October 12, 2005

Lost and Found

So I'm doing a little CD reviewing for Grassrootsmusic.com. I just got my first set of CDs to review, including the new Project 86. Envy me.

I also received a live worship project from Acquire the Fire, and one song on that disc in particular is giving me trouble. The last part of the chorus goes:

As simple as it sounds
In You my heart is found
I love You, Lord

That line, "In You my heart is found" is the troublesome one. It expresses something I just can't seem to get hold of --- this idea that in a very real, relational, and tangible way, God makes things right, makes a person right.

Fr. George echoed my questions in the homily this week at St. Antony. He said that our communion with God enables us to really love each other, that the redemption of heaven isn't at some fixed point in the elusive future, but now. Now is the time when we have healing and restoration.

I'm not a big watcher of Oprah, but one afternoon a few months ago, I walked by just in time to get pulled in by one particular segment. The story was that an eighteen-month-old (that's "month" as in "a span of approximately 30 days") had been gang raped in Africa, a practice that grows alongside the myth that having sex with a virgin will cure one of HIV. She survived after several hours of surgery to repair her bleeding body.

I cried. There was nothing else to do. I still cried, even as the cameras showed her laughing and adopted face, because I couldn't believe she would ever be really alright.

"The Kingdom is now." If that's true, I should believe that God can fix her. The problem is, I don't.

Later that night, I dreamed. After a classic "naked" dream, I screamed and flashed forward to sitting and talking with other residents in this tall, shadowy house. They were talking about a rape that had happened nearby, taking the tone of the fearless: superficially concerned, but with that certain callous detachedness that flirts with morbid fascination.

I ran to the woods outside and screamed again, this time not a scream of alarm but a cry for safety. Now partly awake, I could direct my dream-self to seek sobbing shelter in arms I created --- the scratchy tunic of Jesus, perhaps, or the cottony T-shirt of a guy I know who works out a lot.

I opened my eyes, sweating and angry, sure that it was midnight and I would spend the rest of the night awake, clammily straining at noises in the house. But it was 6:00, and the gray pre-dawn was already softening the room.

Lord, have I lost my faith in You? Have I lost my faith that you can make someone alright, take someone from ashes to cool, green health?

Somewhere, I think I really do believe that the Kingdom is now --- somewhere, there's this wild hope in me that "in You my heart is found," that the dawn has already blushed, and healing is on its way. And as the day goes on, a toddler in Africa will come to be alright.

Posted by jessica at October 12, 2005 09:01 PM