Deep Cost and Deep Joy

Michael asked me in a comment the other day why I have been posting so much. Part of the answer is that, for me, this is a new season with God and an experience of some things that I have doubted or been afraid of, I think, for years, coming to life. There are things that people have told me before, reassurances about God's goodness and faithfulness that sounded like placating platitudes, that, frankly, I have often wondered if they were true.

How, exactly, does God show up in deep, piercing pain, in what feels like betrayal, like suffering beyond what our hearts and bodies can bear? I have heard He does, and that He does it in extraordinary ways. In ways that we cannot fully explain to someone not personally experiencing his direct outpouring of comfort and grace in that moment, in ways that not only sustain us but actually bring a better, deeper intimacy with Him, and a joy beyond the comfort anything else on the planet could provide.

Quite honestly, even a little embarrassingly so for someone who goes around and talks to people about "missions and serving God", I have harbored deep doubts about the reality of that type of presence, that type of comfort or joy. Enough doubt that in fact I lived in fear of any real kind of testing, real suffering or sacrifice. I imagine we all live with that to some extent; we are flesh and blood after all, and pain is pain. But I hated how this fear infiltrated my entire picture of God, making me reluctant even to truly trust and willingly open all of myself, all I love and care for, to all of Him with every part of my life and heart.

I am Lucy in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.

"Then he isn't safe?", said Lucy.

"Safe?", said Mr.Beaver. "Don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? Course he isn't safe.....but he's good. He's the King I tell you."

Truth be told, I have spent my walk with God not buying Mr. Beaver's answer. Mr. Beaver just knows the "right" answer, says I. In my heart of hearts, I carried the questions, "Are You good? Can You be trusted?"

My ministry trip in Northern California was...I don't know the right word. What captures "deeply amazing" and "deeply painful"? What word captures those ideas with the connotation landing heavier on the "good and wouldn't trade it for anything" side of the coin, but still communicates "painful and almost broke me in two"?

On this trip, in almost every conversation, whether phone or face-to-face, whether meeting with potential supporters, whether sharing meals with friends, there was an element of pain. Almost always more than an element; there was a deep hurt, a wrenching ache, a failure, a betrayal, a dream crushed. These conversations were among the most transparent I have been privileged to have; from a long-time friend I drove 7 hours to visit, to a new, instant, kindred spirit and exceptional woman I met after my presentation to a small group, to beautifully deepening relationships with people I have known at a distance, to soul-questioning phone calls, to dozens of other moments in between, it was a completely different time in my faith than I have experienced before. I was privileged to hear people share some of their most terrible pain and doubts, their soul's longings for more of God, and I was able to share some of mine, in situations of complete trust and confidence and love.

And...it...was...good. I have more to ponder on and share regarding the stunning healing that exists in the kind of transparent relationships I believe God wants us to have with people, especially other believers, as opposed to what I think we have created in most of our churches and Christian relationships, but that's for later. Oh, our broken, broken, Body of Christ. Later.

For now, I want to say that He is good. He has come to my heart, come to my house, come to my prayer, come to my imagination, my mind, my soul, my strength, with intimacy and grace I have longed for but not been able to believe before. In my heart's most confused and aching moments during this trip and after, He has come. He has given others words of love to speak over me. He has reminded me of the words of love and promise He has spoken to me for years through friends and family, but that I am just now hearing. And He has given himself, in more presence and power than ever before. And I have been able to take that goodness, that trust, that transparency to prayer for the ones I met with, the ones I love, and for myself. There has been deep cost, but there has been deep joy.

For a season? I don't know, and I don't care. This is now. He is here. He is good.

For now, in both praise and prayer request, I just want to capture a moment of deep cost and deep joy. We lost an MAF pilot last week.

In the days before the news, a friend in Germany posted this on her blog:

"No healthy saint willingly chooses suffering... He chooses God's will whether it means suffering or not."- Oswald Chambers

News came last Thursday morning of a young pilot, beloved by his parents, 3 siblings, and a girlfriend, and with the kind of smile that evidences a love not of this world, not returning as expected after a departure from an MAF base in Arnhem Land, Australia.

After extensive search and rescue operations, airplane and cargo debris were found on the shorline of a bay not far from his point of departure. Neither the pilot nor the plane have been recovered to date, but all evidence suggests a high-force impact in the water. Extreme tides and sea activity are making deeper recovery efforts impossible at this point, but the reality that Hadleigh would not have survived this has changed the landscape of this world for his family, his fellow MAFers on the Arnhem Land team, and our MAF family worldwide.

From our International CEO, within a day after the accident, came these words as he comforted our MAF family, tailing for me on those from Oswald Chambers:

Sacrifice is suffering chosen. Many people in the world suffer. But what distinguishes suffering from sacrifice is that sacrifice is suffering chosen by the one who will have to actually endure it. This is exactly what our Savior did for us. He chose to “make Himself nothing . . . and (become) obedient to death – even death on a cross!” (Philippians 2:7-8).

At Masha's house, my precious Russian friend had just before this accident spoken of "the cost, the honor" of being a Christian, of belonging to and committing to follow Jesus. She knows of what she speaks, growing up in Central Asia under heavy religious persecution. There is a cost, but He is there, He provides.

From a song called Aslan, by Kendall Payne, whom both Michael and Marilyn have mentioned.

Don't stop your crying on my account
A frightening lion, no doubt
He's not safe, no he's not safe
Are you tempted now to run away?
The King above all Kings is coming down

But He won't say the words you wish that he would
Oh, he don't do the deeds you know that He could
He won't think the thoughts you think He should
But He is good, He is good

I know you're thirsty, the water is free
But I should warn you, it costs everything
Well, He's not fair, no He's not fair
When He fixes what's beyond repair
And graces everyone that don't deserve

No one knows Him whom eyes never seen
No, I don't know Him but He knows me
He knows me, He knows me

Lay down your layers, shed off your skin
But without His incision, you can't enter in
He cuts deep, yeah He cuts deep
When the risk is great and the talk is cheap
But never leaves a wounded one behind

In the words of our International CEO, "God’s unfailing love has come in the form of [our friend] resting in the arms of his Lord, a wonderful place for him but a great loss for those dear to him that are left behind." In a place where MAF pilots are the only missionaries permitted on Aboriginal land, where they provide a "service", our pilot's father went to visit after the accident, expecting to be greeted by perhaps a few community elders under a tree. Instead, he was met by a huge crowd of Aboriginal people who embraced him, wept with him, sang with him, and expressed their love and thanks for "their pilot". They said they knew that all the MAF pilots and families came to serve them out of obedience to God, not a desire to make money or anything else, and that this young man had been committed to them.

God, your cost is deep. Your joy is deep. Thank you for paying the deepest, deepest cost to recover us, to make sure a wounded one is never left behind. My tears this morning for this family, for us, are yours to count.