caleb.

this excerpt (from chapter 15ish) is very special to me (for obvious reasons). i debated on whether or not i should share it but i finally decided to because i need help with a new chapter and was hoping this one could serve as a template. i'll explain more at the end. 


i cut out some parts that wouldn't have made sense out of the context of surrounding chapters, so just bear with the randoms analogies that seemingly have no reference. 


i incorporated a previous posting "moths. gag." into the book, so you'll recognize the first few lines...

.........In the same vein, I know there are a lot of people who think of Christians and want to gag. They’ve been traumatized by a series of bizarre and probably stupid encounters and now want nothing to do with anyone who calls themself a Christian. They come up with complicated maneuvers to avoid these people. But what if they met JUST ONE Christian or had ONE ENCOUNTER that didn't make them want to run in the other direction? That would be their Gandalf Moth. Maybe it’s a someone, maybe it’s a feeling…maybe its JESUS.

So instead of running from my Damascus Road and my consciousness, instead of giving in to the perplexity, frustration and seeming impossibility of trying to find Christ among the Christianity, I search for the exception. Something that defies my urge to abandon, something that pulls me back to fight for what’s important. Something to hold on to.

For me, it’s Caleb.

When I feel like running, Caleb is what brings me back. Caleb makes me fight. Caleb’s story makes me believe in church and makes me want to keep burrowing until I find more and more pieces of Christ.

.......

Sometimes I think I catch glimpses of Him, in moments of beauty, stillness and awe. Sometimes it’s the really terrible things that call Him to visit.

The most beautiful and the most awful thing happened at my church. Baby Caleb died – that’s the awful part. He was the first baby born into our tiny congregation for as long as I could remember. We all loved him and secretly pretended he belonged to our family and sat in our row of chairs. He was a laughing baby and had big brown eyes and ringlets. When he died, nobody knew what to do. It was like our small church and our small town were paralyzed. Nobody expects babies to die and when they do, there’s not really a protocol in place. My mom was there minutes after they found him and she said even the firemen were frozen.

The beautiful part happened after all of the awful stuff- the tiny casket and trying so hard not to look at his mom, shaking and shaking. The first Sunday after the awful parts, Caleb’s mom called my mom to say they were going to skip church – they couldn’t bear to be in the place where Caleb would be so obviously absent. They were going to stay home and try to pray. Pastor Jim stood behind the pulpit and couldn’t even speak – the empty row in the back glowed in the corners of everyone’s minds. Finally, he choked out what every person was thinking- “what are we doing here?” Everyone got back in their cars and caravanned to the house where the awful things happened. Cars bumpered up the street and filled the front lawn. Crowded into in the living room, everyone shared hymnals and Bibles and God’s family worshipped Him in the house where He took Baby Caleb home, making sure everyone had someone to lean on.

In something as beautiful and as awful as Baby Caleb’s story I sway with a jolt of understanding and then spend the rest of the week scrambling to hold on to it before my eyes cloud over again with theology, culture, false prophecy and my own humanity. For the most whispering of a second, thousands of years seem to fall away and I see what God was doing. I understand Church. I believe in Church. Then the hair starts to grow back and I lose sight of that beautiful bald naked plan we are all chasing after.

so my question to you, average-of-18-hits-a-day-on-this-blog, is:

what is your Caleb?

we all know that the church is messed up - it's inevitable. we're only human. but when you feel like throwing up your hands, what makes you stay and fight? what makes you believe that this is all worthwhile? what reminds you that under all of these shenanigans, there is a God of truth and peace and purpose? 

i'd love to hear your stories. i'm hoping that the chapter after caleb's can include similar reminders and i only have so many storytelling friends :)

-and to clarify, i'm talking about CHURCH stories. i have no doubt God does amazing things in your life. He's not the problem - we are. (no offense, humans everywhere.)  

comment or email me at majecla317@gmail.com