nothing here is hidden
We arrived at our hotel in Dallas this past weekend, excited to spend some time in the city and to visit UNT, where Syd would be heading in the fall. As we pulled up to the front, there were a lot of people standing around, every one of them dressed in some form of leather. There was something in the air, I kid you not, that made me take a closer look. This was not a motorcyclist gathering. One man wore a big leather sash that read "Champion 2015." The names on the backs of many of their leather vests gave tribute to their celebration. A grandma-looking woman with gray hair wore a studded dog collar around her neck and was being led by a young man into the lobby.
We went to check-in, sort of speechless as we realized we were surrounded by a large group of S&M-ers. In fact, we were the only ones we could see that were not a part of this group, that had kids. Actually, that's not true. One older heavier woman in a wheelchair who was part of the group was carrying a baby.
At check-in time we were told we would have to wait 30 minutes for our room, that the hotel was booked full. I looked up at the television set scrolling events and saw the conference rooms designated for Leather Fest. I was texting our family in the area and learned that the fest was city-wide, an international gathering. As our kids looked around, I went back up to the desk after a few minutes. "We need our room now," I said. I wasn't going to take no for an answer, and the attendant found a room on the top floor for us that just became available.
In the quietness of our room, we unpacked. I felt really let down, disappointed that we would share our time at the hotel with this group. Just being totally honest. Syd, with phone in hand, asked what S&M was. "Please don't google it," I said. My boys have seen a lot, but not this. Not walking around in the flesh. "These people get sexual pleasure from pretending to be slave and masters. They tie each other up, whip each other..." Steve says. Our boys are still silent, not their usual M.O.
"We don't know their stories," I said. "We don't know where they came from, what their childhoods were like, why this is where they have found acceptance." And there was no denying this was their community, as they fellowshipped and laughed together downstairs. Yet when they encountered us, it was with a sneer, a palpable hatred, and mocking laughter. That's the truth. I am careful these days about what I refer to as evil, and what is man's own flesh and what is spiritually evil. This was about as dark as you could get. It wanted the shades down on any light that existed. It is what is. Sexual perversion is evil.
We left the hotel, opting not to swim or lounge about before meeting family for dinner, and headed to the Galleria. We tried to be lighthearted, but it was hard. It would be easy to say I was shocked, feeling empty. Again, we have all seen a lot, but never perhaps this up close and personal.
The hotel was quiet when returned from dinner, mercifully so. It seemed there were very few other guests on the top floor. We saw another family, with the same blank looks on their faces. In the morning, we sat down to a huge breakfast buffet, surrounded by leather corsets, leather pants, small leather boxes; a few accessories for the day. The woman with the baby was joined by a small man decked out in fake leather. He held the baby and murmured, "You've seen a lot this weekend, haven't you?" It was really all I could do to not attack him and grab that baby. I was so angry I had tears in my eyes. It was really hard at that moment to feel anything for any of them. I did not.
Part of our trip to Dallas was to visit a church we had heard of in Denton, an offshoot of the Village Church in Dallas. That morning as soon as we walked in, I felt comfort, a balm to my soul. I think sometimes you need the very darkest night to reveal the brightest light. We fell in immediately with a leader in the church who connects people. He was interested in us, and really funny. He had Syd and Ben laughing. He asked Syd questions about his major, told him there were other art students in the church. He made us feel really at home.
After we sat down, the tears started to come. I'm not one to weep in church, but many Sundays the tears just come and roll down my face and don't stop. This Sunday I cried out of relief. I cried because I felt Syd had found a home here. Then I cried because Syd had found a home here. Here. In Denton. I told myself to not get too caught up; Syd had not said that.
A missionary from Japan shared some things about the city he lived in. The complete lack of knowledge of Jesus there. If you know of my recent love of snow monkeys and Japan, you know I loved every word of his stories. And as I am one to fantasize, I pictured Syd going on a mission trip to Japan, meeting the love of his life, followed by Japanese grandchildren. The end.
Back to the service, the pastor shared the story about the woman with the alabaster jar who poured her expensive perfume on the feet of Jesus, in Mark 14. His slant on the passage was that we don't feel we have enough to give to Jesus, so we don't give at all. But all he wants is what is given from the heart. It doesn't matter how much.
The worship was sweet, genuine. There was just a sweet spirit in the place. They loved Jesus. We sang one of my favorite worship songs, "Here for You." Honestly, I was so glad to be there I wasn't sure the rest of the trip could even compare. And it really didn't. We walked out to the car and we all agreed it was the best time in church we have had in a year. "So," I said to Syd, "do you think you have found a home?" He was emphatic in his reply and I was grateful. So grateful to Jesus who is always faithful to us.
We spent the rest of the day loving the art exhibits at the Dallas Museum of Art, then had a great meal at Campisi's, followed by shopping and a movie in a shopping center close by. We drove through Highland Park, taking in some of the grandeur of the Big D.
The next morning, many of the leather festers were checking out, and we got on an elevator with four of them. We were packed in tight, one man with a cart full of contraptions. The others even commented on it, and he mentioned he had brought a trailer of his furniture (?). That got some appreciative ahhing and oohing.
The rest of the time flew by, with visits to the 6th floor museum, the Bishop Arts district and a drink by the pool as we watched our boys play around, realizing the days were short that they would be together this much. The hotel was now full of businesspeople in suits going to a conference. We tipped every single employee we could at that hotel. We smiled and said thank you a lot. We wanted to be generous in a place that had held a lot of darkness.
Because we have hope.
We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand—out in the wide open spaces of God’s grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise.
There’s more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we’re hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we’re never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can’t round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!
Romans 4:2-5 (the Message)
We spent our last day walking around UNT, talking to people in the art department and giving Syd some time to walk the ground he will be living on the next four years. I have no doubt he will thrive at this campus. I have no doubt his bright smile, his loud laugh and his great sense of humor will bring to him people who have the same need for light, for love that's true. The road he is following may be narrow, but it brings us out to huge open spaces. Spaces filled with light and love, spaces that prove the sheer determination that comes from walking with Christ.
Jesus said, “I am the Road, also the Truth, also the Life. From John 14:6 (the Message)
Here for You
We went to check-in, sort of speechless as we realized we were surrounded by a large group of S&M-ers. In fact, we were the only ones we could see that were not a part of this group, that had kids. Actually, that's not true. One older heavier woman in a wheelchair who was part of the group was carrying a baby.
At check-in time we were told we would have to wait 30 minutes for our room, that the hotel was booked full. I looked up at the television set scrolling events and saw the conference rooms designated for Leather Fest. I was texting our family in the area and learned that the fest was city-wide, an international gathering. As our kids looked around, I went back up to the desk after a few minutes. "We need our room now," I said. I wasn't going to take no for an answer, and the attendant found a room on the top floor for us that just became available.
In the quietness of our room, we unpacked. I felt really let down, disappointed that we would share our time at the hotel with this group. Just being totally honest. Syd, with phone in hand, asked what S&M was. "Please don't google it," I said. My boys have seen a lot, but not this. Not walking around in the flesh. "These people get sexual pleasure from pretending to be slave and masters. They tie each other up, whip each other..." Steve says. Our boys are still silent, not their usual M.O.
"We don't know their stories," I said. "We don't know where they came from, what their childhoods were like, why this is where they have found acceptance." And there was no denying this was their community, as they fellowshipped and laughed together downstairs. Yet when they encountered us, it was with a sneer, a palpable hatred, and mocking laughter. That's the truth. I am careful these days about what I refer to as evil, and what is man's own flesh and what is spiritually evil. This was about as dark as you could get. It wanted the shades down on any light that existed. It is what is. Sexual perversion is evil.
We left the hotel, opting not to swim or lounge about before meeting family for dinner, and headed to the Galleria. We tried to be lighthearted, but it was hard. It would be easy to say I was shocked, feeling empty. Again, we have all seen a lot, but never perhaps this up close and personal.
The hotel was quiet when returned from dinner, mercifully so. It seemed there were very few other guests on the top floor. We saw another family, with the same blank looks on their faces. In the morning, we sat down to a huge breakfast buffet, surrounded by leather corsets, leather pants, small leather boxes; a few accessories for the day. The woman with the baby was joined by a small man decked out in fake leather. He held the baby and murmured, "You've seen a lot this weekend, haven't you?" It was really all I could do to not attack him and grab that baby. I was so angry I had tears in my eyes. It was really hard at that moment to feel anything for any of them. I did not.
Part of our trip to Dallas was to visit a church we had heard of in Denton, an offshoot of the Village Church in Dallas. That morning as soon as we walked in, I felt comfort, a balm to my soul. I think sometimes you need the very darkest night to reveal the brightest light. We fell in immediately with a leader in the church who connects people. He was interested in us, and really funny. He had Syd and Ben laughing. He asked Syd questions about his major, told him there were other art students in the church. He made us feel really at home.
After we sat down, the tears started to come. I'm not one to weep in church, but many Sundays the tears just come and roll down my face and don't stop. This Sunday I cried out of relief. I cried because I felt Syd had found a home here. Then I cried because Syd had found a home here. Here. In Denton. I told myself to not get too caught up; Syd had not said that.
A missionary from Japan shared some things about the city he lived in. The complete lack of knowledge of Jesus there. If you know of my recent love of snow monkeys and Japan, you know I loved every word of his stories. And as I am one to fantasize, I pictured Syd going on a mission trip to Japan, meeting the love of his life, followed by Japanese grandchildren. The end.
Back to the service, the pastor shared the story about the woman with the alabaster jar who poured her expensive perfume on the feet of Jesus, in Mark 14. His slant on the passage was that we don't feel we have enough to give to Jesus, so we don't give at all. But all he wants is what is given from the heart. It doesn't matter how much.
The worship was sweet, genuine. There was just a sweet spirit in the place. They loved Jesus. We sang one of my favorite worship songs, "Here for You." Honestly, I was so glad to be there I wasn't sure the rest of the trip could even compare. And it really didn't. We walked out to the car and we all agreed it was the best time in church we have had in a year. "So," I said to Syd, "do you think you have found a home?" He was emphatic in his reply and I was grateful. So grateful to Jesus who is always faithful to us.
We spent the rest of the day loving the art exhibits at the Dallas Museum of Art, then had a great meal at Campisi's, followed by shopping and a movie in a shopping center close by. We drove through Highland Park, taking in some of the grandeur of the Big D.
The next morning, many of the leather festers were checking out, and we got on an elevator with four of them. We were packed in tight, one man with a cart full of contraptions. The others even commented on it, and he mentioned he had brought a trailer of his furniture (?). That got some appreciative ahhing and oohing.
The rest of the time flew by, with visits to the 6th floor museum, the Bishop Arts district and a drink by the pool as we watched our boys play around, realizing the days were short that they would be together this much. The hotel was now full of businesspeople in suits going to a conference. We tipped every single employee we could at that hotel. We smiled and said thank you a lot. We wanted to be generous in a place that had held a lot of darkness.
Because we have hope.
We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand—out in the wide open spaces of God’s grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise.
There’s more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we’re hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we’re never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can’t round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!
Romans 4:2-5 (the Message)
We spent our last day walking around UNT, talking to people in the art department and giving Syd some time to walk the ground he will be living on the next four years. I have no doubt he will thrive at this campus. I have no doubt his bright smile, his loud laugh and his great sense of humor will bring to him people who have the same need for light, for love that's true. The road he is following may be narrow, but it brings us out to huge open spaces. Spaces filled with light and love, spaces that prove the sheer determination that comes from walking with Christ.
Jesus said, “I am the Road, also the Truth, also the Life. From John 14:6 (the Message)
Here for You