This week has been really hard. It started with taking a test early on Sunday afternoon. Today I had a geography test, a statistics test, an outdoor dance performance in the main plaza of campus, a biology test, a meeting with a physical therapy graduate school advisor, after-school elementary school tutoring, and dance rehearsal/Bible study. I am wiped out!!! Thankfully tomorrow is Thursday and I only have one class in the late afternoon. Then on to the weekend! No class Friday, free all day Saturday and Sunday, and then Monday starts the rat race again...
So, the reason for this blog post started with Breakaway on Tuesday. I think I may have mentioned Breakaway before, but in case I haven't, Breakaway is a weekly worship night and message that is held in the basketball arena and usually attracts 3,000+ students. The last few weeks we have been talking about sex and dating and the godly way to interact with the opposite gender. This week the topic was on pornography and its affect on how we love one another.
Heavy stuff, but desperately needed. It's one of those topics--like rape, suicide, and a myriad of addictions--that is pushed under the rug and wished away. No one ever mentions pornography and yet it's killing off our generation and dehumanizing the rest...
So, I'm sitting there hearing this amazing talk and trying to hold it all in. You see, this is something that has affected many of my loved ones and I have heard stories of so many of my parents' friends whose marriages have fallen apart because of pornography.
And as I am sitting there it's as if a box of memories on the back shelf of the back room in the warehouse of my mind was dumped on the floor. Memories and conversations and counseling and prayers and emotions that I had locked up for several years. Stuff that I wish I hadn't had to encounter, but glad that I learned what I did about the girls I met and interacted with. My heart is breaking as I am sitting there in a group of both guy and girl friends who really don't even know me that well.
You see... what do I say? How do I tell my friends that I am sitting there silently bawling not because I am under conviction myself, but because my heart is breaking for one of my friends in particular. How do I explain that I see her face like it was yesterday, I feel her whole body shaking with the uncontrollable sobs of a heart rended by God, and I feel the pain like it was my own? What do I say, how do I explain? You don't. Because you just can't.
So I come back to my room and try to fall asleep but sleep decided to allude me...for 5 hours. I wake up, head to first class and start my horrifically busy day. And until about 2 hours ago, I have been trying to just survive the day and not think about it. Like I am trying to put all of those memories back in a box, back on the shelf, back in the dark room.
Because two hours ago I started a skype conversation with a wonderfully amazing friend from Thailand. She and I met officially on a VBS-like trip to Singapore and Malayisa. We fought like sisters, hung out together most of the time, cried together, took tons of crazy pictures, and probably sampled every Starbucks in both Malayisa and Singapore! And reliving all of those memories and seeing where she was when I met her in Tauwau, Malaysia and where God has brought her to now, totally thrilled my heart. There's something about a friend that can put a band-aid on life and make it all better.
You see, I am one of those people who often finds herself in counseling situations or on the other end of a phone or IM conversation with a hurting girl. I love how God challenges me each time I meet another situation, another life, another broken vessel that God wants to put back together so He can shine out through the cracks in her life (2 Cor 4:6-7). But it's hard. It's not fun. But is it worth it? Yes. Totally. Over and over I would gladly sacrifice a few hours of sleep, a few moments in prayer, a few minutes to read a verse with her, or a few months of follow-up accountability. But yet I am often left with memories that will not go away. They get pushed to the side, filed away, but often will return. And it hurts sometimes.
Yet I know that those burdens I feel for my dear sisters in Christ are not carried by me alone. Jehovah-Rapha's (God who heals) heart is crying too. But I know that if in some small way He is able to use some aspect of my life to bring about some part of the work He wants to do in hers, it is all worth it.
...and so my heart cries. But I am not so sure that it's an entirely bad thing.
