isaiah 61

december, two thousand eighteen

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn; To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified. (Isaiah 61:1-3)

I climbed into the van, thrilled to be back at Thursday church after three long years, and eager to see which children God was going to bring into my life. A couple weeks later, I despaired, “God, why did You put me with the worst-behaved girls in the whole church?”

I listened to my girls talk. I looked deep into their eyes. I smelled the marijuana wafting through the air as I stepped up to knock on their closed door. And my heart began to break. I knew I needed to make a choice. I could choose to enter into their rocky world, or I could look away.

I spent hours with them: talking and laughing and making memories. I wrestled with wanting to snatch them out of their home, getting angry at the world that lets innocent children suffer. I wept as I caught glimpses of the chaos they lived in. I begged God to protect my girls. Time after time, I carried them to the throne and left them in the hands of my all-powerful God.

One day, those girls disappeared. They moved without saying goodbye or telling me where they went. At first, trying to deny that the inevitable had really happened, I told myself, “God probably has other girls He wants me to love instead.”

The same day I found out those girls were gone from my life, I climbed into a different church van. This time, I welcomed Emma, a girl whom I had taught when she was eight. She was now fourteen. I asked, “So, Emma, how was your day?”

“Good!” she replied, “well, actually, not very good. I was supposed to have a court hearing today but it got canceled cause the line was too long. So I have to go back January 9^th. I have two more court hearings. One because I vandalized a building with some of my friends and need to be put on probation. The other one because my parents gave me weed. The judge said that if I vandalize any more buildings or smoke any more weed or get into one more fight, I’m gonna get placed.”

“What do you mean by getting placed?” I wanted to be sure I knew what she meant. My head warned me that I might not have long with this child either.

“It means I’ll go to foster care or a group home,” she replied.

As we kept talking, my heart ached, then started to break. And suddenly, I knew I had a choice to make. I could enter in once again to her chaos, walk beside her and point her to the One who could empower her to change her life, or I could look away.

Would I allow God to give me the strength to pour my life out again, with my head saying all along that this relationship will end in heartbreak too? Do I dare hope that this time might be different, that this time I might see her change and grow? As the days went by, I wrestled. I prayed, “God, my heart wants to love her but my head says I’ll end up with a broken heart just like it did with my other girls.”

A couple weeks later, I sat in a beautiful cathedral in my beloved city. Beautiful music filled the room. Then the director announced, “Tonight we are privileged to premiere the piece, ‘Isaiah 61’.” My heart lurched. Those were the very verses that had started me on this journey. This journey of loving and caring and giving that so far, had always ended up with a broken heart.

I bowed my head, listened, and wept as the music swept over my soul. It felt like God was saying, “You are right where you’re supposed to be. Go, pour out your life here and take the opportunities I give you.”

Three days later, I went. I picked her up to go with me as I shopped. My heart ached as I smelled the mixture of weed and cigarettes on her clothes when she climbed into the seat beside me. She was full of questions as she tried to sort out what she heard at the different churches she has attended. When she climbed out of the car, I said, “Emma, remember that the Bible is the only thing that is right. Everything else must line up with the Bible.”

As she walked down the sidewalk, my heart ached again. “God, can I keep doing this? Loving and caring, only to have my heart break again?”

january, two thousand nineteen

 I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels. For as the earth bringeth forth her bud, and as the garden causeth the things that are sown in it to spring forth; so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring forth before all the nations. (Isaiah 61: 10, 11)

Several weeks later, my heart was heavy as I sat on the edge of the bed and opened the Bible I had bought for Emma. “God, please allow me to see Emma before her court hearing!” I had highlighted verses in it, hoping that would encourage her to read it. Now I wanted to write a prayer in the front before I gave it to her.

Pen in hand, I started writing. “Dear Emma… “My fingers started shaking, and I couldn’t write very well.

“God, you know I feel that Satan doesn’t want me to give her this Bible. Help me write this, and give me the chance to see her one more time.” I calmly continued to write.

Hey Emma, what are you doing this afternoon? I texted. 

“God, please let it work out if it’s Your will,” I pleaded once again. I went on with my Saturday as planned, praying that God’s will would be done. But she never replied. As time ticked on, the burden on my heart grew, knowing that every minute increased the likelihood of never seeing her again.

By the time church was over the next morning, I had decided. I must drive the thirty minutes to her house to go find her. As I walked out the door after lunch, I remembered she had texted me her mom’s phone number once.

            Quickly scrolling back through the messages, I found it, and dialed.

            “Hello?” a voice answered.

            “Hi! Is this Emma’s mom?” I asked, my hopes soaring.

            “Whose mom?” the feminine voice replied.

            “Emma’s,” I responded. Then, suddenly recognizing the voice, I exclaimed, “Emma! How are you?” She told me that she was at her aunt’s house, and I could see her for a few minutes.

            Thirty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of the apartment buildings where her aunt lived. I called her again. “Hey, I’m here!”

            She met me outside, and one of the first things she said was, “My court hearing is tomorrow. And there’s almost one hundred percent chance that I’ll be placed.” My heart wept, No! Just like my intuition told me, she’s leaving… And I had so many things I wanted to do together!

            We talked for several minutes, and I gave her my gift. I discovered that Emma and her sister needed to head home. They had come on a bike and a scooter, but it was a cold day to be outside. Delighted to push off the goodbye a little longer, we loaded their things into my car, and headed uptown.

Too soon we arrived at their house, and the inevitable goodbye. Would I ever see this precious girl again? I wanted to hold her tight and never let go - to protect her, to keep her from disappearing out of my life.

             Goodbye, we said. Oh, I was left with so many unspoken words.

            I climbed into my car, and watched her walk down the sidewalk to her apartment. As I drove away, my heart broke. “God, why do I have to do this again?”

            The days passed, and I wrestled with questions while my heart bled. “God, it’s so hard!” I sobbed one night. “Why do I always love so hard, and then fall so hard, too? I have dreams for my girls, but they all go crashing to the ground. Every time. I chose to love – and then this. I know You can protect them much better than I can and You can bring people into their lives to teach them more about You, but it’s so hard! They’re my girls, because I love them! But yet not mine… because they are Yours.”

            In the anguish of the night, the words echoed, So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. (Isaiah 55:11) I opened my heart to the promise, and clung to the words of God.

-first published in the Companions