I noticed her when I entered the multipurpose room where she was talking with a couple of ladies. New dark blue jeans, a comfortable cotton top, no make-up, shawl on her shoulders, long wavy brunette with strands of gray hair pulled half-way up in a net, her carriage, thin and graceful. She was an attractive woman but edgy. Her clothing made me think of a hippy from back in the day, an artist type. There was something about her dress and the way she carried herself that had a bit of mystique. I would come to find out she was living out of her car. The women were introducing themselves. She smiled and thanked them for inviting her to the lunch. The other ladies were in church clothes, most in dresses. The room’s decorations were elegant. Each circular table had a china setting and flowers. Tea pots were part of the decor. It was an elegant Tea for the women and daughters who had gathered for the occasion. A friend had invited me to speak for the event but this was my first visit to the church.

My daughter, mother, and me at the event a few years ago.

Soon it was time to be seated. The woman in jeans sat at the same table as myself, my mother and daughter next to me, the friend who had invited me plus another friend I had known since high school and a couple others. We introduced ourselves around the table. We found out this woman had wandered in the day before while the women were decorating. They had invited her to the Tea. It was a lakeside town and the homeless were common. She was clean and neat . . . and knowledgeable.

During lunch, she and I talked philosophy and personal history. She was well educated, and I was impressed. Some of what she said seemed like make-believe, like the stuff of new age thinking, all about natural forces and unusual occurrences, environmentalist topics and nature-lovers language. Like often happens with me, I was concerned about the conversation, what the other ladies might interject that might inhibit the safety of our dialogue, knowing how Christians have in-house expressions and opinions that might exclude or be insensitive to the visitor or make her feel uncomfortable.

I shouldn’t have worried. These women were not that way. I found myself wondering how I could relate to the homeless woman, and was hoping something would click. She seemed lacking in religious awareness and church background but was curious about mine. I shared some of my story and a bit about what I do, which at the time was teaching as a reading specialist. The flow wasn’t all that comfortable but we managed to make small talk. I wondered what we had in common, and I was curious. The conversation eased into a good discussion.

Then it was getting close to time for me to speak. My thoughts turned to my upcoming topic, one the group had chosen for me. I said a silent prayer, asking God to help me to connect with the women at a heart level. I was a little nervous because they were a conservative group and more cliché than myself. I was less so in that I read beyond the Evangelical scope. I was hoping they would be okay with my talk’s conclusion, a St. Julian of Norwich quote from her book, Revelations of Divine Love. As I prayed and calmed myself, I glanced at the visitor and my attention fixated when the Lord nudged me. “She’s the reason why you are here.” the thought was strong and measured. Startled, I prayed back, “Lord, help me to say what she needs to hear.” And then it was my turn to speak.

The theme for my talk was contentment. Are very many people content? I think it is rare to be content, even in Christian circles. There is a great verse that speaks to this and why contentment should be desired.

Godliness with contentment is great gain.

That ‘with contentment’ is remarkable. I talked about God and what He is to us. How it is important to understand that God is real, and He never ever abandons His children. I spoke to this and how it plays out in my own life; how it is a reoccurring theme throughout the Bible. Then I dove in deeper and said that if we want God as part of our reality we will have to stop playing games with Him, we have to stop pretending and acting the part. REAL LIFE begins when we surrender our wants, our hurts, our jealousies, our plans to God. I continued on, “This is the start of a refining process, of God’s intervention in our lives, and ultimately, the beginning of an intimate relationship with God.”

Contentment and what makes us content came next. We are content when our needs are satisfied and our desires are satisfied. This theme is in the Bible stories. How did Martha feel? Do you ever feel like Martha? How did Mary, her sister, feel? Mary chose the better thing, listening to Jesus, learning of Jesus. Mary was intentional and it made all the difference. Yet, when Jesus failed to come and her brother died, she had felt Jesus had failed them. She felt betrayed during their time of great need.  Then Jesus says to her, “I am the resurrection and the life, He who believes in Me will live.” He asks her, “Do you believe this?” Jesus weeps with those who are sorrowing. When they arrive at Lazarus’ tomb, Jesus does a miracle of death to life proportions by raising her brother from the dead.

We will know contentment when we are satisfied in the Lord.

When God is our satisfaction, we will draw close in relationship with Him, and we will be moved in our spirits to soft tender love for those who are hurting. We will find want we want in God. Mary is an example of this,. . . with an extravagant bottle of perfume, she pours it on Jesus’ feet and then dries his feet with her hair. In her story we see adoration and worship and utter devotion to Jesus, given freely, openly, and without embarrassment or restraint. Those who are deeply satisfied with God will find His presence becomes part of them . . .even during times of great suffering, He anchors us and gives us peace during the storm as it rages all around us and refuses to dissipate. We can have contentment even in this because our gaze is focused on Christ.

Next I passed a basket of colorful polished stones around the room and asked the women to pick one that would represent them. As each woman held a stone in her open palm, I read to them St. Julian of Norwich’s words, which she heard in her understanding while looking at a hazelnut in her hand.

In this little thing I saw three properties. The first is that God made it; the second, that God loveth it; the third, that God keepeth it. And what beheld I in this? Truly, the Maker; the Lover and the Keeper. And until I am substantially oned to Him, I can never have full rest nor true bliss; that is to say, until I am so fastened to Him that there is no created thing at all between my God and me.

I extrapolated from her words a message for the women; that God has made each one of us, and He loves us so very much. That God can heal every heartache and comfort every sorrow. And how He cares for us ever so tenderly. Then a lovely woman (in last week’s post) stepped up to the podium, spoke her sorrowful story, and told the women how God loves us even when others may not. How He is enough to meet our inner need. She quoted John  3:16, and then prayed before we were dismissed.

The homeless woman didn’t rush off, instead she came over to where women were thanking me. She came near. “I liked what you said,” she said, “Did you write it down?” I affirmed that I had. Then she asked if I could email her a copy, and she gave me her email address. We exchanged a few more pleasantries and I let her know that God loves her. Then it was time for us to leave. I gave her a hug and promised to send the email as soon as I returned to my home, which would be a few hours later.

On the drive back home, I marveled at the whole thing. The event was my first time speaking in front of a group other than my own church ladies. I’d been nervous and anxious, but also thrilled and pleased. It was one of those dreams coming true. In the end, it was God who had spoken. My mind replayed the conversation I had with the visitor. There had been some sort of connection, energy, between us. I knew she had a contemplative bent like myself. I prayed she’d come to Jesus. That night I emailed her a copy of my talk, but it came back “failure to deliver.” Then I wished I had given her my copy (it had lots of little notes and I had thought it too messy).

Isn’t God good? What a blessing to be a part of His work.

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