Bushes

I was in Kona, Hawaii. At a giant ministry base that was a hive of activity and missions buzz. I came with a broken heart, choosing to immerse myself and serve with other believers to get my mind off of myself. I had wanted to go somewhere that was needy; I had India in mind. But there was no visa needed for Hawaii, and I was told it was a good location to get a global picture of missions. So I went.

The energy of the place acted like a defibrillator on my heart. People in love with Jesus came there under the banner of “knowing Him and making Him known.” I’d always loved people whose edges didn’t fit inside the cookie cutter. This place exploded with them, and my little heart rejoiced. But I was also wide-eyed by what seemed to me commendable desire mixed with careless claims of hearing God. I had all kinds of inner alarms going off, but sought out quiet places of safe joy.

There was a celebrity of sorts that came through. It seemed people were awed by rumors of gold dust that reportedly appeared in meetings where this man spoke. The wow factor had people starry-eyed and dazzled. Talk seemed mostly about gold dust, though the man also had a reputation for powerful ministry. The meeting was open to us as volunteers for a fee. A fellow volunteer I hardly knew offered to sponsor me. I wasn’t sure. I told my friends if God gave me gold dust, it would just make me mad. I needed bigger things, deeper answers inside, and had no use for wows. A wow alone sounded like a rotten bad joke to my needy heart. But I did need answers, and wondered if this meeting could help.

So I spied. I think there were two series of meetings. The first meeting was held indoors, and I found a hidden stair outside an open door where I just sat and listened. Didn’t come back. For the first night of the second series, held in a covered area outside, I crawled low across the grass behind some nearby bushes to observe. I stayed there even after it was dark. And I decided I’d take up the offer to attend/sit inside the tent.

Inside, a friend thought she had some flecks of gold dust on her and was super excited for some reason I can’t understand. But what happened to me was an experience of a vast sense of God’s love for me in a way I couldn’t remember having known before. No disapproval, no disappointment. Just pure love, saturating me. It went in deep.

I still don’t understand all the wow over bling. I’ve heard people explain why they think it’s so amazing and fantastic. But I can’t relate. I’ve never liked amusement parks and always preferred garlic toast to chocolate cake. But everyone needs love. I walked away with love, bigger that my broken heart, bigger than I could comprehend.

Tonight I had a flashback of being under that bush. I’m still there sometimes, in a sense. Suspicious of the wow. Actually not wanting it. Just wanting love. I don’t need confetti. I need a home and a Father who cooks pancakes. I don’t want to play dress-up. I just want comfortable clothes that fit. I want to be me––just organic, little me. No bling needed.

Back to that bush. God knows I still peer out into the show––that place where He’s loving people and they’re getting all strung out. Some are so relieved to be free, they are spinning with joy under His smile. Some are starry-eyed and addicted to highs and wows. Some are who-knows-what. But then there’s me––wondering, watching, yearning for love. God knows. He’s ok with bushes. He made them. He found Adam and Eve behind one because of shame. He spoke to Moses from one alive in flames. And He unashamedly crawled under one with me. I love Him for it.