It’s no secret flying is not one of my favorite things.  The turbulence (aka: falling straight out of the sky a little bit at a time), the ear-popping (as if my head didn’t ALREADY HURT), the joy of feeling the plane sway from side to side as the pilot is attempting to land (did you know more than 80% of crashes occur during the first three minutes of takeoff, or the last eight minutes before landing?), and don’t even get me STARTED on the germ factor (did you ALSO know I am 100% likely to get the flu or a sinus infection within 24-48 hours of having ridden on a plane?  True fact.) —these factors all conspire to rank flying just above a root canal and just below housework on my list of things I love to do.

There is, however, one thing that almost redeems flying for me—one tiny perk that, on a good day, can make all the heart-pounding-ear-popping-breath-holding-hand-sanitizing briefly worthwhile:

The sun.

I love-love-LOVE taking off on a gray, dreary, rainy day, knowing that within a single moment I will be miles beyond the gloomy clouds, elevated to that place where there is nothing but sunshine.  All that was oppressive is now below, and all that surrounds me is blue sky, white fluff, and radiant light.  I can lean back.  I can breathe a sigh of relief.  I can relax.  And, if it truly is a good day, you might even see me crack a smile.

In a world where light is often obscured by storm and shadow, it is good to be reminded the sun still exists—and can be found simply by going higher.

I experienced this feeling again, recently—without even having to leave the ground—when God, through a fellow lover of the written word, brought a book to my doorstep that transported me, in a way few other books ever have, above all that was oppressive and overcast and bathed me in glorious, heart-warming light.

But God—being God—didn’t just stop there.  No—he did even one better. For there, in that above-the-clouds-of-my-life space, he shone that bright beam of light directly on me—and what it reflected reminded me of who I really am.

Gregory Boyle—author of Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion (now one of my top five fave books of ALL TIME)—is a Jesuit priest and the founder and executive director of Homeboy Industries.  He has spent the last twenty years of his life living in the heart of “the gang capital of the world” in LA, ministering to those who live there—to ALL who live there.  Because Father Boyle doesn’t just teach unconditional love.  He lives it.

I could go to great lengths trying to sum up this work—a collection of essays woven around his most moving and meaningful stories—but I think this quote perhaps best illuminates both the heart of this man and the over-arching theme of the book:

The wrong idea has taken root in the world.  And the idea is this: there just might be lives out there that matter less than other lives.  The prophet Jeremiah writes: “In this place of which you say it is a waste, there will be heard again the voice of mirth and the voice of gladness … the voices of those who sing.”

Everyone’s voice matters. To that end, we choose to become what child psychiatrist Alice Miller calls “enlightened witnesses”—people who through their kindness, tenderness, and focused, attentive love return folks to themselves.  It is a returning—not a measuring up.

At Homeboy Industries, we seek to tell each person this truth: they are exactly what God had in mind when God made them—and then we watch, from the privileged place, as people inhabit this truth.  Nothing is the same again.  No bullet can pierce this, no prison walls can keep this out.  And death can’t touch it—it is just that huge.

But much stands in the way of this liberating truth.  You need to dismantle shame and disgrace, coaxing out the truth in people who’ve grown comfortable believing its opposite.

If you want to read a stirring depiction of what this looks like—and what unconditional love can do even in the most desperate of circumstances—I urge you to get this book and read it.  NOW.

No, really.  Get on Amazon and order it now.

I have made this comment, and others like it, nearly every day since I began reading and then subsequently finished this book.  I’ve told my small group about it.  I’ve told my women’s group about it.  I’ve told my clients about it.  I’ve facebooked and emailed friends I knew would love it.  I can’t stop talking about this book.

Why?

I’ll tell you why.

I was talking with one of my interns about it in supervision one day, when it all began to crystallize.  Why the stories moved me so deeply.  Why I constantly felt my eyes welling with tears.  Why my heart continually leapt within me, shouting, Yes!  Yes!  YES!!!

We had been talking—prior to me working this book into the conversation, as I am prone to do—about the importance of being authentically US in counseling, because we each bring into the room (and thereby into the relationship) our own unique reflection of Jesus.  And about how this is arguably the most important thing we can do as a counselor—be Jesus with people in such a way that the relationship we form with them gives us the platform to speak “a word of truth in good season” just the way they need to hear it, when they need to hear it.  It’s just that simple.

And it was then it all clicked.  I realized—in that exact moment of holy-spirit-ness—that THIS was what I loved so much about this book.  Sure, there was the empathy in me feeling the stories he shared.  Sure, many of the stories had sad endings that made me ache for the senselessness of the unending stream of loss.  Sure, there was the beauty of his words and the unique way his words revealed the unconditional love of the Father in a mind-blowing way.  But this—THIS was what made me choke back tears and want to jump up out of bed and go read someone the story.  THIS was what caused the flutter of the Holy Spirit within my own when reading one of such exchanges.  THIS was what made me become overwhelmed with emotion and caused my spirit to exclaim a resounding Yes! Yes-Yes-YES!!!  That’s it!  That’s IT!!!  THAT’S what I DO!!!

That’s what I do.

There—in those reverberating, God-echoing moments when, from the context of a relationship forged by time and trial and truth, Boyle would speak a word so clear, so tender, so direct that it pierced through the defenses and cut straight to the heart with the penetrating truth of a love that sets us free—a word that could only be spoken by that person within that relationship at that exact moment in time—there began the ascent out of the clouds that had taken up permanent residence over my spirit and up into the presence of the Son.  And it was there, in his tender kindness, that he gave myself back to me.

In my best, most rare moments—in the moments when I am the least me and the most Jesus—this happens, by the precious grace of God, in my office, at a coffee shop, on the phone, on my front porch—and we are both for a moment ushered in to the presence of God and come away from the encounter with tiny specks of glory left reflected on our faces.

And then I watch, from a privileged place, as people inhabit the truth.

This is what I love about what I do. 

And God was gracious enough to remind me.

At a time when I’ve struggled with feeling burdened.  Overloaded.  Unappreciated. Overlooked.  Unvalued.  Tired.  Tormented. Time-starved.  At a time when I’ve struggled with feeling.

He has helped me to remember. 

To remember—in this season of stormy weather—this resounding YES!  YES!! YES!!! that has arisen in my spirit, reflecting back to me a tiny shimmer of ever increasing glory, which comes from the Lord.

To remember—this is what he made me to do.

This is who he made me to be.

Exactly who God had in mind when God made me.

Nothing is the same again.

This simple collection of thoughts and stories by a humble priest living and loving in the heart of gang territory transported me—at least for a time—above all that has felt like darkness and has ushered me into the revealing light of God’s unique and personal love for me.

And returned me to myself.

In a world where light is often obscured by storm and shadow, it is good to be reminded the Son still exists—and can be found simply by going higher.

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