Bambi Returns

My wife made my day today.  She told me to look out back because she knows that I’m a deer lover. I quietly and quickly came to the window, and to my surprise, it was Bambi, still limping like when we met her three years ago in our front lawn when she was a fawn.  It was like homecoming!  I quickly forgot that she just wiped out all of our flowers for her afternoon snack.  What captured my attention and my affection was how resilient she was. 

After capturing Bambi with a few pictures, I went outside to greet her. 

We locked eyes for a few minutes before she limped away.  In that moment, I wondered what she’d been through since our first meeting. I wondered what happened to her and how she got hurt in the first place.  Maybe she was just born with a limp.  I wondered if she remembered me when we locked eyes.  In that moment, I just felt so “fawn’d” of her.  I love Bambi.

How does God give us His heart for the broken and wounded?  Maybe it’s through our encounters with God as He helps us and heals us when we’re broken and wounded.  Maybe it was all of the misfits and Bambis from childhood and the disconnected people that we see every day.  For me, maybe it was all of the people that I encountered at Pump House Ministries that changed how I see and understand and treat people who have lost almost everything.  Maybe it’s been all of the children whom I’ve met who have survived horrific trauma and have lost their parents.  God has brought me so many young and older teachers who have changed my heart over time. 

I used to make fun of the Bambis when I was broken, insecure, proud, and rude.  I used to find labels for them so that I could categorize them and distance myself with judgment or scorn.  Now, by the transforming love and grace of God, I love all animals and people with everything I have.  And I have an extra-tender place in my heart for those who live life with a limp.

If we’re honest, we all live with a limp.  We have stuff wrong with us.  Some of our limps are more obvious to others.  Some of our limps are more hidden.  We find both healthy and unhealthy ways to cope with our pain and problems.  Sometimes we pay so much attention to what’s wrong with ourselves and with others that we restrict our ability to love and to be present and to be connected with God, others, and even with ourselves.  Instead of reaching out to give and receive comfort and love, we build walls around ourselves to avoid giving anyone another chance to hurt us.  In doing so, we hurt ourselves.

I long for heaven when all of the forgiven limpers can live in community.  As God’s Spirit leads me, I strive to develop safe places where limpers can be free of judgment.  I look for moments to seize when I meet and connect with people who also have limps.  They’re my heroes.  Like grandparents who are raising their grandchildren.  Teachers who make room and make safe learning spaces for limpers to hobble in and learn even though their home-lives are unstable and they can’t focus or process as quickly as the rest of the limpers who are higher functioning.  Some of my favorite heroes are the foster and adoptive parents who have given up their freedoms to make room for broken children who need to discover that Jesus loves them just the way they are.  I love how God uses our surrendered limps to help His other limpers come to Jesus for His help and healing.  I love to watch God set captives free. 

I’m hoping and praying today that my words will inspire some of you to forgive and to show grace to yourself and to those around you instead of judging or building a case for what’s wrong with yourself or with them.  Reach out and make friends with those from whom you may tend to keep your distance.  Invite them into your life and home, eat and play and pray together, and be changed forever.  Learn to love everyone deeply from your heart and to hold nothing back.  How I thank God for all of my limps and for the limpers around me.