Michael Kane escorted me back to the holding room. It was the longest walk. Well, that night all the walks were long. I kept pushing a trolley, which held what material life I decided to hoard. When was I going to be there –
Before going into the detention hall I had to get forcefully introduced to a not-so-nice guard. She was totally in a state that night – that not-wanting-to-be-at-work type state. Well, she had to put up with me. The Christian kid who really wasn’t looking for any trouble. The one who actually only spoke when spoken to. The one that cooperated during the whole ordeal. The one that was not holding a bomb or any sharp object as one might suspect.
The little Anglo-Indian guard asked me to hold out my arms. To put them in that “T” position. Maybe she was measuring the size of the cross I’d have to carry. I don’t think she realized the cross I already carried. But to be honest, I don’t think I fully understood the weight of that cross either.
It’s not like I held the weight of the world on my shoulders. Not like I was shouldering someone else’s burden or like I was shouldering anything for that matter. My intentions were pure that Monday; I wanted to move to
I chose that God that night; I chose the love from my youth.
You know – side story – I sat in church today and realized the complete and utter joy of being in God’s presence. I wasn’t the first to realize that ecstasy though. There was this little boy bobbing up and down in his father’s arms during worship. The music blasting. Amber singing to a God who weather’s all storms with us, a God who is both the definition of grace and the experience of magnificence; magnificent grace, such unexpected love. I was alone with God in a crowd of people. Fellowship. Intimacy. Faithful love.
I can’t really explain how God caught my eye in that moment. Or how he focused me on heaven, eternity or even on himself. But this little boy reminded me of the pure untainted never-been-jaded-before pleasure of being with the love of my youth. The boy’s simple smile. Giggles galore. Eyes wide open. Hands bashing and clapping without any rhythm or rhyme or coordination at all. It was a sight of pure happiness.
I fell in love with my Lord again earlier today. Because he showed me the hope for life. And I kept eyes wide open to see it all.
Ponder the path of your feet;
then all your ways will be sure. (Proverbs 4:26)
That night back in detention, I never asked anyone where I was going or what was happening to me. It never occurred to me that they’d answer me back. To me they were machines doing their job. I guess that’s how I detached myself from the situation. They were simply characters out of Orwell’s 1984 and I was not at all expecting to disappear into the Ministry of Love like Syme.
I never disappeared, but everyone else did. I was alone again. Nervous for the impending decision and thinking about nothing else.
Even though I say I should have had my mind set on God at that point, I think it would have been a bit too overwhelming for me. I mean, how can a person think on the God of completely everything that’s ever existed and does exist and will ever exist while going through complete chaos in a foreign country? It’s in this place that I noticed a separation.
I was literally separated from everything that I know. My telling people prior to my trip, “I’m leaving everything I’ve known for 23 years,” held true during those 36 hours. I had the clothes that were on my back and the prayers that were in my heart. And that’s the second separation: my heart from the rest of me.
I prayed because I didn’t know what else to do. I rocked back and forth like a mental person in a psyche ward. My hands shook and never steadied. I couldn’t sit still. I paced the tiles and with every loop I thought the nightmare would end, that I’d be taken back home like some male version of Dorothy. It never happened. Each time I turned the same two cups and half eaten sandwich littered the one little table between the chairs.
I prayed. I asked God what was going on. “God, what the hell is going on? Come on God, let me know something, let me see something; give me something Lord. I’m freakin’ out. God, come on. Help me. Please. God.” And the words just kept shooting off my tongue like chewing tobacco to the ground. It was an addiction of sorts talking to the God who’s overcome the world. I knew nothing else in those moments except him who saves.
Ponder the path of your feet;
then all your ways will be sure. (Proverbs 4:26)
I wasn’t sure what was happening. Why was I alone? What was God’s purpose for letting me go through this whole thing? Where was God in all of this?
I’d sit frantically, then I’d get up frantically. Maybe I sound like a skitz or a spatz, some kid on ADD or shooting coke or coming off a high and trying to get sober. Time never skipped so slow, never dragged so far behind, never breathed a breath like holding it under water and watching the world cough with the waves till your faced swelled a red and you couldn’t hold it any longer – one second.
I wasn’t calm when I was alone.
Ponder the path of your feet;
then all your ways will be sure. (Proverbs 4:26)
You know, I found reason to praise God this morning, to return to the love of my youth. I’ve found a reason to praise his name for the past two weeks. And tomorrow it will most likely be the same story. Because even though I was unsure of life for 36 hours and even though it took me days to adjust back to an American lifestyle, God made all of my ways sure.
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