"Tender Moments . . . " Revisited

I have one girl in my class, Archie. Archie has autism. She's actually my first real experience with autism. Kids may say the darn-dest things, but Archie takes the cake. She will often ask questions that she wants you to ask her so that she can let you know what's happening with her . . .

Last week we were doing some testing when she jumped up from the table:

Miss Lisa: "Archie, what are you doing? Sit down, girl, we're not quite finished here."

Archie: "I have to go to the bafroom!"

Miss Lisa: "Well, alright. On you go then!"

Archie (on her way out the door): "Miss Lisa, is that the poop that's coming out?"

Normally, Miss Lisa would say: "Is it, Archie?" However, on this occasion . . .

Miss Lisa: "It better not be until you are on the toilet, young lady! Go, GO, GO!!!"

And SCENE!!!

A Safe Place

I recently spoke with a friend whom I had been out of touch with for many years. As we filled one another in on our lives, I was stunned to learn that my friend had suffered horrific events and painful hardships. What really upset me was that these things occurred in a large environment of Christians and my friend could find no sanctuary. I was outraged because the safest place on this earth should be the body of Christ. My first instinct was to say, “If I had known, I would have been there for you.” I knew immediately, however, that was not true. I was so entangled in my own struggles during those years that I don’t know what I’d have done. I have a feeling, though, that I would not have been compassionate or supportive.

I was heartbroken and wept after our conversation. I wept for my precious friend. I wept over the realization that I would have failed them even if we had remained in contact. I wept over the idea that anyone would have to endure such trials alone.

By the grace of God, through renewed, regular Bible study and experiencing the love and example of the saints at the Open, I know better now. I understand more the compassion Christ shows to people. It seems silly to say that. I’ve been a Christian and loved God for most of my life, yet somehow I missed something somewhere. That sounds sillier to me because I was a student of His word. I read the stories. I learned about Jesus and saw how He cared for people. Lonely people, hurting, confused people; people who were broken by sin and despair. So how could I have missed it?

When I started developing this post in my head, it was borne out of anger, frustration—and was intended as a rant against all that is wrong in the church. I had a hard time finding the words, oddly enough. Weeks later I realize that harsh words would not be constructive or right. God has always been faithful about sealing my lips and blocking my pen when I’m angry. The truth is, it doesn’t matter why or how I missed the mark. What matters now is that I don’t miss it anymore. The best way I can facilitate change is to start with myself. Jesus was always a safe place for the lost, hurting, and broken. If I am truly seeking to be like Him, then I must be the same. Whether that means showing compassion to someone who’s never known Jesus or seeking out my brothers and sisters, too ashamed and broken by sin, who feel they can never come home. Lord God, please help me be like Jesus . . . help me be a safe place.