standing in the gap

I am a natural-born giver. If I see a need, I long to fulfill it. If someone is in trouble, I want to help. Some might say that this desire isn't so much innate as it is the result of coming from a broken home and falling into the role of caretaker at a very young age. However I've come to it, I love to serve.

On the flip side, I am not a good receiver. I feel funny when people give me gifts. I don't ask for help. I'm not needy. This could be the way I protected myself as a child so I wouldn't be disappointed when the things I longed for most weren't fulfilled. I just decided not to want anything.

When I wrote the post last week that highlighted our financial situation, I knew I was taking a risk by being so transparent, but I didn't think about the fact that I was opening myself up to being a receiver. Many people reached out with encouragement, sympathy and difficult stories of their own. A couple people gave us gifts. One was monetary.

When money was offered my immediate impulse was to refuse. But the offer was presented so winsomely. This couple, who we haven't known particularly long but who we deeply admire and love, told us that they needed us to help them live out their baptismal covenant, that they made vows that involved our family. That they had agreed to surround our family with a community of love and forgiveness, that we might grow in our trust of God, and be found faithful in our service to others. That they had accepted the freedom and power God gives to resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves. And this was all reason enough, even as a family with little extra to share, to offer to help us pay our bills.

"It is not right for you to face this alone," they wrote to us, "and it would be even more wrong for us to turn away from you as if we were not your family."

It was hard to say no to the offer. So, overwhelmed, we humbly, appreciatively, and somewhat awkwardly, accepted, and unknowingly gave God a foothold to do something unexpected in our lives.

Several weeks ago, I went to my grandparents' alma mater to participate in a homecoming celebration that honored their legacy. During the weekend, my uncle Dan spoke at the college chapel service. He shared a passage in the gospel of Mark about some people who brought a deaf and mute friend to Jesus for healing. Dan talked about the unnamed "they" who brought the man as being the hero of the story. "They" were advocates. "They" were the voice for a man who had none. "They" pleaded on his behalf. "They" stood in the gap.

I loved the message. As a giver, it excited and inspired me. Yes, I thought, I do this. I make meals for people in need. I hang out with lonely people at our church's Third Tuesday Suppers. As a family, we have long-term plans to foster and possibly adopt. And I want to do more advocating, more giving, on a global scale. A friend to the friendless. A voice for the voiceless. Never once did it occur to me that I could be the mute man.

And, yet, here we are. In trouble. In need. Receiving from others who are standing in the gap for our sake. It's strange and humbling and beautiful. It takes my breath away. It's not at all what I expected being a receiver would be like.

Two days after I put up my post I learned that a new friend was going to be evicted from his apartment. Interestingly, or perhaps ironically, this man truly is deaf and mute. I sit with him every month at Third Tuesday Suppers using what very little sign language I know, and speaking the universal language of smiles and hugs. No one lights up a room like Keith. And the fact that this lovely, hard-working, college-educated man would be put out on the street because he lost his overtime at a job he's held for 20 years and can't make enough regular wage to make his very modest ends meet made my heart ache. I felt furious at the injustice and humbled that his immediate situation was so much worse than ours.

Within 24 hours, a family had formed to stand in the gap for Keith and help him stay in his apartment. And, because of the gift we were given, we could give some of the money back and be part of this family. But this time, I wasn't giving because I was born to or because my past was dictating my behavior. I wasn't patting myself on the back for being the hero of the story.

We gave simply because we had an idea of what desperate feels like, and what grace could do. We knew that our friends weren't standing in the gap for us so we could see how awesome they were or so that they could rescue us from all our troubles. They were doing it so we could be touched by Jesus. So that we could get a glimpse of something holy. And, no matter what, we had to help give Keith a glimpse, too.

I am finally learning that giving isn't about us doing good. At its best, giving is an uncontrollable pouring out simply because we've been poured on. It's about being a family, about living in holy community. It's about being the mute man and getting a glimpse of true forgiveness, sacrifice and love.

Because, in the end, we are all the mute man. We all have soul-crushing needs and awful truths about our lives, and when we stand in the gap for each other we are setting off a chain reaction, breaking through the veil to give each other a beautiful glimpse of God's kingdom that truly is among us.