Faith & Space

I've been avoiding writing this blog for a few days now. There are some things that are too hard to express in the tiny casings of words. The second you speak them, they seem small, irrelevant and fuzzy. I feel like this nearly every time I sit down to write about what I'm learning, or what I'm seeing. It's even more clear to me why we use all kinds of art to express ourselves. Words sometimes just don't seem to do enough. They need notes and colors and movement.

Anyway...

My friend Wesley died on Christmas Eve. He died from exposure.

This blog was birthed from the inspiration that came from watching Wesley's story in our short documentary. Ryan and I have both blogged about Wesley. And we would both tell you that of all the people that we've come across, and the deep chasms that seem to divide us, and despite the difficulties of making real friends at the co-op, Wesley was our friend.

I've never had a friend die. I've never had a friend freeze to death. I have no idea what to do with that. I usually spend my time writing on this blog about what God is teaching me, or how I'm seeing him move in particular ways through the lives of the folks I've come across. This last month though, it's almost as though each thing that happens just serves to kick down one wall after another. The news of Wesley's death has left me feeling like all the walls that were built with the bricks of definitions of grace, God, safety, goodness, mercy have all crumbled and I am just surrounded by space. This is not a feeling of safety. All of the sudden I have friends that could potentially die from freezing to death. What in the world does it mean now to call someone my friend? Space. Nothing. No where to grab, no answer to formulate and make me feel safe.

In C.S. Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia, Mr. Beaver is explaining to the children who Azlan the lion is. They ask him if Azlan is safe. Mr. Beaver tells them that Azlan is not safe but he is good. Safety, walls, bricks, these are all things that I'm realizing have very little to do with faith and more to do with what justifies my unwillingness to allow my life to truly be shaped by a God whosuffers. All of the sudden having faith really seems as though I am left to believe the impossible.

I don't want to blog about Wesley dying because I'm not sure what kind of a friend that makes me. I would NEVER let my best friend die from freezing to death. I would fight hell itself to keep that from happening. And in the end if I couldn't keep it from happening, I would probably just grab a coat and blanket and sit right down and endure the cold with her, no matter the outcome. I'm not suggesting that Wesley's death is my fault or that I even could have done anything about it. I'm just saying it's hard for me to talk about it because I don't know what to do with it. I don't know how to hold it or what it says about him or me or God or friendship or choices or community. I just don't know. Space. Too much space and when I start to think about it, I feel like I'm floating or falling through all that space. And I want to grab a hold of some doctrine or some philosophy that makes it all make sense, but I'm just having a hard time finding something to stick to, something strong enough to help close in this space.

I hate ending a blog with out wrapping it up neatly. But this time I have nothing neat and conclusive to say. I'm sad that I didn't get to talk to Wesley, to offer him my roof, to hold him or keep him warm. I'm sad that he died all by himself, whether or not it was his choice to do so. I'm sad that he didn't call me or ask for help. I'm sad that I won't see him again. And I don't know what to do about all of it. And I'm praying that I will see God's face in this somehow, because right now it's blending in with the shadows and all this space.

Grace & Peace

and hope...

Melis