๐๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐๐๐ฒ
๐ ๐ฒ๐๐๐ซ๐ฌ ๐๐ ๐จ
“They say of some temporal suffering, ‘No future bliss can make up for it, not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory.โโ
~ ๐.๐. ๐๐๐ฐ๐ข๐ฌ
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ซ๐๐๐ญ ๐๐ข๐ฏ๐จ๐ซ๐๐
For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory;
๐๐ ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐๐ง๐ฌ ๐:๐๐
#Godisuptosomething
๐ป๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ป๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐๐, ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐.
I believed the words then.
I had to.
There was no other choice, no other hope to cling to.
Even then, I believed God was up to something. I just had no idea what that might be, especially considering everything that had unfolded in the year leading up to that post.
Looking back now, though, I can see His hand in all of it.
Reaching.
Rescuing.
Redeeming.
Gratefully, with the benefit of time plus hindsight, I can now fully attest to this:
There has been healing.
There has been purpose.
There has been growth that would not have been mine any other way.
I serve a magnificent Redeemer.
But let me also be clear:
Redemption is not the same thing as revision.
Jesus has transformed so much within me these last five years, but He has not rewritten what happened.
Nor did He author it.
What broke me, broke His heart, just as surely as it broke mine. It is impossible to read the whole counsel of Scripture and arrive at any other conclusion.
Some may witness stories like mine and assume that because beauty emerged, what happened couldn’t have been all that bad.
No.
It was terrible.
It was nearly my undoing.
I genuinely wasn’t sure I would survive it.
That is not hyperbole.
By God’s grace, I did survive, but not without scars.
Regardless, I can honestly say there was never a moment when my faith in Him faltered. Not one.
My faith in His spokesmen?
Sadly, that took a hit.
What followed was survival, not restoration.
I had to rebuild, more alone than I had ever been.
Dwindling support.
Even less empathy.
From the powers that be, no immediate plan but one:
Get rid of her.
Their mantra:
“All she’s ever done is cause problems.โ
โShe is not the only widow at [our church].โ
The callousness was shocking.
Disorienting.
Entirely unmerited.
But those judgments said much more about the ones speaking them than the One who silently listened.
With Jimmy’s death, my moorings gave way.
I wasn’t thrown a life raft, though.
I was simply thrown away.
Banished.
Silenced.
Defamed.
It is true that I am who I am today, in large part because I was discarded.
That is true, indeed.
It is equally true that I never should have been regarded as disposable.
With my earthly partner and protector gone, I seemingly ceased to matter.
I am stronger because I was forced to become strong.
That is true.
It is also true that I should have been shepherded, protected, and given room to grieve.
Both things can be true at the same time.
The fruit that has grown since is real.
I do not, for one moment, take for granted who God has been to me throughout this extended, bruised-reed, smoldering-wick season.
I never cease to marvel at His faithfulness.
He has been astonishingly kind and unfailingly good.
So yes, the fruit is real.
But so is the failure that made such costly growth necessary.
One truth does not negate the other.
Reeling, I poured out my grief before the Lord. Banished and broken, I clung to Him like one drowning, because in many ways, I was.
I found refuge and safety underneath the shadow of His wings. I found my settled spot in the secret place of the Most High.
I never felt less afraid or more secure.
Looking back now, five years later, what surprises me most isnโt even that I’m still standing.
It is that God never loosened His grip.
He proved to be who I always believed He was.
He kept me on my feet.
Every single day.
Not a moment of suffering was wasted.
Not a bit of wrongdoing was overlooked.
He refused to allow injustice the final word.
The scars remain, but so does the growth.
To acknowledge one without the other is to misrepresent the One who made me whole. To diminish the depth of the wounding is to diminish, simultaneously, Godโs power to heal it. Only an unvarnished accounting can truly demonstrate Godโs redemptive, transformational power at work.
He doesnโt erase history to make it more palatable.
He redeems it, instead.
Jesus, whose very name is Truth, has never, once, asked us hide the wrongs perpetrated upon us. He does not ask us to pretend the darkness was light. Or that what was done in darkness was of no consequence.
The consequences reverberate even today, though, gratefully, much more softly now. That is Godโs work alone.
It is true that we, and many, were harmed.
Fundamentally altered.
In the words of Jenai Auman, โOne simply does not come out of a spiritual Chernobyl unchanged.โ
It took years to shed the hurt. Such is the nature of unresolved relational chasms. Such is the result of refusals to engage.
Fully aware that there may be some who bristle at honesty, conflating candor with bitterness, let me assure you, nothing could be further from the truth.
I am not bitter. I am blessed.
Exceedingly, blissfully blessed.
It is possible to grieve injustice and still walk in victory.
It is possible to mourn the devastation left in powerโs wake and still delight in the redemption God has worked.
Five years later, I still carry scars. But scars are not wounds. They are evidence of healing.
I also carry a much deeper knowledge of the Shepherd who never cast me aside. That, dear ones, is no small thing.
So, friend, if you, too, carry scars from wounds someone else inflicted, learn from my experience and take this truth to heart. The Shepherd who never let go of me will not let go of you. Though people may fail us in unexpected ways, Jesus never will.
Your wounds are precursors to growth.
Your scars are testimonies of healing.
Find rest in Him today.
He sees, beloved, and He knows.
“The Lord Jesus Christ knows all. It is well for us that we are in His hands.”
~ ๐๐ก๐๐ซ๐ฅ๐๐ฌ ๐๐ฉ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ ๐๐จ๐ง