Reflection For a Fallen Sparrow - Gibson

Lakshmi* is a Christian Dalit woman I met in India years ago. Her gentle smile and deeply haunted eyes, caught in a photo, captivated me long before I made the trip.

Over there, despite the barriers between us—language, nationality, distance—we formed a connection I can’t explain.

During a Bible study in her Eastern Indian city recently, Lakshmi—lovely, wraith-thin, long-ill—sank to the floor, seized with convulsions. An even closer friend, the study leader, snapped a photo and emailed it to me.

Lakshmi lies on the floor like a fallen sparrow. Her tangled saree, a puddle of azure blue, splashes over the cement. Its colours blur—she writhes. Brown hands hover over her skeletal frame, entreating the monstrous motion to stop. Praying for healing, for Christ’s presence, for her not to swallow her tongue.

Someone inserts a silver spoon in her gasping mouth. Stainless steel. The irony doesn’t escape me. The spouse of a no-gooder, a wife-beater, Lakshmi was born impoverished. Lakshmi is still impoverished.

The shot slices me. I loathe it.

I have sent Lakshmi aid, as we rich Westerners often do when confronted with mountainous need. Rupees for a few groceries, a little medicine, a trip to the doctor perhaps. But my friend needs much more than I can give.

Jesus said that human need will never end. I’ve come to accept that to be a child of Adam is to suffer, to experience want along some lines—conscious or unconscious. Somewhere, there will always be a pain in need of a balm, a stomach that needs refueling, a child who cries alone.

Yes, God shows up, often miraculously banishing need. But sometimes people of faith die in fear and pain, while people of no faith whatsoever accept their end quietly and peacefully.

I’m so glad I don’t have to figure all that out. Glad too, that I’m neither judge nor savior.

What I know is precious little, but what I know is precious: Creator God, for whom our cosmos is but a speck of lint on his breast pocket—had he one—chooses relationship with us earthlings. Pursues us with love. Rewards faith. Meets our deepest needs for validation and inner peace. Sends the sweet companionship of his Holy Spirit – wherever we fall.

Life is but a dandelion puff, and I’ve had my fill of leaning on spiderwebs. Simple certainty remains: God cares for us and our needy friends in ways we cannot now comprehend. He allows us the blessing of lifting each other up, and not one of us deserves that.

We especially don’t deserve to benefit from what Christians prepare to celebrate: the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Yet his sacrifice, if we accept it, dissolves our sin, stamps us “forgiven,” and restores us to an eternity of opportunity.

Father in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.

But oh, my God, hold tightly to my fellow fallen sparrow.

*not her real name

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Kathleen Gibson author, faith and life columnist

this column was published in Yorkton This Week, March 10
and at www.kathleengibson.ca/sunnysideup,

Mentors - Grove

I love the concept of mentoring. It makes a million miles of sense. When I talk about mentoring, I feel all warm and fuzzy, I sigh a secret smile and think, "Ah me, what a wonderful thing, to help and be helped."

Then reality smacks me upside the head and says, "Hey, girly-girl, wake up! You know better!"

Better?

Oh yeah, I know better. I know the difference between giving mental ascent to a concept and living that concept out in real life. Take Christianity. Wowee, there's a concept. Total redemption, forgiveness, salvation, peace like a river. I'm all in! (and I am - all of me). But when it comes to living out the life Christ demonstrated for us - well, warm fuzzies flee. The Christian life is "simple", but difficult to live. It takes a moment to moment relationship with Christ, a second by second checking with the Spirit connection. It takes every part of us. The wonderful concept of salvation, played out in the life of any one individual is complicated, intricate, messy, involved - and sometimes a struggle. (Which is why I don't waste my money buying books by preachers who would have us believe that God is a great big sugar-daddy in the sky just waiting to hand you all the money, power, and SUVs you deserve - but that's another blog).

So what has this got to do with mentoring?

I recently received an e-mail from someone who took a bold and courageous step outside herself and reached out to me, asking if I would consider being a writing mentor to her. She's a big fan of my blog, and she's looking for someone to offer a guiding friendship to help her on her way. Flattered, I'm sure. Who, me? Gosh! But that feeling quickly faded.

Two things hit me in quick succession: 1) This woman's courage is to be admired. How many of us would look at something (in this case a blog), admire it, and say - I'm going out on a limb and ask the author if she would consider helping me? How many of us? I think that takes guts!

2) Mentoring is hard work. It's the ugly girl at the dance that everyone feels sorry for but never asks to dance. It's the job we all know could be done, should be done, but no one can seem to find the time to do it (like discipleship - or confessing our sins to one another - or submitting to the spiritual authority of our pastor - or any other spiritual discipline we don't like doing and so have conveniently cut out of our faith with a clean razor and walked away from).

And I suppose it would make sense if I ended this blog post with a pithy truism, or at the very least, a tidy concept that cleaned up the theme and put it in a tidy pile. But, I don't have any good ending - no one-two punch that makes it all make sense. But I suspect you will forgive me for that. And I hope that you and I can stroll this road together awhile as we take in the scenery, and think thoughts.

Bonnie Grove is the author of three upcoming books: Non-fiction - Your Best You: Discovering and Developing the Strengths God Gave You (March 1, 2009. Beacon Hill Press). Fiction - Talking to the Dead (Summer 2009) and Talking to Angels (Spring 2010 - both from David C. Cook). You can visit Bonnie at her website www.bonniegrove.com and her blog http://www.fictionmatters.blogspot.com, or follow her on Twitter (just add BonnieGrove).