When I think of Gus, it is profoundly bittersweet. To know that 3 years before I did, I could've spent more time with him, I could've marveled at the wonders of God with him, I could have dissected different strands of theology with him. I would have laughed so much with him. I would have been unable to hide behind my words and writings with him. I would have realized my love for him. But then again, when I think of those 3 years between, I also recall the incredible brokenness and loss of self that consumed me. I was running from healing, from grace, from forgiveness. I was hiding from God and abandoning holiness because I no longer felt deserving of it. When I think about those 3 years between meeting Gus and finally responding to his gracious, patient pursuit - it feels like wasted time. It feels like I failed. When I think about it too much or too long, I still feel anger in my chest and I still have to fight back tears. To know I had lost myself, and I had lost out on the blessing that is Gus for all that wasted time. I had missed what God was trying to do, and I had chosen my own path. To face that reality is so painful, but even so, God remains so incredibly faithful and His mercy remains to be so much more.
Maybe I knew God was saying "Wait." Maybe I knew He told me to trust Him to heal and to gently care for my deepest shame and most gruesome wounds. But, maybe I was stubborn and chose my own understanding. Maybe I grasped for a hollow substitute of God's plan because I felt swallowed up whole, like I was spiraling down further into darkness, like I was suffocating and drowning. Maybe I chose myself over my savior. The realization of this sin drove me to internal shame and anger. "Why God?! Why did I believe the deceiver for so long? Why did I run from you when I should have fallen at your feet? Why did I choose to go down a path of brokenness, and why did I hurt so many people in the process? Why could I not see you for who you are? Why could I not see me as your beloved daughter who could receive forgiveness and grace because of who YOU are, and not because of who I had been? And God WHY could I not see Gus standing there the whole time?" And from all this anger and frustration, a simple, beautiful, defining response: "Time is NEVER wasted, and MY timing is ALWAYS perfect."
Time is never wasted, and His timing is always perfect. I know, in my old self, my faith was still swallowed up in legalism. My doing defined my being. God was a disappointed deity that I could never even aspire to please, so why even try? With my old self, my heart was not prepared to receive a love like the kind Harland Augustus so graciously lives by. That old girl was lost in her brokenness and defined by her scars, the glory of God was beyond her sight. In that "wasted time," I began learning so much about myself and, more importantly, about the love of God. I sat with the Redeemer a lot in that wasted time: not doing, not going. Just simply sitting with Him. He turned over every last stone, He searched every last piece of my soul. He poked and prodded and pruned away. He spoke so gently to the depths of my being while the Spirit was hard at work. I learned to see my sin in all its ugliness, and I saw the ways it sent damaging ripples not just through me, but through the body of Christ that surrounded me. I found my way back to a loving Savior I had never known in this way before, a God that takes delight in me simply because I am His. A God that breaks us from sin's grip to walk in a freedom that is so such sweeter than the false and fleeing satisfaction sin brings. A God that can take our most broken pieces and speak life back into what was dead, crush what has been hardened, allow new growth to bloom, and redeem what was once stolen.
Meeting this God was hard. A plant must be pruned to get new growth. An olive must be pressed to get its oil. And I genuinely believe God walked me through a grueling season so he could prepare my steps to meet Him once again in that "lost time." My heart and motives were investigated and brought into the light, and from this painful season, a new and beautiful one emerged. In meeting this God, in surrendering to Him, in trusting Him to walk through that spiritual fire, I found such a profound peace. I finally trusted Him with all my life, with my calling, with my spouse should He so choose to find me one. I finally chose to lean not on my own understanding or make things happen in my own power. Because I know He is good. I know He knows my desires and the longings of my heart. I know who He has for me is good. Even if He doesn't provide a husband, He would still be good, and it would still be for my good. I have learned I don't want anything less than His will, and His presence is sweeter than anything else this world can give.
I remember the day. I was sitting on my front porch, Bible in hand, talking to God about His plans for me. I was so thankful for this new season, with a new job, in a new house. I found a church in Birmingham I loved, and I was starting to volunteer in the youth group. It felt like pieces were falling into place. I knew God's faithfulness was on full display. I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be in that moment. But I also wondered if I would ever meet a man who sincerely loved the church, who truly meditated on God's Word, who understood this calling and who understood the weight of what it means to call oneself "Christian." LITERALLY in the middle of this thought, my phone pinged, which was odd because I could have sworn I put it on silent to enjoy the sunny September afternoon without distractions. A facebook message from Gus Malcom. My heart unexpectedly leapt with joy and there was a gentle whisper, "this is that man." "Whoa WHAT?!" That's weird. Nah. I'm being weird. I barely know this dude. No way. But I exchange messages with him, getting more giddy with each passing one. I recall the night in college where we talked about ministry and Jesus and our favorite theologians and the best passages of scripture. We talked about the beauty and wonder of the Almighty while sitting under a blanket of crystal clear stars made by that very same Creator we spoke of so much that night, at the edge of the fireside's glow. I remember thinking that this moment was a glimpse of paradise: baffled by the beauty of creation, amazed and the size and grandeur of the greatest story ever told, humbled we play a small part in it, and happy to share that experience with another believer - a stranger who ended up being a kindred spirit. Snapped back to the present, he messages me and asks for my phone number, maybe we could talk sometime? I immediately call my sister to tell her I think I just gave my husband my number.