This is being shared with permission from one of our Community Care members:
Psalm 3:3-4 (NIV) says,
"But you, Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, and the One who lifts my head. I cried aloud to the Lord, and he answered me from his holy mountain."
It has been a difficult year.
The picture-perfect life I thought I had, the one I had dreamed of, worked relentlessly for, made decisions so to nurture for fifteen years, suddenly came crashing down. This dream of a secure life was not just a passing fairy tale story. I was living it – a happy marriage, a four-bedroom home, the “picket” fence, and two amazing children. Church, family, friends, health, steady income...everything seemed perfect.
There were some moments, seasons, experiences, and promises I knew were from the Lord. Some were amazing experiences, others quite challenging. The season of infertility, ultimately leading to the adoption of my two beautiful children, is one example. The reality, however, was that every moment, every season, and every experience was being shaped by the Lord, so when my house of cards fell, I would be able to remember the truth (promised in Philippians) that
“God works for the good of those who love Him.”
Believing for so long that everything was great was exhilarating – it made life easy. I felt safe, secure, and even lucky to have been living such a “normal” life – the “American Dream” if you will. During the highs, I praised God. During the valleys, my faith grew. Yet there was a problem I was unaware of during all this time. See, I was still in control...well, I tried to be in control anyway. I was working hard and relying on myself most of the time. I was raised to be independent and give 100 percent in order to be successful.
In an instant, my perfect life died. A valley was created that was so deep that even my husband and I, who always solved problems together, could not begin to crawl out of it on our own. I experienced one of the ultimate sucker punches that left me on my knees and without air...completely alone. My heart was burned, leaving ashes under my feet. Out of nowhere, I learned my perfect family and life were not so perfect. All that I had built and cherished came crumbling down around me.
My husband sat down one night and began what ended up being a nine-day-long full disclosure that he was struggling with an addition. Each day he shared a little more about this double life he had been leading. He explained he had been an addict since before we were married thirteen years prior. He explained that he had lied to me and betrayed me. Those nine days were, without a doubt, the worst days of my entire life. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t work. My heart was on fire, piercing my very soul, leaving me literally on my knees. How could I not know? How could he risk everything? How could he do this to me? How could he do this to the kids? How could he...period?
Depressed, angry, shocked, grieving, and unresponsive to encouragement, I stayed in that space for some time. I knew I needed to get up, but I just couldn’t gather the strength to do it. Grief was the only emotion that felt comfortable. Anger was easy. I didn’t know that heartbreaking pain could be felt so physically, nor so violently. Yet I knew wallowing in the pain would be the end of me. And here's the amazing thing, Jesus knew this too. He kneeled next to me, extending His holy hands, not to help me up this time...no, this pain was too great for me to get up just yet. Jesus’ outstretched arms at this time were meant for me to fall into. He promised me,
“This isn't the end. Give Me this pain; I'll do something with it – something beautiful.”
I heard God speak to me very clearly on one of those first nights –
“You can’t leave yet.” As I sat on my bed, tears streaming down my cheeks, I heard those words whispered to me as I settled into shock. Those words were enough for me. I could have ignored Him. I could have thrown my husband out of the house. I could have sought divorce. I could have done many things. But I chose, in that instant, to listen to and trust God – lie there in Jesus’ arms, hold onto His promises, and wait for the beauty.
In His arms, Jesus gave me a vision...maybe more like a picture. It was a picture I would continually frame into my mind’s eye in order to get out of bed each morning for the next year. The picture that repeatedly provided me with a safe place to sit when I just couldn’t sit anywhere else – the one that gave me hope was the picture of God covering me with his feathers. I would envision myself crawling under his wings into the security and shadows of His arms. Like a teenager might hide in her bedroom closet to weep with raw emotion, I hid under God’s wings and wept with my whole soul. God became my grieving cave. And in that cave, there He was – Jesus – our Savior of redemption and resurrection, speaking His timeless messages over and over again until I truly heard and believed them. Ann Voskamp wrote a book called
One Thousand Gifts. In this incredible book, she writes, “Only the Word is the answer to rightly reading the world. The Word has nail-scarred hands that cup our face close, wipe away the tears running down, has eyes to look deep into our brimming ache, and whisper, ‘I know.
I know.’”
Jesus, fully man and fully God, experienced every emotion we can experience...except two: anxiety and worry. Jesus will never be anxious, but Jesus knows pain. He knows grief. He knows rejection. He knows sorrow. He knows betrayal. He knows heartbreak.
He knows, and He cares.
Natalie Grant wrote a song called
Held. The lyrics say:
This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was when everything fell
We'd be held
My sacred was torn away – ripped from me. My home had fallen. My wonderful life was stolen. Part of me died last year. So why am I here now? I survived because I chose to fall into the arms of Jesus – where I was held and loved, carried and healed…where I was known.
That was over a year ago. I wish I could tie up my story with a big red bow. I wish I could tell you that I’ve unclenched my fists and am able to walk without pain. I wish I could say I’ve been happy and light-hearted since then. But I can't do that. You see, I’ve come to realize that part of the reason I was burned, part of the cause of my dream being desecrated, was that I wasn’t falling into the arms of Jesus as often as I should have been. In fact, I wasn’t at all. I was filling those moments of emptiness or pain with someone or something else. I was partnering with others instead of leaning on Jesus. My husband had become more important to me than God. Admittedly, my husband had become my god.
I was trying to do life on my own, and with my husband, instead of accepting God’s grace and love as enough. I was trying to be in control, forgetting that God’s plan is always better than my own. So, I have learned never to rely on someone or something else above God again, including myself. People will hurt us, but Jesus won’t. Jesus is my bridegroom. My worldly husband now comes second. Yes, we are still married. Happily, I might add. It was hard work. It continues to be hard work. But now, I run to Jesus first. I lean on the Savior of the world, knowing that the choice I made that first week of my crisis to obey God and not leave “yet” just may have saved my marriage – a true miracle!
I want to be authentic. The fact is, it has taken every day between then and now to see redeeming qualities from the crushing blow I experienced. To be honest, some days it is still hard to see any good from such destruction. Images from those nine days of disclosure still haunt me if I am not careful. The enemy knows this is an easy way into my mind, but I don’t let him stay there. I choose to see the beauty. I choose to see hope, and I see light. After all, I am safe in Jesus’ arms.
Being authentic is also telling others about my faith in a God who makes life worth living when I trust His plans for me. When I can't get a handle on my emotions or wrap my mind around the questions of what if? what now?, and when I can’t fathom a good ending to this difficult story, I'll stay committed. To quote Ann Voskamp again, “When bridges seem to give way, we fall into Christ’s safe arms, (the) true bridge, and not into hopelessness. It is safe to trust!”
I am committed to take God at His Word, despite circumstances. I believe Him to be a loving and just Creator who can make good come from anything...
anything! I have hope for what is unseen. He is the One who stands by my side; the One who draws near to me as I draw near to Him. He redeems everything. He can create amazing endings out of disastrous stories. Back to the book
One Thousand Gifts, “It is suffering that has the realest possibility to bear down and deliver grace. And grace that chooses to bear the cross of suffering
overcomes that suffering.” There is a God who takes the most hopeless situations and resurrects hope. He resurrected our hope: His name is Jesus.
I’d like to close with one more scripture. Exodus 33:22-23 says,
“When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by. Then I will remove my hand and you will see my back.”
Is it that? When life gets dark, is it that God, if we allow Him, puts us in a cave, covers us with His feathers, keeps us protected and safe until His shadow passes by in all its glory? Is He making beauty out of ashes as we lay secure in His arms so that when we emerge safe, sound, and changed, we will see His back as He continues on, fully in charge of the whole world, leaving us with a powerful message and pointed on the path towards our God-given destiny?
Editor's Note: The
Community Care ministry
provides emotional and spiritual support. There is a pastor or community
care leader available to speak with you today. If you have questions
regarding the Community Care ministries please contact
communitycare@mecklenburg.org or 704.598.9800 x 121. You may also learn
more at the
Community Care website and our
upcoming events page.
