used to it I
hardly notice it anymore.
Finally Rev.
Depold
stands to deliver this morning's message.
"Zombies," he says and then pauses for effect.
Oh no.
Please no.
Please don't let the sermon be about me. I can't handle this!
I want to crawl under the bench and hide.