In the Struggle

I've been struggling with a lot.

Racism, sexism, faith-ism, and unhealthy choices in my neighborhood.

Racism, sexism, faith-ism, and unhealthy choices in my own life.

But today, I've been struggling with the fax machine, which is simultaneously the most outdated and most essential piece of technology in our office, apparently. It was something about an unlabeled box and old ink and not shaking it (whatever "it" is... the diagram was supremely unhelpful) enough. And while my hands were being covered in black powder (is that supposed to happen? don't even know...), words from a couple months ago echoed in my mind. It was early Thanksgiving morning and I was unloading the dishwasher and complaining to Jesus. Telling him that I felt entirely inadequate to respond to the ideas and problems rattling around in my head. Telling him that I was sick of thinking about oppression and the ways that I let it happen in the world and in my heart. Telling him that this bringing of his kingdom,  this fighting for a new woman and a new world, sometimes brings with it the sensation of drowning. And right there, among the plates and cups and bowls, Jesus brushed up against my shoulder, leaned in close, and whispered, "In the struggle, you'll know me."

When I'm having a conversation with one of my roommates or neighbors or clients and they're walking through messy and hard times and I can't get my mind off myself, I'll know his forgiveness. When I find that my expectations of people are all tied up in their gender and race, I'll know his grace. When I need people to want me, delight in me, think I'm wonderful and perfect, I'll know his sufficiency. When I'm confused about who he even is, I'll know that he is Yahweh, the God who is who he is, and that will be okay because "is the great heart of the reality of God to speak in only the broken accent that I can follow after?" And when the struggle of the moment is the fax machine, Jesus is still brushing up against me and letting me feel his heartbeat. So okay, Jesus. I'll rejoice in these tensions and curl up on the couch with the uncomfortable questions because they're the road I walk, dance, stumble down to find you.

I will get up now and go about the city,
    through its streets and squares;
I will search for the one my heart loves.
-from Song of Solomon