It’s the Kingdom Breaking In

I think I see the Kingdom more when we allow others to enter the mess of our lives and others allow us to enter the messiness of their brokenness than anything else. There is a power when you let someone see your tears and your anger. When you say, “I am not okay,” and they tell you it is alright, that you don’t have to be okay.

I pray you have those people who let you not be okay all the time. You need those people. You need people who work to end injustices, yes, I won’t argue with that. We need people who fight hunger and poverty. Jesus, after all, healed people and brought people back from the dead. Sometimes life-giving moments happen simply when we grieve together.

Tuesday night I had planned to do some much-needed deep cleaning of the apartment and some laundry left from break. However, I never wrote it in my planner so it was never set in stone. So when I received the text that simply said: “Costco ice cream run?” I replied, “What time?”

It could have been a cry for help or just wanting to spend time together; it was never specified–it didn’t need to be. It is when we share our lives over ice cream hand-dipped in chocolate and covered in chopped almonds that healing happens, that joy is found. She ordered pizza, but we ate the ice cream first, and I think if Jesus had a Costco, he would have done the same. Because with Jesus, it was sometimes all about celebrating the Kingdom crashing into our dirt and brokenness. That’s why Jesus told stories of lost coins and sheep that were found and his point wasn’t saving lost people so much as it was celebrating.

For me, I’ve seen the Kingdom come when someone invites you into her home without having vacuumed the rugs and knows there will be no judgment. Maybe I’m overemphasizing the ordinary too much, but I know this: Tuesday afternoon I was feeling the weight and stress of the end of the semester and once I walked into the warehouse discount store, weights were lifted.

Sometimes I think the Kingdom looks like eating chocolate and blowing up enough balloons to pull a Patch Adams. Other times it just looks like watching Tangled with a three-year-old. All the same, there’s healing in there somewhere.

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