Hands and Feet

I’ve been at
college for five weeks now and it’s still kind of surreal. The other night I
was walking back to my dorm, and it hit me how normal being here had become. It
reminded me of the blog I wrote back in Swaziland about how strange and
disconcerting it was that I was able to normalize being in Africa. In my
anthropology class we learned that in terms of evolutionary advantage,
primates’ behavioral flexibility and resulting ability to adapt to just about
anything is the key to our “domination” of the planet. Obviously I don’t think
that we’re primates, but I do think that the ability to change, the ability to
adapt to new circumstances, our overwhelming tendency to normalize things is
our way of coping with change. Otherwise we wouldn’t be able to survive in a
world where nearly nothing is consistent. I’m not necessarily surprised that
I’ve adapted, instead I’m surprised that when I was in Africa and had adapted
to seeing starving children everywhere I was alarmed and slightly horrified at
my own callousness, but when I’m in college and grow accustomed to seeing the
brokenness here I feel no cause for anxiety. The reality is that depravity is
depravity no matter what it looks like. Just as no sin is greater or less than
any other sin, the need for God is universal in magnitude regardless of
circumstances. I want to be just as broken for the people on campus as I am for
the people of Swaziland. It’s all too easy to retreat into my own little
universe here and live in an isolated bubble.

But don’t think
that since I’ve been home I’ve been in constant inner turmoil. I know you may
get that idea from reading my blogs, because in retrospect they’re all a tad
depressing post-Swaz. I just never think to write about all the wonderful
things happening in my life. That’s probably because I’m a verbal processor,
and I always find more of a need to process the hard things than the good
things. And also, who says the hard things, the ones that really challenge us,
and yes, sometimes produce a few somewhat unpleasant emotions, aren’t good? To
the contrary, I find that they’re often the most good. Anyways, I’ll tell a
story that isn’t so depressing just to brighten the mood a little.

Since I’ve been
at UF, I’ve been hunting for a really solid group of Jesus loving people who I
could be real with, and who I could be challenged by, and learn from, and
pursue what it means to really
follow Christ with. I’ve been searching for community. So I started looking
into some campus ministries. I liked them all, but I just didn’t really feel
like I connected anywhere, like I was where God wanted me to be. So last
Tuesday I went to yet another small group to try it out, and it was good.
People were real and vulnerable and I felt like I could see myself there. But
for some reason, I felt like crying the whole time. Afterwards I went outside
to be with God and just think. I was crying, and praying, and I felt so
hopeless. Like I would never find people I truly connected with and I would
never feel happy here. God was so clear to me though. He showed me how I had
been trying to find community on my own, and I was putting all of my hope in
people and circumstances, so it was no wonder that I felt hopeless. In the
midst of this, I got this image in my head of someone walking over to me and
asking if I was all right, and then giving me a hug. I didn’t give this thought
much attention, other than thinking that it would be kind of nice if that
happened. After about thirty minutes of being pitiful I wiped off my face and
started to stand up, and this girl came out of nowhere and started walking up
the stairs I was sitting on. She looked at me, and asked, “Are you okay?” and I
responded the way any normal person who isn’t okay does, “Yeah I’m fine.” But
she persisted, “No really, are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?” In that
moment I remembered the thought I had had ten minutes before and it clicked,
God had sent me exactly what I wanted and needed. So I caved, and just started
vaguely expressing how I was feeling, how I had set my hopes on all these
things that kept disappointing me. She paused for a second and then said, “I
don’t want to be all religious or anything, but….” And I just laughed and held
up my bible, and we both understood what was going on. So we talked for a few
minutes, and she invited me to come to a bible study/small group with her the
next night (Which, incidentally, I loved and have continued to go to. Isn’t it
funny that when I stopped looking for community myself, God took over and led
me exactly where I wanted to go in the first place?). She gave me a hug and we
walked back to our dorm together. I was so comforted by her presence and her
kindness.

Once I got back
into my room I realized that I had just been on the receiving end of Christ’s
love and care for me in a tangible sense through someone who was acting as his hands
and feet here on earth.

And it’s a
beautiful thing, to be taken care of and loved by the Body.