Making a Mess Out of Making Sense

It was a rough night in the cottage, everyone. I’ve been more awake than asleep since 2am when Lifa’s nightmares started, complete with thrashing, screaming, kicking and the saddest SiSwati cries for help. Oh… and peeing right through the Pull-Ups. (We smell awesome.)

For months, I’ve been looking forward to my friends Mona, Lindsay and Anda coming for a two week visit. We all know that this trip is going to change them forever – God’s already been preparing their hearts and moving them toward His Kingdom.

And having people I know and love from that side of the world come to this side… people who I know and love come to know Lifa and see what life looks like here, means more to me than a blog could ever communicate. The power of the Body of Christ comes to life… coming to my daily life. Changes everything. The Kingdom expands and takes on hands, feet and hugs right before my very eyes. 

It’s the most beautiful gift… For everyone reading this and not on a plane to Africa right now, this is your formal invitation!

So… is perfection too much to ask after all this build-up and excitement?

Lifa and I are making the four-hour road trip to the capital city, Johannesburg, today to meet them at the airport, stay overnight and drive them home tomorrow. I wanted things to be perfect.

I was counting on Lifa to feel more adjusted (the last week has been amazing and nightmare-free!), the car to be clean, everything to already be packed and prepared, and the cottage to be in order.

Instead, nobody slept, the sheets need to be washed, nothing is packed, I’m not sure where my friends are sleeping yet, the cottage is a disaster and I’m not exactly sure how to get to Jo-burg yet. Oh… and did I mention that I just found a baby mouse in my kitchen sink, floating in a pot that was soaking overnight. (Yes, I just gagged and then posted it for you to do the same.) ToTo, we’re not in America anymore.

But Jesus, You are still perfect.

And You’ve been saying this year will be messy… the Kingdom of heaven meeting the kingdom of earth has been messy since the beginning.

My God is always sovereign.

Grace, salvation and perfect love came messy.

I’m stressed because my clothes aren’t folded and put away. Soldiers cast lots for Yours as though Calvary was a glorified, crucified garage sale.

I want everything to be perfectly done – to make sense.

But everything seemed undone and broken when You said, “It is finished.”

Experiencing You.

Knowing You.

Tasting You.

Touching You.

Communing with You.

Living with You.

All come with the most messy, beautiful grace – the kind that doesn’t make sense.

Curled up in a blanket in the chair in the corner of the cottage, I see little shoes and big shoes, stuffed animals, one pile of folded laundry and one that got danced on and then kicked over in a tantrum…. And the most perfect little boy who cries out “Mama” in the middle of the night while he sleeps.

Nothing I can see from here makes sense.

Living in Africa doesn’t make sense.

Spending over a thousand dollars to experience a few weeks in Africa doesn’t make sense.

A baby, rejected by an innkeeper, born to a virgin in a stack of hay to be heaven on earth and deliver the  most personal invitation to family in the history of humanity doesn’t make sense.

That same baby – the Son of Man – living 33 sinless years, being tortured, beaten and broken on a cross, the messiest and most public death, to atone for our messes and secure our seat at the most heavenly dinner table doesn’t make sense.

That same Son of Man living an upside down life by playing with the kids, hanging out with whores and rejects, and spending his last hours without nails in his hands by washing the feet of those who’d betray him and healing the ears of those carrying him away doesn’t make sense.

That same Upside Down Son of Man, dying a messy, dirty, brutal death that was celebrated and done, and then coming back for more. Overcoming the grave to come back and say that we’ve not only been made clean, but we’ve been made heirs – full rights as adopted, dearly loved, messy-made-righteous sons and daughters of the King of Kings doesn’t make sense.

So maybe… maaayyybeeee…

I’ll stop trying to clean up messes and making sense out of the small picture I have of God’s Kingdom. I’m sizing up a mess from my corner vantage point in the cottage and realizing I don’t even see a corner of the Kingdom and the most glorious restoration story God has for his children – for Lifa, Mona, Lindsay, Anda, me and for you.

Everything feels undone today.

Instead of trying to do what’s undone, I choose to worship the One who did it all already. And who exists in the mess, and makes it beautiful.

I trust You with my heart and with the hearts of all Your children. 

Jesus, undo me, Mona, Lindsay and Anda. Set our hearts on the Kingdom rather than perfection. Show us how You see beauty and let us feel Your heart in the messes. More of Your presence and less of our humanity.

Come with us today. Do the things that need to be done and let us find you in what’s left undone. Thank you for loving me when I’m so messy that I’m frantically trying to clean. Thank you for making a place for me in your beautifully mess grace.

Your Kingdom Come, Your Will be Done.