God's Promise

I’ve never been one to enjoy vulnerability. My first thought is exposure, and my number one priority is “cover-up and hide!” (Genesis 3:8) As I consider those words, I am brought back to one of my first moments of distinct embarrassment.

When I was ten years old, my dad came home with the news that we were moving to Japan. Now, to my two younger siblings and me, this news was unbelievably exciting. (I did not have any real concept of what it meant to live in a country where I did not even know how to ask where the bathroom was; however, my small bladder made this one of the first phrases I did learn.) My mom, on the other hand, was significantly more apprehensive. So many things to consider! Where would we go to school? How would we buy a car? How would we ask for help? Which leads to the ever-impending question in my life: “Do I even ask for help?” All I knew about Japan, at the age of ten, was that the flag had a big red circle on it, and I would be “far away from here”.

Over the next few months, we packed our lives into boxes and prepared for the journey overseas. I was thoroughly excited about moving to the other side of the world, not to mention the plane ride. Because my dad’s business was flying us, we got preferential treatment, and I had this inflated idea that I was royalty. However, my oversized head was quickly downsized. Prior to moving into our house, we stayed at a hotel which happened to have a swimming pool on the top of the building. My siblings and I were having a delightful time swimming in this pool and had a real finesse when it came to cannon-balls. We were especially thrilled when a splash hit Mom and Dad.

One afternoon, I was very intent upon winning our “splashing contest”, and I took a running start as I prepared for the “splash of a lifetime”. As I plunged into the water, I felt a whooshing sensation, and I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had lost something on my way down. My head popped up, and I was mortified when I realized what that “something” was – the top of bathing suit! Of course, as a ten-year old girl, this is especially mollifying; however, I could feel mortification intensifying as I searched for my no-where-to-be-found bathing suit. I made it to a corner, hoping that my brother or sister would be kind enough to help search, but to my even greater dismay, I heard a gentle voice say, “Is this yours?” I glanced up just quickly enough to see my bathing suit top. “It was caught in the filter.” I grabbed the top and braved a look at the person who had found it. He would have to be a ten-year old boy with blond hair and blue eyes… a bit of a MacCaulay Culkin look-alike whom I had a crush on for who knows how many years. My little ten-year old heart felt like it was running a marathon right out of my chest. Needless to say, I did not say much, but put on my top as quickly as I could and prayed with all my might that I would never see this kid again.

My prayer was not answered… OK, scratch that. It was not answered the way I wanted it to be answered. I started school a few days later only to walk straight into the warm blue eyes of my Home Alone star-clone. He had the audacity to smile and wink at me!!! The nerve of this boy!!! He did, however, quickly earn my respect when I learned that he never once shared what had happened in that pool on the roof of a hotel in Japan.

This detailed account of my first memorable experience of embarrassment leads me to share about a more recent experience of chosen vulnerability. One where the end result was a gift. An extremely unexpected gift. (Luke 11:13)

Approximately one year ago, I traveled to the mountains to help coach a song-writing camp for young musicians. I had been asked to share my testimony, but was having difficulty, right up until the moment I took the microphone. What and how much I would share? You see, I have this overwhelming fear of rejection and this lingering addiction to approval. As I wrestled with how far I would let others see into my heart, I recognized the reason for such reluctance to bare my soul. “Ironically,” I was afraid of rejection, and I still wanted approval before being vulnerable. Needless to say, it was God’s nudge… or perhaps I should say “gentle driving force”. I did not know what type of response I would get upon sharing, but I did it. I was open, and I was vulnerable.

Now, I need not mention that the sharing of my testimony has, in the past, resulted in a significant amount of criticism and rejection. Not every time, but enough to imprint fear upon my soul, so I am always just a little bit apprehensive; however, I was somewhat shocked at the response this time… at the salvo of teenage girls who wanted to talk with someone who could relate or would “know where [they are] coming from”. I spent a significant amount of time with each of the girls; however, I was unprepared for the time I spent with the only member under the age of 14 at this camp.

We were walking up a big hill when she asked, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

I smiled, “Sure, you can ask whatever you want, but I might not answer.”

“Becky, if you could go back in time, would you have an abortion again?”

I was unprepared for this question, and I slowed a little to think. I had asked myself this question before, but never had it asked of me.

“All the choices I made have brought me to who and where I am today – in my relationship with God, my family, my friends, and myself. If a different choice would mean a different end result, I don’t know. I do have peace that she is with Jesus.” (Luke 18:15-26)

“Did you name her?”

“I did. Kyrie Eleyson. It means ‘Lord, have mercy’.”

“That’s pretty. She’d be about twelve, huh?”

“Yes…”

“I figured that out when you were sharing your testimony. I’m almost twelve.”

“I know.” I smiled again… it was a sad smile, a smile that held all of the pain and sadness of what I had lost and yet all the joy and freedom of what I had gained.

“She’d forgive you, you know, and she’s waiting for you in Heaven… You know how I know?”

I just looked at this amazingly wise little woman, unsure of what to expect.

“Because I would.” 

Wow…

I swallowed and let the prickle of vulnerability begin its descent from my eyes. For several years, I have known, and believed, that I am forgiven and free and no longer what I once was (Colossians 1:22; 1 Corinthians 6:11), yet there was something far beyond special about hearing those words from the lips of a young girl the same age as my own. Each time I choose to be vulnerable, I face significant risk – the risk for deep rejection and disapproval and criticism, but I also risk being given a gift to which nothing compares. I am so thankful I chose to be vulnerable because I may never have known such a gift had I kept my heart to myself. Besides, as uncomfortable as exposure is, it’s not like hiding would have worked anyway (1 John 3:20).

This afternoon, I am leaving for songwriting camp again, and I am thrilled to be a part of watching the "campers/writers" blow me away yet again. I am thankful for how the Truth of God's promise is not limited to those who are declared profound and eloquent. Sometimes, what we need to hear most comes from those whom we might least expect it (1 Timothy 4:12).  It is my prayer that I listen everywhere, lest I miss what He may want me to hear.