What God has been saying

I borrowed a book from Pastor Dave, Rebuilding Your Broken World by Gordon MacDonald.

There's a lot of meat in this, but I'm gonna take a time-out to look at this:

"When there has been a broken-world experience and the rebuilding process is under way, one should taken an inventory of what God has been saying."

I was feeling hopeless, abandoned, unwanted by God and other people. Useless. Broken.

I think of Myron, who I met in the institution where I used to work. Myron rocked my world.

Superficially, Myron is a short, deformed, retarded guy. He can't talk. He can't dress himself. He can't bathe unassisted. His legs are askew, so he walks and runs with an awkward, shambling gait. He's missing quite a few teeth.

He's breathtakingly beautiful to me.

There was a moment when I realized that there is not a thing wrong with Myron. That he's a masterpiece of God's handiwork, exactly as he is, missing teeth, bent legs, linguistic limitations and all. And when I started letting Myron be Myron, and started just enjoying his presence, I learned something wonderful: When Myron loved you, you stayed loved.

Staff that knew him but worked in other parts of the institution would come to the home were Myron lived, when they were stressed out. Some staffer would come in the door and call out, "Where's my lovin'?"

Myron would give his little hoot and take off in a shambling run around the patio. The staffer would chase him for a while, catch him, give him a little hug. And sometimes in return, Myron would do a little sign of affection that's impossible to describe. A simple thing. And the staffer would walk out and his feet wouldn't touch the ground.

In retrospect, I think that sometimes being with Myron was like what being with Jesus was like during the Incarnation. It's not that He did anything spectacular necessarily. It might have been the smallest gesture. But there was a love in it that you carried away. Or rather, that carried you away.

I woke up one morning, in the midst of my misery, and saw for the first time that in some ways I'm like Myron. That the stuff that's broken in the world's eyes can be the very things that allow Jesus to shine through. I saw Myron in me. And through Myron, Jesus. Working in me, in somebody who is as emotionally twisted as Myron's legs, who is as socially inarticulate as Myron is verbally.

That is no small thing.