my cup

As a community, my WMF team has been discussing Henri Nouwen's book, Can You Drink the Cup? It's about what it means to drink fully the cup of Christ in all it's horror, humanity, and joy. We spent some time writing down what "our cup" holds for us here in Kolkata, what we must drink every last drop of. Some days the cup seems easier to drink than other days. Some days, like Christ I wish for another, perhaps a different kind of cup or contents. But without the bitter, there would be no sweet. I'm rediscovering the beauty of intentionally caring for a group of people, and letting them care for me... I'm remembering how to trust. I'm so aware of my own lacking here, that the love of people washes over me in deep and refreshing ways. What follows are my thoughts on what I have only just begun to taste. From those first sips I can see that the cup is full, and that it holds both the tasteful, distasteful, and the tasteless. From all three, good Lord, deliver me. This is what I wrote during our time together. This is my cup:

I landed bright eyed and newborn on the runway.
Joy has been lying dormant.
Self-doubt has chopped itself a space in my life in withering ways.
Questions about God have abused God's love.

My cup is full of healing. It's time for my trust to blossom and reclaim itself from the winter of deep hurt. I choose to trust perfect love that will not reject me. The cup of healing requires reconciliation. It's time to rejoin myself with people. To find community in my teammates, the beautiful children and women of Shanti dan, and the poor and prostituted in Kolkata. It's time to reconcile my heart with the protection of God as father, recognizing that this doesn't give him the broken traits of man. I drink the cup, and find the strength to claim the name Gomer and run on home.

As I drink deeper I discover humility. I am like the ants at my feet, bumping into walls and eachother in a mad scramble to carry a load to heavy in a time too short. I must drink deeply the humility of Christ. I must learn that the poor have a beautiful theology, often more truthful than my own. I want to be taught by the goodness in those around me. The courage of the women seeking freedom from prostitution that is slavery, rather than an occupation. I would cry "abuse" and cling to my anger. The "simple" women at Shanti Dan who have more love in their twisted limbs and burdened minds than in my entire being. They embrace me over and over without bothering to know me... if I'm worth it... if I deserve it. Kolkata is a cup brimful of humility.

Here in this place, I want to laugh all of my laughter and cry all of my tears. The deep intersection between sorrow and joy is the call to Christ. I want to know sorrow. It's time for joy to rise up. This is my cup.