Concussion and Bruises

On Saturday, I returned from a trip to Roanoke to help repair/renovate houses for low-income families. On this trip, I received a mild concussion, my fair share of scratches, and about a dozen bruises, most of which I have no idea how I got them.

And it was, without question, absolutely worth it.

It wasn't the smiling six-year-old running up to us and giving us each a card and a "Thank you" for roofing his family's house. It wasn't the old man whose porch we cleaned out and then braced telling us his story. It wasn't the camaraderie developed with those who went with me from my church nor the new friendships with those from other churches. All of those were nice and appreciated, but there's something innately wonderful about simply helping someone who cannot help themselves.

Perhaps it is because we were meant to love each other. Perhaps because, being made in the image of God, we inherit a fraction of His generosity and desire to see others happy. Perhaps it is that our irony-loving God put it in our hearts to never be satisfied when seeking ourselves, but only seeking Him and the welfare of others.

Whatever it may be, I am still amazed that I am not only willing, but eager to go back next year, and perhaps in the interim to a proposed trip to Nashville to help clean up after the massive flood the city had. The injuries don't matter to me.

And it's good that they don't, because God never promises that walking in His will is going to be easy. He actually promises hardships. Look at Paul's life. Beaten, imprisoned, his life often threatened, and once even stoned and left for dead. He was eventually killed for what he preached. He did not lead an easy life after his salvation, whereas his life was nearly perfect before it, as far as his comfort was concerned. He was fairly well-to-do, respected, powerful, and considered as holy as man could be. All of that he considered as rubbish compared to what Christ offered him and he gladly suffered all the things that came to him in order to remain in God's will.

I'll be honest: I'm not at that point yet. I hope to one day be, but I don't know if it will ever happen. My trip was worth the bumps and bruises, but if someone were to threaten me with imprisonment, scourging, and stoning for going, I know I would stay happily home in the comfort of the room I rent, blogging about how we should trust in God to protect us. In that regard, I am both hypocrite and coward. Worse, I am idolizing myself over God.

The greatest wonder in the universe is not the galaxies incomprehensible distances away nor the love between a man and woman that so often goes beyond all reason nor life nor unfathomable complexity of each atom and how God's rules govern each tiny particle. No, the greatest wonder is that God can love us. It's not like we love each other, keeping our skeletons in our closets, putting our masks on to hide our true faces, and turning away from each other when a certain standard is not met or reciprocity of love fails. God loves us, knowing all of our skeletons, even the ones we refuse to admit to ourselves, knowing our true faces as their Designer, and He will never turn away, even though we can't offer Him anything that makes Him greater or hurt Him by refusing Him.

With such a love, we should be throwing ourselves at His feet, praising Him all day, and resting in Him at night. And yet we don't, because we're injured and won't let Him heal us, sometimes by Himself, but more often through others. We have concussions and bruises on more than just our bodies. Our hearts and souls are bleeding and broken, too.

There is an old adage that says, "If you want to have friends, show yourself friendly." I would coin it to say, "If you want to be blessed, make yourself a blessing." If you are hurting, give your hurt to God, and then help others. Nothing clears up a few bumps and bruises like doing what God made you to do.