What exactly is a blessing? I mean, really? Do we say one before we eat or do we ask for one before we eat? Is a blessing something we do or something we receive? Are we presumptuous in wanting to bless someone with something? Because... is it a blessing to *them*? Or is it a confirmation of ourselves and our beliefs/desires? Is "choosing to be a blessing" the Southern Baptist euphemism for piety? Is receiving a blessing the spiritual equivalent of feeling better? What the heck is a blessing?
And why do we use the word so much? Like love. We've lost the meaning of it. Do we really love cookies? Do we love our spouses? Do we love our children? Or do we have this common culture idea of what love is? Of what a blessing is? Have we over-spiritualized and under-understood what a blessing is? Is it something grandiose? Something simple? Could it be something painful? Heavens no, blessings are the things that make you feel better....right?
Last time I checked, the authority on blessings had a strange picture of it. Perhaps the most quoted and most misrepresented speech of all time, Matthew 5 gives super good insight into what a blessing REALLY is. And I think the best explanation of a blessing, as far as I can see, is a change of perspective. And we all need one of those sometimes.
NLT's version says it absolutely best, I think. Matthew 5:3 God blesses those who REALIZE THEIR NEED FOR HIM", emphasis is mine. A change of perspective. From "I do it" to "I need help". "...For the kingdom of heaven is given to them". What is heaven? According to Jesus (not John in his crazy vision, but Jesus), heaven is knowing God. You can't know someone until you've realized you have a void without them. A mother. A sister. A child. A husband. God. Blessings come from realizing you are smaller than you think. The rest of the incredibly familiar speech from Jesus continues in the same vein. Blessings come in a change of perspective. A change from the common culture ideas. Being reminded of your weakness-- and that God is stronger and bigger than your schedule, your desires, your influence, your bank account, your pool, your hair, or the loss of your child.
There are a few things in life I'm incredibly good at: feeling guilty, feeling ashamed, and being stubborn. There are few things in life I really really really suck at: breaking down walls, allowing closeness in relationships, and realizing that I genuinely need other people. Need. Like being critical to existence.
Critical to existence.
Critical.
To Exist.
Blessed are those who realize their need for God, for the kingdom of heaven is given to them.
There have been moments in this shit-filled life that I wonder if God even exists. If he's really there. Somewhere. Up there. Beyond the clouds. Playing an incredibly strategic game of Battleship with our lives. There have been moments in my past "scripture filled wonderland life" that I thought I couldn't exist without him. That I thought life revolved around my Bible. That I thought life revolved around me. Because I felt good about where I was in life. In scripture filled wonderland. In my knowledge of the Bible. In my teenage struggles where I succeeded piously above all others. So I've seen the spectrum of spirituality, much like anybody who has actually sought a relationship with Jesus past the water-dousing of some sort or confirmation classes.
Blessings are given to those who realize they have a critical-to-existence need for God, for they will get to know Him.
The blessedness of Everett's cursed body is far beyond anything I can comprehend. It's been years since I really, actually, "heartfeltly" realized a critical to existence need for my God. My Jesus. It's taken realizing my guilt, my shame, and my stubbornness get me no where. It's taken realizing my son's cursed body will not survive to understand that walls are more than barriers-- they are poison in relationships. Walls don't hinder relationships. They destroy them. It's taken the realization of Everett's short life for me to change my perspective so that relationships can progress. So that REAL relationships can HAPPEN. More than motions. More than vows. More than dinners. More than hugs. More than feeling fulfilled. Barriers must be destroyed. Critical to existence need must be recognized. And you must follow through with changed perspective. And therein lies the blessing. Change of perspective. Changed thoughts. Changed behaviors. Changed lives. That's a blessing. Turning shit into compost.
It is absolutely shitty that Everett will not hug me and call my name endlessly as an almost 2 year old. It is unfathomable to my heart that he will not be the littlest monkey in my jungle. It is sickening to imagine handing him off to a nurse who will never bring him back. It is terrifying and frustrating and painful to pray fervently that he will not struggle to breathe. To hope, essentially, that he doesn't survive delivery so that he will know NO pain. To pray that he will not suffocate. That he will not gasp and gurgle as he lays in my arms. And still, somewhere in the back of my head and front of my heart pray that instead of an eternal change of perspective, God will give us a full on, complete, no more birth defects, absolute miracle and show off in a mighty way through Everett. It is shittier than anything I can possibly imagine.
And yet, there is this ardent peacefulness in already realizing the blessedness of his cursed body. There is this unsettling rest that floods my heart as we speak his name and tell his story. There is muddied cleansing through the tears of longing to have him nurse at my breast. There is a broken wholeness in imagining seeing him for the first time. In holding his hands. In being the only crib he'll ever know.
There is a blessedness of Everett's cursed body that is already eternal. As much as I would love to hold him forever, change his diapers, and put him time out, I will hold these nearly 40 weeks as a, dare I say it?, blessing. For he has changed perspectives. He has shown a critical to existence need for filling the God shaped void that plagues even those of us who say we know him. And we will forever change shit to compost as we plant our garden of life before us.
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