Coming Home

Reconciliation is sweet and it's worth fighting for. But that isn't how it always comes about.

I don't really know if time heals all wounds. I've seen my share of bitterness in my family and I can tell you that time can also make some wounds run deeper and take on a life of their own. But as I've gotten older I've also seen that time does heal some wounds because God is always helping us grow up.

The truth is that some wounds are so complicated and muddy that even if you wanted to and had amazing discernment and self-awareness, you still could not heal the wound yourself. But that's also the nature of reconciliation. It takes two willing parties. But once again, I've sat at the table with the willing party and tried to clean it up together and sometimes that works and sometimes is actually makes it worse.

I find that comforting and unsettling all at the same time. I certainly characterize myself as an overly responsible person. Much of my walk with God has been answering the simple question, "What am I responsible for?" Sadly, I've been way off on my understanding of what God intended and He has been slowly and gently redefining my understanding of His role versus mine in my life.

"Surrender the script" has been the Lord's quite whisper to me for some time now. However, that requires trusting the maker of the universe with my heart and future and, well, everything. Easier said than done. But even there He has been gentle and patient yet persistent to rescue me from myself. Sometimes I just want to be in control because I think I can do something better than those around me. (To be honest I probably can!) But other times, I think its my job and is part of being faithful to Christ. I have a deep desire to be found faithful and I think that honors God, but He is also committed to my freedom. Gal 5:1 - He knows the burdens of this life are too hard and heavy for us to carry so He is continually asking us to cast our cares on Him because He cares for us.

As a child, I think I spent a great deal of time waiting for help to come. I know this because the few times it did come, I remember vividly. Once, while driving home from college, my car would not change gears from 2nd to 3rd. It left me driving at 30 miles an hour which would have made my 4 hour trip home, 8 hours. I was trying to get home for an event I was singing at and was very distraught that I would miss it as a result of the transmission acting up. With panic in my voice, I called my Dad from the road and asked him what I could do to fix it. He made a recommendation and I followed it, but saw no immediate change in the car.

Back on the road I began to weep that I was going to miss the event and eventually conceded that my fate was sealed. As I cried and surrendered the script, God showed me how much I had been striving in multiple areas of my life and that I was a pretty mean task master to myself. I remember experiencing the relief of ending my striving and just letting life play out instead of trying to bend it to my will. Within 15 minutes of that revelation and freedom, the car shifted and I was back up to speed and going to make my event. I remember the tears of joy and being pretty impressed with God's way of teaching me.

But 2 hours later I was in for another surprise. As I neared home, I saw my father pass me on the road pulling a trailer behind him, clearly intending to load up my car and help me make my event. I was stunned. It was a beautiful rescue mission just for me and at a high cost to him. He was supposed to attend to a racing banquet that night to receive an award and recognition for his season. He had even purchased a new suit for the occasion. (That's a big step for my father the farmer/mechanic.) But here he was driving past me with a trailer in tow, sacrificing his own plans, to help me in my time of need. Again I wept and a broken place in me found some healing.

But those events were so rare for me as a kid that eventually I gave up believing help would ever come. In eighth grade I had a bully in my face all day, every day from the moment I stepped on the bus till the moment I got off the bus. Most of my evenings were given to replaying the days events in hopes of figuring out how to defend myself tomorrow more successfully. It was never physical, but the battle of words and public humiliation left me with a very sharp tongue and a deeply wounded heart by the end of the school year.

I remember thinking all year long, "Why isn't anyone helping me?' "How is it possible that no one has noticed what this boy is doing to me every day?" "Where will my help come from?" By the end of the year I was convinced that help would never come and I was on my own. My mom says that a wall went up in High School and she is right. In fact I spent the next 6 years reinforcing it, adding battlements, digging a moat and filling it with alligators. My heart was no longer available to anyone. I was simply done trusting anyone but myself.

(Understand that this bully doesn't get all the credit for my castle building. A foundation of disappointment, hurt, abandonment and wounding had already been laid by my own family. The bully just cemented the building permits.)

My battlements and alligators were sarcasm, belittling, arrogance, anger, annoyance, blame shifting, excellence, hard work, endless analysis and massive overachieving. These are all very effective attention diverters. If you can keep everyone focused on their issues or your achievements, then you don't have to bring your heart into the mix. Perfect! That is exactly what I wanted. It worked for years and has continued to be the place God and I have met to do battle. But be careful when you go to war with Jesus. He always wins the war, though he may let you win a few battles along the way.

Not long ago I had a vision of the status of my castle having followed the Lord 25 years now. It is pitiful. It looks like a relic with the walls in ruin and very few places to hide or take cover. No moat, only ireland-green grass with a light breeze at sunset. The battlements are in complete disrepair. I still hide behind the walls at times, but they provide terrible cover now. They are thin and there a lots of gaps in the wall. To be honest I just feel silly sitting there knowing I'm not really protected but rather I'm just going back to what's familiar to me when I feel afraid.

That is the God you serve. He will destroy your castle. Unlike people, He is not impressed with talents and techniques we use to hide our hearts. In fact I would go so far as to say He sees it as a challenge and He is always up for the task. He will fight for your heart and has been since He knit you together in your mother's womb. He knows your sadness, hurt, wounds, betrayals and abandonments. He has watched you construct your castle. To be honest, children need castles when they are not cared for well. God let you build that because you probably needed it as a child. But we are not children anymore and the castle that protected us then, will isolate us now. So he is committed to its dismantling as well.

My journey with God has been more like an epic battle than a stroll in the park. He has used every trick in the book. As I've reflected I've seen His tactics more clearly. During that eighth grade year with the bully also came a vibrant Christian music teacher who was full of life and affirmed me in so many ways. He and his wife were in a Christian rock band. They even recorded an album and gave it to a bunch of us kids. I can still remember some of the songs and I heard the Word of God in music before I ever read the bible. He also taught me how to play guitar which has been a great gift to me during the war.

God has used miracles, healing, pain, worst case scenarios, the love of a faithful man, the joy of children, the wounds of ministry, the salvations of my family, controlling leaders, little black dogs, and music to usher me into my freedom. Because at the end of the day, the last thing I want to do is win the epic battle. I don't want to be in charge. I've done it my whole life and it is exhausting. But the path has required trust and God knew that it would take a very long time for me to really trust again.

From where does my help come from? It comes from the Lord and always has.