fireplace: a common mission, a deeper love

Question: What kind of God would put people through such agony? What kind of God would give you families and then ask you to leave them? What kind of God would give you friends and then ask you to say good-bye?
Answer: A God who knows that the deepest love is build not on passion and romance but on a common mission and sacrifice.
Answer: A God who knows that we are only pilgrims and that eternity is so close that any “Good-bye” is in reality a “See you tomorrow.”
Answer: A God who did it himself.

No Wonder They Call Him Saviour, Max Lucado, pg 21.

Maybe this short snippet caught my attention because that’s what I’ve been writing about. Daniel, the protagonist in our church musical, has lost both his parents. Edmund and Emily Lee have lost their only son. I’ve been delving into loss with this story, curling up around hurt and emotional scars on and off for the past three months. There is a lot of loss, but also a lot of hope, because they find a family in each other - at least Daniel and Emily do.

And yet thinking about it again, maybe what really caught me was that first answer which resonated deep within - that the deepest love is not build on passion and romance but on a common mission and sacrifice. I’ve griped often enough that I’m tired of being single. It hurts to be single sometimes when everyone else seems to have a life partner. It’s tiring when people ask something along the lines of “so when are you going to get one?” as if getting a boyfriend is like browsing on the shelves for an eligible guy and picking one. I’ve liked enough guys in my lifetime but it always comes round to the question of where we’re heading.

As picky as it may sound, I would find it very frustrating to live with someone who does not understand music and who does not understand this overwhelming drive for stories. He doesn’t have to be a musician/singer-songwriter/author/actor/dancer for me to fall in love with him (though any one, or a combination, of those would be awesome), but there must be an ability to appreciate these arts, to get it. There must also be a capacity to work at something to its completion, to sacrifice sleep, to keep pressing on in our craft just because “this was what we were made to do”.

I need him to be the flint, the iron that sharpens iron, the deep that calls out to deep, and I want to be the same for him. But this can only work if we are moving in the same direction, with the same calling.

Oh, I want passion and romance as much as the next girl, but somehow, that’s not enough. I want a life partner with whom I can serve. I want someone who I can partner with in ministry. I’ve always thought that husband/wife teams in ministry are the sweetest thing ever - and also the most effective and powerful.

I know I’ve gone off tangent to what Lucado was trying to say, talking of a ministry that drips with the tears of farewell. I’ve known good-byes. I know impermanence, and the feeling of loss even when there is none. But I also know that He has done this so that there is hope and hellos in our future as well, not only the tears of good-bye.