She walked through the door, her hair was tousled and windblown. Her face was radiant yet broken. Her eyes met mine, and I knew we were kindred in Spirit.
Her story she had yet to tell, I only had but a few headlines. An introduction made through a text from a friend. I ask her what her story is, and she begins to share about her childhood and her love for her family–how she was a bright child and loved to learn, but she didn’t fit in and was bullied. Her eyes staring at the table she shares that she is struggling. The weight of wanting the right things in life, but feeling tethered to the world and to her past. The lies she has believed for so long continue to present themselves, reminding her she doesn’t belong here. Her familiar life is just one turn in the other direction, and she is comfortable there because it knows her.
My eyes never leaving hers, I remind her that He has come for her. That he knows her by name and there is not one thing she has ever done that He is unaware of and in fact, it is because of those things that He fought for her, that He went to the end of this earth for her and beyond. She isn’t sure. I can see she wants to believe that she was made for something greater, but she just doesn’t know how.
I ask her about her faith. She tells me that it’s easier to be with the God of nature than it is God the Father. I understand—for that is how He speaks to me too, through the waves of the ocean, a bird in flight, a cloud in the sky—or the moon at night. I see His hand in creation, and He meets me there.
I tell her my father abandoned me before I was born so it was difficult to see God as a Father who would never leave or forsake me. I remind her that He knows us, He created us. He knows the desires of our heart, and He speaks our language. He will meet us there. He will draw us to Himself in whatever ways He sees fit.
We talk about the power of a cupcake and the mystery of music and how God uses even those things to speak to our hearts. We share a history of cities we’ve lived and the jobs we’ve had and the places we long to go. The knitting of hearts is beginning as we go deeper into the discussion about mistakes we’ve made, abuses we’ve suffered and the grief that dwells in our hearts.
Without even realizing it, a bond is taking place. This is the beauty of grace. It makes time. It seeks out when it could withdraw. It finds beauty in the broken and reaches out some more. It creates a quilt from brokenness. Remnants of an ongoing story where we find warmth under its weight because the Creator of the universe is delicately stitching it piece by piece.
She cried out to God so many times. She’d given her heart and more so many times, and here she was, depleted and weary, fearful and yet curious. What if? What if the God of the universe whom she believed was a God of rules that required religious practices was indeed a Man who saw her, knew her and chose her anyway? What if? What if all the things that she thought would push her farther from God were actually bringing her closer to Him? What if?
My thoughts drift to a life-sized photograph of the woman on the wall of an adult bookstore in Atlanta. Its been over ten years since I saw that picture, but her face is still as fresh as the day in my mind. What was supposed to be a quick delivery of ministry flyers ended up changing the course of my day and much more to follow. Her beautiful hair, her radiant eyes, the beauty of her soul. She was wholly on display for all to see and here I was, in the middle of a downtown hole-in-the-wall porn shop, unable to take my eyes off of her.
I am shaken and confused at how I ended up at this moment. I cry out to God because I feel like I am supposed to despise her—and yet, she is the most radiant woman I have ever seen. I am captivated and drawn to her. I ask Him through a whisper of my broken heart: “What is this?” “What is it about this woman that makes her so undeniably beautiful and draws me to see deeper within?” He whispers back: “You saw through My eyes. That is how I see her– radiant, flawless and chosen…and that is how I see you.”
I realize I have drifted off in thought. I don’t think she notices. Her posture is relaxed which tells me she is comfortable as she makes eye contact with me and smiles. As our meeting comes to a close, she thanks me. I say: “It is Him, without a doubt He has arranged everything that brought us here for such a time as this.” I see it resonate.
As I walk out the door I have a whisper on my lips to God once again– but this time it says: “I hope You give her Your eyes to see me with.”
Rebellious Grace 