lessons from an unintended source

Today I got an email in from my friend who recently got a new puppy. I sent an email nicely asking (aka demanding!) to see cute pictures asap. The dog is so darned cute!!!

In his response about how the weekend with the new puppy was, he said "Actually we started crate training him so we did go out for a little bit on Sunday... just to help him realize that when we leave, we are coming back."

And he was really talking about the dog. There was no deeper lesson intended. But, for me, that one sentence cut right through to my very core.

"We left to help him realize that when we leave, we are coming back."

For years, my biggest fear was that someone would 'leave' me. It wasn't entirely an irrational fear, because many people did leave me or abandon me in my times of needs, or in friendships altogether, and so whenever I saw a situation arising where someone was leaving or I was leaving, I would immediately push them away. It was easier to run and push them away early on so it would hurt less later. (For anyone reading this who does this, just remember one thing: it is not easier later on if you push them away.)

And this same friend who now has the dog, oh, I can remember conversations about this topic.
In fact, I wouldn't be the person I am today without these conversations. One of them in particular, I remember, occurred at work. I was in my cubicle, very very upset with a couple of things. People weren't respecting me, I felt God had started a plan for my life and then left in the middle of it, and here I was crying and telling my new friend these things. And at one point I said "it's OK. you can leave now. I understand."

My poor, bewildered friend. He said 'what do you mean? why would I leave?' Well, because honestly, for all of my formative years I was told I was 'too much to handle' and so if I was too much, people were going to give up or let go. So I figured he would realize one day that I was too much, and I expected each day to be that day. When I told him that, you know what he did?

He didn't leave.

He didn't run.

He sat down in the chair opposite of me. And waited...

I asked what was going on. And he said "I will sit here for as long as it takes for you to understand that I will never, ever leave you. Friends don't do that to each other, and a few tears aren't going to force me out."

I tell you, friends, that Jesus was alive and real in him. I've never felt love or acceptance or friendship to that degree.

And now I am stronger, and I no longer expect or wait for people to leave. I've learned to see love in its purest form again, thanks to friends like this and my roommates from Calvin. God has led me through a painful yet beautiful healing process.

So today I thought about the idea of leaving for a short while just to let someone know you will come back. You might leave, but you will always return.

What does that look like in our spiritual lives? Is it possible that God sometimes 'leaves' to show us that he will always come back? Is that essentially what he did when Jesus was on the cross?

I think now that leaving looks a lot less scary, and a lot more like an opportunity to see the return.