What I Love about Jesus? Part II

His attraction to my infection
I was born of the same stuff that is common to all of us who come crying into this harsh world. Like you and everyone else on this planet, I am flesh and blood - vulnerable and exposed, fallen and depraved. Even in my adulthood, I carry the frailties and fears of a wounded child. Like everyone else, that which has become the exterior of my adult life is a cracked shell. Inwardly I am still the child startled by the sharp coldness of this strange awakening.

And have you ever noticed that most people are more attracted to you when your cracks are covered and unexposed. We all know that cracked shells are endimic to humanity, but we nevertheless cover them so that no one will discover what they attest in principle to already know. I come from a movement and community that celebrates grace as a soteriological concept and theological postulate. We celebrate grace in the macro. But when the opportunity is afforded to us to turn this theory into practice, we revert to a previous principle of condemning cracks in others and covering up our own.

Though I am incredibly grateful to the church for gifting to me the gospel, one thing that has always confused me is this point. As a young person it was the practice of everyone, to the point of cultural pervasiveness, to dress up for church. I remember how awkward it was for me to be wearing shoes that didn’t fit, clothes that didn’t match and ties that were outdated by a generation just to satisfy this cultural requirement. It is still the common practice of most churches - this covering of our cracks - this attempt to look deceptively attractive, even though inwardly we are intensely aware of our insidious shortcomings.

Let’s face it. The church is not always a safe place for people with problems. The church is not always a safe place to uncover our spiritual nakedness and own and confess our hidden struggles. Actually it has become for many a place to pretend.

Jesus, on the other hand is not like that. On the contrary, he pursues intimacy with us precisely because of the cracks in our shell. When all have abandoned us in our state of shame, Jesus tends. When we are consumed with infection, he visits us. When we have lost all attractiveness, then He is attracted.

Though my memories do not carry me back this far, when I was a baby, my mother has reported to me later of a serious illness that threatened my short life. I was given medication that my infant body was not ready for. Almost immediately my muscles contracted, my eyes rolled back, my blood pressure spiked. Full of fever, my limbs contorted and though I had not been in the world but a short season, I was on the razor’s edge of death.

I can only imagine the frantic scene. Scurrying doctors and nurses barking orders of medical intervention. Pushing parents to wait in isolated quarters. Having four precious children of my own now, I know that if I had faced the same circumstance with one of my own lambs, my heart would have become overwhelmed with the category of fear that we only experience in the absolute darkest and most desperate of times.

My mother tenderly conveyed that during the crisis, my Father refused to let go of me. I could not be pried from His strong arms. Whatever it was that the hospital staff needed to do with me, simply had to be done while my father held me. What inspired such dramatic devotion is not altogether clear to me.

My father died when I was 15. And it is rare to recall a similar episode in my conscious state as a child. I rarely recall being held in my father’s arms, receiving his extended embrace, hearing his clear affirmations and knowing his healing affections. Whatever it was that held him back - fear, insecurity, or deprivation in his own childhood - I do not know, but I now take courage from my mother’s stories. And the deprivation has made me to have a deep and unmistakable longing both to receive and to give a father’s love. Moreover, it has caused there to be a cavernous hole which can only be filled with the love of my heavenly Father - the One who is passionate for the healing and salvation of my soul.

What I love about Jesus is that He willingly offered Himself to be pierced, bruised and broken to fill those holes of desperation in my life. He brought the loving enduring embrace of the Father to me and to all my orphaned brothers and sisters who want nothing more than to experience mercy and love from our Father. He said clearly, that He is in the Father, and the Father is in Him. Anyone who has seen Him has seen the Father. I have only heard of this love through biblical stories. The love of my heavenly Father is veiled in time and space but is strangely apparent through the spectacles of faith. And though I have not seen Him, He nevertheless reaches out to me. And though I have not felt his touch, I one day will. Until such time, He has promised to never let go of me, no matter what illness invades my soul, no matter what disfigurement becomes of me…no matter…there is no one powerful enough to pry me of his perpetual embrace.

That’s why I love Jesus. It is His confounding attraction to my infection. And there is great healing dispensed in His promise never to let go of me. He clings until I am completely healed, restored and assured of His eternal affection! Wow, what a Savior! What amazes me most is that we would ever resist Him or to project an image that we have no need of Him.

Wounded Flower
Mo Leverett
April 19, 2006 Elkhart, Texas

God defends His orphaned sons
and tends to all the injured ones
the more the shame, then more the care
that He distributes softly there

Thick the walls we form and raise
steeped in self-protective ways
infantiled and sulked within
like a child beneath the skin

Arms will speed from secret space
reaching toward our barren place
hidden holes where hope was hushed
deep where dignity was crushed

Lost and cold and desperate there
something sacred coming where
Wounded hands reach out to ours
opening like a wounded flower

Hands will raise us to our feet
fill our hearts with holy heat
lifting us toward heightened place
gifting us with stores of grace

Slowly changed and soon restored
mercies on our souls are poured
lavished love falls on the grieved
burdened hearts will be relieved.