Loving Rebecca

Loving Rebecca

This I command you, that you love one another. John 15:17
The look is hard to describe.  It’s such a combination of expressions I’ve seen before, in movies or on the faces of people in the street.  At times you’d think she was trying to discern whether you were telling the truth, or looking hard to recognize something she’d seen before, like an eyewitness identifying the culprit from a line of suspects.  Her eyes narrowed as if suspicious, but the tinge of pain and hurt in them made it more likely that she was meeting a long lost father, perhaps one who’d abandoned her, and she was left searching for words to confront and express.  The frown on her face and the squinting of her eyes expressed deep, harbored bitterness, the kind I’m scared of, that boils and stews, steeps and threatens to, at any moment, erupt in a flurry of hatred.  But perhaps all that is assigning too much to a face.  I don’t know.  I’m trying to understand Rebecca. 
I met Rebecca during my first year as a campus missionary.  Living on donations and Top Ramen, Goodwill became my department store of choice, and I made an inward commitment to God and myself, to love the unlovable and to demonstrate the “one another” imperatives I’d studied in Scripture.  I met Rebecca that Fall. 
I did what any normal human who is decent and has some trace of compassion would do.  Rebecca was slumped over next to the pay phone in the hallway outside the dining hall, sobbing uncontrollably.  Her awkwardly thick, stick straight, pageboy cut hair hung over her eyes, and her oversized Starter jacket sat in a poofy pouch over her body.  Below her ankle-tapered jeans were thick, faded, navy blue socks and brown summer sandals.  Her backpack sat beside her.  I stopped to ask what was wrong.  As I squatted next to her chair, she looked up and gave me that look.  A moment later, her arms were thrown around me and her head fell on my shoulder, nuzzling her wet face and running nose into my neck, clinging to me as if through fear.  She stayed there a long time.  I remember feeling awkward, and when it seemed the natural time to by minute degrees pull away, her grip held tight and the loud sobs remained.  Looking back, three years later, I don’t even remember what caused her tears.  But it began our relationship. 
As was my normal custom, after she finished crying I offered to meet with her sometime, to talk, pray, offer some counsel.  She said she didn’t have a job but also didn’t drive, so she could only meet me somewhere within walking distance of the apartment she and her mom shared.  Though I scheduled all my other meetings at Roni Jo’s, a quaint little coffee shop downtown that specialized in exotic blended coffee drinks, the only available coffee shop within walking distance of Rebecca was an unmarked building with a neon espresso sign lit in the window.  That would work.  I walked away, questioning for the first time why I always met the girls I counseled in coffee shops. 
“Hey Jess!  You’re looking lovely as usual today.”  Nine a.m., the owner of Roni Jo’s looked up from banging the espresso scooper, and greeted me as the bell above the door announced my entrance.  I beamed. 
“Morning John!  I’ll have my usual.”
“Twelve ounce blended number nine mocha frio in a sixteen ounce cup.”  He recites the order to Robin, who has cut and dyed her hair again.  I compliment to show I notice.
“Jess!” Kelly jumps up from her seat in the front corner and hurries over to hug me.  I marvel to myself how cute she is and I think she’s been doing Tae Bo and I notice she’s only drinking water.  Those must be Seven jeans.  I think she’s a four.  I’m a six.  Maybe I should try Tae Bo.
“How are you?!”  We settle in, picking up where we left off.  “How is the roommate situation?  Oh, and how are you doing with the whole David thing?”  Kelly updates me on how things are with her life’s issues.  The roommate’s boyfriend has stopped sleeping over, which is good, but he still stays until two in the morning and never puts the seat down.  It seems doubtful that David, seated at her table in BIO 101 lab, is a Christian, since he jokes about his weekend shenanigans, so that crosses him off the list of possibilities. 
“Well, at least you know.” 
At ten till ten we pray for each other and thank God.  I feel drained, but taking a moment to pray turns everything right side up again.  I’m ready to go again.  We exchange I love yous, I wave goodbye to John, and in a flash I’m back in my Honda, headed for the neon espresso sign and my first meeting with Rebecca. 
The next day Rebecca’s number showed up on my caller ID.  I answered, unsure of what to expect.  “Hello? . . .  I’m so sorry. . .  yeah, I did go but all that was there was a Laundromat and I didn’t think that was where we meant, and I didn’t see you, I even walked inside . . . no, I did walk inside and I didn’t see you…yeah, I was there exactly at ten, well, maybe a couple minutes late. . .  no, well I saw the espresso sign like we said but I figured a Laundromat couldn’t be where we’d meet.”  I’d disappointed her, and she didn’t pretend like I hadn’t. 

Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Romans 12:10
Several days later, I pulled up outside Amber Rose Apartment #4 and looked around:  heavily dead-bolted front doors, old cars, dreary, peeling brown siding, and dead grass.  I thought of the workout facility and new carpets in my classy apartment complex in Southtown, and slowly knocked on the door.  I waited.  If it had been anyone else, I would have left and gone home, or called her on her cell phone after several minutes of no answer. But this was Rebecca.  She deserved a wait.  Finally, several deadbolts clicked from inside and Rebecca slowly opened the door.  Her hair was soaking wet, as in still dripping, and combed with a fine-toothed comb slick down on both sides.  She stood for a moment and stared at me.  “You still wanna meet?”  She gave me the look, probably half expecting me to change my mind and drive away.  I put on my biggest smile and most enthusiastic voice.
“Of course! How does breakfast sound?” 
“I don’t have any money.”  She replied matter-of-factly, as if obviously implying that that was the end of that plan.  The bitterness oozed from her words.  I knew she was testing me.
“Oh, no worries! My treat.”  I gave her my sweetest smile and offered my hand for her bag.  “How about Shari’s?”

Accept one another.  Romans 15:7
“Two.  Non-smoking, please.” 
We slid into the brown vinyl seats, and sat across from each other.  I wished I hadn’t worn lipstick that day.    Rebecca slumped down into the poof of her jacket and narrowed her eyes into that look, glaring into my soul with almost frightening perseverance.  I figured the “wading into water” technique was the best for getting our conversation heading in the right direction—starting with shallow and working my way deeper.  Unfortunately, the shallow was antagonizing to Rebecca.  My nauseatingly cheery questions about life and family brought responses of resentment, bitterness, and pain.  She was in no mood for small talk. 
“I live with my mom and she’s gone all the time at work and school—she goes to school—and she says I need to keep the house clean and make the meals and I need to find a job because I need money and God wants me to give to the tithe but I don’t have any money to give to the tithe and I can’t work because I don’t drive and I can’t drive and so I can only walk and my discipler says I just need to trust God but I can’t f—-ing trust God in the middle of this G—d— mess!” Out of breath, she raised her hands above her head, signaling her complete and utter hopelessness then let her elbows fall heavily onto the table dropping her chin heavily onto her palm, pushing up her bottom lip to an exaggerated frown, turning towards the window and narrowing her eyes at the traffic outside.  Her voice had risen to an embarrassing level and I quickly glanced around the restaurant.  The waitress had approached to offer us coffee, but veered to the right as she overheard Rebecca’s voice.  

 As the morning stretched on, I saw in Rebecca what a lifetime of physical, sexual, and substance abuse, coupled with mental illness and years dabbling in sexual perversion and witchcraft can do to a child of God.  None of my pat answers worked, and reciting scripture was patronizing. For the first time in all of my discipleship and counseling meetings, I was at a total loss—and my spirit cried out to God.  As I prayed silently in my heart, a flood of love engulfed my heart and I began to cry as I looked at Rebecca, and as my eyes filled with tears, I began to see the woman she could be, the woman God created her to be.  She saw that I was moved, and for once her face seemed to soften. 
 “Rebecca?”
 “Yeah.”
 “I don’t have any answers, but I am committing to being your friend.  If you will let me in, I promise to walk with you and as much as is in my power, to see you become the beautiful woman God created you to be.  I know that I will fail you, disappoint you, and maybe even hurt you because I am a fallible human, but I promise to love you and help you and pray for you, if you will let me.” 
I was terrified of my own words.  Although she didn’t look convinced, and though she still gave me that look, she didn’t say a word, but as I drove her home, she finally said, “So when d’ya’wanna meet next?”  I knew then that she said yes. 
I knew that with Rebecca, no neat little discipleship book would do, and further, God had not called me to fix her, He’d called me to love her.  I hoped that in the meantime I could teach her by example.  Little did I know who would learn the most.

Be kind to one another. Ephesians 4:32
For Christmas, I thought it would be fun to take Rebecca shopping.  I didn’t have much money, but I certainly had more than her, so I took her to Fashion Bug, and told her to pick out anything she wanted.  After looking through the entire store, she concluded that she didn’t need any clothes.  What?  I could take one look at her and tell that she needed clothes, but she insisted that she didn’t need any clothes.  However, as we went back and looked at accessories, she found numerous things that she wanted me to try on—headbands, hats, hairclips with fake hair in bright colors.  As I tried on each thing she gave me, peals of genuine laughter flowed out of her mouth like I had never heard.  She squealed loudly as I made funny faces and put on ridiculous sunglasses and large floppy hats.  Part of me worried about what the salesgirls must have been thinking, but every time I looked at the sheer delight on Rebecca’s face, it didn’t matter.  She finally talked me in to purchasing a little hair clip with long strands of pink hair in them.  I clipped them in, and we drove toward her home, but she insisted that we stop by the church office and show everyone my new hair.  As she took me around and showed all the church staff, she continued her unabashed laughter of delight.  As I dropped her off this time, she stopped for a second before getting out of the car. 
“Thanks.” 

Bear with one another, and forgive each other. Colossians 3:13
Soon came spring and I was in ministry frenzy—along with attending a one-year Bible school, I was leading two Bible study discipleship groups and writing, producing, choreographing, co-directing, and acting in a full-scale theatrical performance to be performed Easter weekend at a local university.  My days were filled from 5am until 10pm and my cell phone rang incessantly.  Through this blur of ministry activities, I missed several of Rebecca’s phone calls, with no return.  One afternoon as I pulled in to the church office, I saw Rebecca sitting on the sidewalk, with her knees pulled tight up against her chest, her poofy Starter jacket pushed up around her face with the hood pulled over head. 
“I’m waiting for a ride home.”  She could hear the sound of my heels as I approached her.
“Hop in—I’ll take you home,” I patted her on the shoulder to get her to look up.  She pulled on her backpack and climbed into the car.  Once I got inside, I pulled my seatbelt over my chest and leaned forward to start the car. “Rebecca, I’m sorry I haven’t returned your. . .” To my horror, she went ballistic.
“Nobody has time for me!! No f—ing people in this whole G— d— f—-ing place have any time for me!!!  You’re too busy doing all your stupid things to call me back!! I hate you!!”  I sat there shocked as the continued hurtling insults and uncontrolled profanity.  After her eruption she swung open the door and shouted that she would walk home, and slammed the door.  The sound of the slamming door echoed in my quiet car.  The emotional exhaustion of my incessant schedule overwhelmed me and I lay my head on the steering wheel, crying.  I was already failing at what I promised her I’d do. 
I let her walk away, knowing the best thing to do was let her calm down. I went into the church office and found my friend and boss, Pastor Mark. He’d seen the whole thing and offered an understanding smile.  “Just keep loving her.  You’re in this for the long haul.  Just keep loving her.”  I knew he was right.
I waited a day to let her calm down, but then called her one evening.  She answered.
“Hey, it’s me.” I held my breath waiting for a response.
“Hey.”  She was quiet and subdued.  Her voice was soft. 
“I just wanted to apologize and ask you to forgive me for not returning your phone call. And I wanted to tell you that I love you and forgive you.”
“You forgive me?” 
“Of course.  I love you and nothing you can do will ever change that.”  Long silence.
“When d’ya’wanna meet again?” 
I knew she’d forgiven me, too. 

Greet one another. 1 Peter 5:14

 It didn’t take long for the Spirit-rush of compassion toward Rebecca to wear off.  The honeymoon was soon over, and I was left with the cold reality that Rebecca was hard to love.  Because I was her only friend, whenever I arrived at an event, she made a bee-line for me.  I was bombarded, in a wonderful sense, with young college women, girls from my Bible studies, friends, etc. and since it was my usual custom to be enthusiastic about greeting everyone, it posed a bit of a problem when there were many people around and Rebecca got lost in the crowd.  Eventually, I found myself, without knowing it, showing preference to the girls who I had a natural liking to–the fun, joyful, non-needy girls who blessed me every time I saw them.  Then there was Rebecca.  Every time I saw Rebecca, she had a sad story, was complaining about every thing that had happened that day, and was usually whining that her feet and back hurt.  It was exhausting.  One day, she pinpointed my sin:
 “Why don’t you greet me like you greet everyone else?”  My face turned white.  I knew that I’d failed her again. 
 “I do!” I insisted, though I knew I didn’t.
 “You get so happy to see everyone else, except for me.”  There was nothing for me to say. She knew it and I knew it. 

Confess you sins to one another. James 5:16
 “Rebecca, I’m sorry.  You are right.” My heart finally softened. There was no use denying what we both knew.  I hugged her, and to my surprise, she hugged me back.  Without saying a word, I knew that she’d forgiven me.  As I looked back on my greeting of people and my interaction with people, it became easy to see the way that with some people I was genuinely excited to see them, and it showed.  With Rebecca, I had begun to dread seeing her, and it showed.  I knew that only God could change my heart—no amount of fake, conjured up enthusiasm could take the place of genuine love and concern.  Rebecca taught me this. 

Admonish one another.  Romans 15:14
 There did come a time, however, after several years of close contact, that God began to give me some freedom with Rebecca.  We sat in my car after spending several hours together, and Rebecca began.  “I think the Spirit wants me to go to Mexico but I think the Spirit also wants me to go to Latvia, and the trip to Latvia is $3,000 and the trip to Mexico is $500 and I can’t afford to do both, and Pete says that I can’t go to Latvia because I’ve never been on a mission trip before, but if God wants me to go then why won’t He make it so I can go and if I go I won’t have money for laundry, and God always tells me to do stuff but never tells me how to do it or He wants me to do stuff that I can’t do because I can’t do it and if I pay to go to Latvia then I can’t pay to the tithe, but I have to pay to the tithe.  I wish God would just figure it out.”  This time, I knew it was time.
 “Rebecca.  I am glad that you can be honest. However, God is just, holy, and perfect.  And, most importantly, He is God.  Whenever we grumble or complain about a person or a circumstance, we are essentially complaining against God because He is sovereignly in control over all of these circumstances.  Anything that God truly calls you to do, He will provide the means for it.  But, we have to acknowledge that grumbling is sin against God.” 
I could tell that she began to get angry, but she didn’t say anything.  She didn’t speak the rest of the drive back to her house, but she called me later that night and asked, “When d’ya’wanna meet again?”  I knew she’d received it. 

After three years of friendship with Rebecca, my husband and I were leaving the state to serve God in California.  I knew this was a significant move—I had been with Rebecca for three years solid, meeting almost weekly.  She was now moved out on her own with a full-time job (living on-site at the adult care center where she worked).  She joined a church within walking distance, and even sang on the worship team for a special service that the church provided for the handicapped.  Outwardly, Rebecca looked the same, but inwardly, she was soft.  As I said goodbye to her after our last Sunday there, I realized that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even seen that look.  I could hardly even remember what it looked like.
A year later, we visited that church one Sunday morning.  After church, a long line of dear friends and fellow brothers and sisters in Christ stood waiting to hug us (we’d been through a difficult year).  As I hugged my friend Selena, I looked up and saw Rebecca, waiting patiently in line, grinning, holding a folder to her chest.  I asked Selena to wait a moment, and this time I made a bee-line to Rebecca.  She beamed.  A moment later, her arms were thrown around me and her head fell on my shoulder, just as at the first, except instead of nuzzling her wet face and running nose into my neck, she laid her head on my shoulder and rested her face against my neck.  I started to cry.
“I have to show you this!”  She finally let go, and still beaming, shoved a piece of paper into my hands.  I began to read.
She’d written her story.  She’d written about her past and how God gave her courage to forgive.  She’d written about me.  She’d written about how the purity of my husband’s and my courtship had inspired her to remain pure.  She wrote about her changed heart.  She wrote how she’d learned to love others.  She was so excited to show me all that she’d learned.  I assured her that I had learned more.

Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. 1 John 4:11