Confessions of my Yeahbut

This week several friends shared link to a sweet video about a man with visible disability who owns a business. In the video we see him doing the things he does best: encouraging, hugging, speaking love into people's lives. This business is a dream fulfilled for him. It is definitely a feel-good video. 

Then my Yeahbut kicked in, the part of me that questions things, that pokes around at the surface to find the underside. Sometimes I discover the ugly beneath the beautiful. Sometimes I discover the beautiful beneath the ugly. One thing is fairly certain: There is always more than meets the eye.

This time the Yeahbut proposed, "Yeah, but I bet he doesn't really run it, he's just the face. I bet that there are people propping him up, doing the serious work of management, administration and production, all those real business matters. He's just the face. I bet Daddy set him up in this so that he can have a sense of purpose, so he can have a fulfilling job. I bet Daddy has real business people surrounding his son. His son just looks like he's running the place." 

Those are pretty nasty thoughts for someone who works in the world of disabilities and special needs. Go ahead. Spit on me. It gets worse. I've had similar thoughts sometimes about the clips of a kid with autism scoring the winning points in a game or a guy in a wheelchair being pushed across the finish line by his brother. I love these videos and share them with others, but the Yeahbut kicks in more often than I want to admit.

Today God did not leave me in the Yeahbuts. He took me further. He let me see something rich about Himself.

Isn't this what my Abba does for me? I have a certain composition that He gave me. To many, including myself, the most obvious parts are weakness. He gave me this set of physical, emotional, intellectual DNA and has seen what I can and cannot do. He has "set me up in business" and provided all sorts of supports around me to prop me up in my weakness, to enable me to feel a sense of purpose, a reason to get up in the morning, an opportunity to demonstrate love.  I look at at the good parts of my life and occasionally think, "This is great. I'm doing XYZ," when actually I'm just seeing the token surface of a huge team of truly skilled people who bring their strengths to do what I only dream I am doing. 

Like the young man in the video I watched more than once this week, I'll tell you that I'm getting to live my dream. Yes, that's true, but it is at great cost to my Father that I get to live that dream. He props me up with a variety of needed supports and delights to watch me thrive. 

Maybe He is the Yeahbut God.

In the Name of the Father

It is a moment I want to wrap up securely and tuck into a safe niche in my heart where it will not be forgotten or lost, though right now it's hard to imagine it ever fading. 

My young friend has many times shown a unique sensitivity to spiritual things. On the swing with Miss Linda, he would name classmates and teachers who were missing that day so that together they could pray for those friends. A couple of years ago we began our practice of leaving the classroom and going into the Worship Center for the music portion of the service, then returning to our own room. On more than one occasion, he would look up, around and above us, then turn and ask, "Holy Spirit?" He seemed to sense something very special when he entered that big space and sought confirmation of its source. 

We have seen many baptisms at the beginning of these services. Often when the traditional words were spoken just before a candidate was tipped back into the water, my friend would echo the words of the pastor then snuggle into the adult who accompanied him. The tenderness was palpable. Knowing that his responsiveness to God was growing, several months ago we visited the baptistry to learn more. Many Sunday evenings he would ask to go there and see if anyone was being baptized at the beginning of that service. We would hide in the wings and work on whispering as he asked his questions each week. There was a conscious effort on my part to increase his understanding but not lead him into anything. God was doing His own work in this fellow's life and did not need my help. I thought my heart would burst, though, when he announced, not asked, "I be baptized. Me!"

For several weeks following, different adults approached him with their questions, wanting to hear the standard responses of one seeking baptism. He never came through that way. You see, there is nothing standard about my friend. Every cell of him is unique. His obsessions, his energy, his need to have control are all parts of the package that sparkles and flashes in our Special Needs class. He is not strong on the social graces and traditional cliches that his contemporaries possess. Good or bad, he says it like it is and he's not one to give you the answer you want. He will speak what he really feels and believes. Music, however, connects with him in a very powerful way and the lyrics of Mandisa's Not Guilty became his tearful profession of faith. I know you, I love you, I gave my life to save you.  

Church leadership was sensitive enough to accept the interpretation of this young man's faith by those close to him and agreed to his baptism. Though there are dozens of pastors who regularly baptize in our mega church, our tender-hearted senior pastor entered the water this Sunday and told this story of faith. The obsessions were tabled, the attention was focused, and the will was quietly submitted as this young disciple was lowered into the water. "I baptize you, my brother, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. We are buried with Jesus in likeness of His death and raised to walk in a brand new life."