cheerleaders

I was a cheerleader in ninth grade.  There it is.  I said it and now everyone knows.  I am not anti cheerleader, really just anti ME as a cheerleader.  I don't follow team sports, I am not terribly perky and am far from having shampoo commercial perfect hair.  But I was captain of the cheerleaders in ninth grade.  Full disclosure: that was the year that they changed the boundaries for my jr. high and it happened that all the popular, beautiful, athletic, shampoo perfect cheerleader type kids got sucked out to a different school leaving behind the normal kids like me.

Back then sum total of my football knowledge could have fit inside a thimble.  Yes, we regularly cheered D E F E N S E when the ball was going our way.  But I learned the purpose of our job.  We encouraged, we were spirited, we brought levity and we ALWAYS supported and nudged our horrible football team to be their best.  (remember, all the athletes went to the OTHER school.)

I have been thinking about the role of cheerleaders in our lives.  No, not the Dallas Cowboy girls with jump around in "skirts" which normal people would consider a belt.  I mean the people in our lives who encourage, add spirit and ALWAYS support.  When I think of my "cheerleaders" a few specific faces come to mind.

Those faces belong to the rare people in my life who have showed me what selfless friendship is about.  They cheered my successes with total gleeful abandon.  My good fortune was their good fortune independent of what was happening in their own story.  No competition just raw encouragement. They nudged me to stretch and reach for professional milestones even while they were struggling, unappreciated in their own jobs.  They insightfully anticipated what was on my mind and coaxed it out in conversation so they could encourage me to stretch life to all four corners even if their lives were currently stagnant.

I have learned so much from those supportive faces.  You have regularly surprised me by your lack of self protection, your sincere desire to boost me up on your shoulders and resist comparisons and competition.

I appreciate the spirit your selfless cheerleading has left in me.  There is definitely a great need in the world for people who are able to look outside of themselves and whole heartedly cheer other people on.  People who will sincerely shout their support and lend spirited energy to encourage, rally and motivate.  

Clapping and leaping in the air is helpful too.

Grudge free grace.

I am not a good forgiver.  I find it really tempting to hold a grudge against people who have "wronged me".  You know, heinous crimes.  Things like not appreciating me for the help I give, minimizing me to elevate themselves, acting like jerks or crossing the line and jabbing too hard.  Yeah, my scale of "wrongs" is pretty light.  I have had some legitimate hardships but really nothing to complain about and certainly nothing worthy of grudge carrying.  I know better, yet, I carry.

I had the honor of spending 3 hours today with two survivors of child sex trafficking.  Middle aged women, both far along their journey of healing and wholeness yet scarred both physically and mentally in ways that will never fully mend.  They told me stories of unfathomable abuse, of being bought and sold, of evil and brokenness at the hands of relatives and people who should have protected rather than crushed.  THEY know something of actual heinous crimes.  

I was mesmerized by their stories of God's redemption, of his healing and recovery.  It felt natural to follow the thread of their lives and cheer them on.

Then one of them began talking about her pimps, how no one ever talks about how they got to be who they are.  How they were very likely abused as well, how they are repeating trauma done to them.  This woman knew the stories of the men who had sold her and she felt compassion for them.  She talked about how we vilify and convict them and give them no further thought when we should really consider ministering to their pain and consider that God wants to redeem them too.

Wait, what?

I want to hate them.  I want to help the girls they victimize and let the bad guys rot.

Sitting in front of me was a scarred survivor and she, without a grudge, wants to minister to the "bad guys" and invite them to share the grace she has found.

I didn't expect to see God right there in a coffee shop on east Burnside.  I prayed this morning that he would allow me to be his hands and feet today but he decided to use someone else's grudge-free grace to show Him to me.