Divine Plagiarism

Hi Friends.

Sorry I haven’t written any boring theories for a while.

Here is something more important.

I think I finally understand faith. I am not afraid anymore, for the first time in my life. I finally understand what it means to look upon your Beloved, torn to shreds, being pulled dead and limp off of the cross, and to somehow hope against hope, to believe somehow the words He spoke will somehow come to pass, to believe that He is right even if it means all your reason and logic, everything your eyes can see is wrong.

This is especially disconcerting for one who has used reason and logic, pretty much his whole life, to hide from pain, to ultimately hide from love.

Long story short (for the first time in my life,) boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl sort of likes boy. Boy moves forward. Girl disengages. Boy gets hurt, and says words that hurt girl. Repeat. Boy and girl decide to never talk again. Boy does everything he can to forget girl. Boy dislikes anything that reminds him, boy turns to logic, to reason, to work, to anything that will make the memory of his love for girl go away. Yet, somewhere it is still there. Not that this is the first heartbreak for boy. Far from it. Yet the other ones are forgotten, and this one just won’t go away. Boy spends time with a few great girls, girls who were his whole list of things he wanted. Yet even with them, he thinks of her. Boy distrusts desire greatly. He distrusts his heart, for he truly believes that to follow it is to be hurt.

Yet, there is something in the stillness of prayer, a whispering. His desires are still alive, even if scourged by flails of logic. And his desires want God even more than her, but they still want her. So at some point, boy turns to face his fear. He yields his desires to God. And he prays… ’God, change my heart or change hers.’ Soon, he realizes that he will need more faith, hope and love than he has to continue to pray this. So he asks God for this. And he seeks blessings from friends, (male and female) and parents. He seeks their advice and counsel as a cross-check on his actions. They are very supportive.

Unexpectedly, more so in the midst of it than in the recounting, God not only does not change his heart away from her (which is how he originally thought the prayer would be answered,) but he becomes even more in love with her. Even more unexpectedly, he dreams crazy dreams that he had not dreamt before, dreams of a house full of beautiful children, dreams of scuttling what seems to be a very promising military career to become a missionary to closed nations. And things begin to happen in the physical.

So against all probability, girl and boy have an email exchange. Boy responds to what seemed to be a positive, open email from girl. Boy cross-checks this with male and female Christian friends, as boy has been known to get it wrong before. And girl responds.

Pause for a second. A while ago, I realized I had been focusing too much on outcomes. Outcomes were, at least to me, about a measure of control. Hence, I had been too concerned with analyzing every comma, ordering all my events. At come point, though, I realized this whole journey of desire thing was between me and God. If He chose to make it about me and her, than I would rejoice all the more, but it is about me and Him until and unless he were to do that. Hence her response was relatively and strangely unimportant. I remarked to a friend, that even if she said ‘I hate you and hope you die,’ it would not change my desires, nor change the journey of desire I am on with God. Surely, I have said the same to Him and He loved me still. Love is unconditional, even if its expression is highly conditional. The love is unchanged, the way one can express it, though, is contingent on the other person’s willingness to receive it, for love will not force itself upon someone.

Anyways, the ‘if she says ‘I hate you and hope you die’’ thing turned out to be prophetic, if with more syllables. That was unexpected, given the council of my friends, and the seemingly positive previous email. Her response was wounding, and intentionally so, in every possible way. All those vulnerable points, the scars from my histories, all of them were struck cleanly and systematically. Belittled, insulted, all the things I hold of value were attacked. With the precision of an Israeli air strike. My honor, my courage, my friendships, my dreams, everything. As if that was the only way to finally get through to me. As if you kick the dog, if will finally leave you alone. As if it was reciprocity. It should have hurt more. And this is what puzzles me. A year ago, it would have been devastating. I would be in tears. Yet I am not. In fact, I forgave her even as I read it. This is certainly strange to me. And then it struck me. I actually believe in this faith thing. That even in the midst of the hurricane, if I keep looking at Jesus, the water will still hold my weight. And I was right: it didn’t change anything. My desire is still for her. Jesus can change it if He wants, but my prayer is unchanged. ‘God, my heart is yours to change. Change my heart, or change hers.’ Somehow, I still have the faith, hope and love to believe that He will answer. This is beyond me, and I embrace it. In one of my prayers a month ago, I heard God answer that ‘she is yours.‘ I accept that, even though I have absolutely no ability to make it come to pass. If that happens, against all logic and all advisories of my eyes of flesh, it will have to be Him. But I accept that. Like still believing, having never seen someone come back from the dead, that your Lord will truly rebuild the temple in three days. Where does someone even start to do that through their own power? One can only start with belief.

I recognize her right to say whatever she wants. I respect her right to build boundaries, and I will observe those boundaries. And she has the right to resent my actions, if she chooses, as I have the right, which I relinquish, to resent hers. The thing that hurts the most, though, is the distinct impression that she resents my heart. As if my love for her was offensive, that my heart, was in some way, disgusting to her. And she is wrong to do so. But I relinquish my rights there, as well. And I ask for a love I do not have, one that keeps no record of wrongs. For if there was a record of mine, how could I stand?

I once said I would fight through hell to find her heart. I did not know how prophetic that would be. But I mean that as much now as I did then. It is only through a strength beyond myself that I can see this thing through. Yet I find myself stronger than I ever expected in my weakness. Praise be to God. I believe. He will answer my prayer. Whether he changes me, or her, or both, my heart is His. I am not afraid anymore. And I will hope beyond what this world calls reason. My heart is His to move, but until He moves it, I will persevere. If this is faith, this is it.