at one point in the past few weeks, an email came into my figurative hands from a girl studying theology. it was not addressed to me, but was forwarded to me despite my not knowing the sender because of its particular relevance to a certain tendency i sometimes have toward self-injury as a response to emotional stress.
it contained, among other things, a quotation from isaiah.
"Isaiah 53:3
The punishment that brought our peace was him; and by his wounds we are healed.
(WEB)
Upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are
healed. (NRSV)
The chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.
(ASV)
By his stripes, my stripes are healed.
[...]
last night this line floored me. I was silent before it for about 20 minutes
before I could take another breath. Funny how those words hit you sometimes...
like they're alive and changing. Sometimes you blow past them; sometimes they
blow you away. [...]"
she was right about the words. upon reading this email i was glad that she had found something in them, but as for my part, i blew right past them.
yesterday i went to mainz with a group of friends, of whom i was the only non-christian and the only american. (i met them by hanging out at campus für christus because the first real friend i made in germany was a girl whose life completely revolves around this group, and they never tried to convert me, and gave me free food to boot.) we went to the house of some americans there to work for a similar organization and they had invited some other americans too, including three girls from the same city as the girl who sent the email, although they didn't know her. the first girl told me about her struggle with identity issues, depression, and the other typical college student stuff, and how that led her to her current expression of christianity. the second grilled me fairly intensely about my personal beliefs (but in a respectful, intellectual way that i totally enjoyed and appreciated). i ended up discussing minimalist photography of decaying apparata of industry with the third.
the second conversation took up the majority of the time i was there, and i was overall very pleased at how challenging it was, and how well i was able to answer her challenges to my own (if not to her) satisfaction.
in the middle of this conversation, she pulled out her pocket bible and flipped to...
isaiah 53:3
"woah." i thought, and then proceeded to give a complex explanation, that suffering for one's ideals is holy, and a description of the purpose i believe is served by the promise of a messiah yet to come, illustrated by the "moshiach is coming tonight" story. the girl didn't seem to find that very satisfactory, and i found it only partially so, but we got off onto other abstract issues of theology and it was left at that.
later that night, i was laying in bed trying to sleep. i was kept awake by the feeling of being crushed by certain past hurts, and the horrible thought that i had probably perpetrated similar acts of selfish neglect of those who had been close to me. i felt alone. i felt desperate. it was dangerous, and i began mentally groping for something to hold onto. i thought of the passage whose words i had blown past twice in the past few weeks.
and i thought of something i said to shaun a few months ago. that i don't believe God had to come to earth as jesus to experience suffering, because i believe that God comes to earth as every person and experiences all of our suffering.
and it clicked. that is what i think "by his stripes, we are healed." means.
the theology major had said, "by his stripes, my stripes are healed." but for me, by my own stripes, i am healed. because God is not a distant nebula or a man who died two thousand years ago. God is a part of me, animating me, experiencing
my pain with
me, in real time. how could i even consider hurting this body, when God is inhabiting it with me, and already suffering so much (exactly as much as i do, and more) on my account?
suddenly i wasn't alone anymore. i felt safe. i felt held. still lost, still hurt. but hopeful. healing. better.
as i was leaving the gathering in mainz, the first girl i had talked to came up to me to say goodbye. she also said, "there is... more." i asked if she had read any annie dillard even though i really didn't expect her to know what i was talking about. she said she had.
"there is, God help us, more."