Monday, August 16, 2010

Known and Loved

We saw a video at church this weekend which left a deep impression on me. My friend Tony preached a message about sharing your story – The Story. You know, the one about Jesus? The greatest Story ever told? That Story wasn’t meant to end with you or with me. It’s a Story that’s meant to be shared and passed from person to person, friend to friend, parent to child, generation to generation. Tony asked the question: where are you with The Story? Are you still sitting on the sidelines, listening to someone else narrate it? Or are you actually IN The Story?

Tony made the point that sometimes, you don’t even have to use words to tell The Story. St. Francis said it best: “Preach the gospel at all times; when necessary, use words.” Dear Lord, help me to be a better preacher!

"So take me as you find me, all my fears and failures. Fill my life again. I give my life to follow everything I believe in. Now I surrender." (Mighty to Save by Hillsong)

Here’s the video that stuck with me, and the transcript of it is below.

I am a woman. Of no distinction. Of little importance. I am a woman of no reputation, save that which is bad. You whisper as I pass by and cast judgmental glances though you don’t really take the time to look at me, or, even get to know me, for to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known and, otherwise, what’s the point of doing either one of them in the first place? I want to be known. I want someone to look at my face and not just see two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and two ears but to see all that I am and could be. All my hopes, loves, and fears but that’s too much to hope for, to wish for, or pray for so I don’t. Not anymore. Now I keep to myself, and by that I mean the pain that keeps me in my own private jail. The pain that has brought me here, at midday, to this well.

To ask for a drink is no big request, but to ask it of me, a woman unclean, ashamed, used and abused, an outcast, a failure, a disappointment, a sinner. No drink passing from these hands to your lips could ever be refreshing, only condemning, as I’m sure you condemn me now, but you don’t.

You’re a man of no distinction, though of the utmost importance. A man with little reputation, at least so far. You whisper and tell me to my face what all those glances have been about, and you take the time to really look at me but don’t need to get to know me for to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known, and you know me. You actually know me. All of me and everything about me. Every thought inside and hair on top of my head. Every hurt stored up, every hope, every dread from my past and my future, all I am and can be you tell me everything. You tell me about me.

And that which is spoken by another would bring hate and condemnation. Coming from you it brings love, grace, mercy, hope, and salvation. I’ve heard of one to come who would save a wretch like me, and here in my presence you say, “I am he.”

To be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known.

And I just met you, but I love you. I don’t know you, but I want to get to. Let me run back to town; this is way too much for just me. There are others–brothers, sisters, lovers, haters, the good and the bad, sinners and saints who should hear what you have told me, who should see what you have shown me, who should taste what you gave me, who should feel how you forgave me.

For to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known.

And they all need this too. We all do. We need it for our own.

Thanks to MandiKaye at Free to Be Me for transcribing the text to this video.

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