Pearls and Presence, Chapter Eight- Refinement

 I will return her vineyards to her and transform the Valley of Trouble into a gateway of hope. She will give herself to me there, as she did long ago when she was young, when I freed her from her captivity in Egypt.

-Hosea 2:15

~*~

The sound of the ocean could now reach the confines of the valley, and the waves became the only noise as the two picturesque figures stood poised in divine stillness together. 

The girl watched with fascination as the tear of compassion glided slowly down his dark skin. It glittered with a rainbow of white colors in the faint light, looking exactly like a tiny pearl. She lifted her hands from the dusty ground as she remained keeling before him, and He himself knelt down directly before her. Face inches before her own, He reached out to wipe her own tears with His thumb.

As His hand brushed her cheek, she felt His touch communicate safety and belonging.

He cupped her face and smiled to reassure her. Something stirred within her soul. He reached down to take both her hands, ready to lift her to her feet. Mara’s eyes grew large with expectation when He held out his hand for hers. She placed hers in his ever so gently, with both timidity and certainty, and at His touch her entire body felt alive with tranquil joy. The emotion was so unexpected, yet she didn’t feel surprised at anything she felt in His presence now. 

His silence seemed to explain what human words could not.  Her only sense of understanding seemed to come from looking steadily into His eyes, so she remained transfixed in that position as they both stood up together.

Gradually Mara became aware of her breath.

It was slow and steady, and it matched His own. She deeply inhaled peace and exhaled fear, again and again. Mara started to speak, to ask Him what she should do now, but He covered her mouth with his hand for a moment and He looked at her. He was transferring divine power from His eyes to her own.

In His expression she could see the vast ocean and the stars and the universe, and His eyes were so kind and knowing that she forgot what she wanted to ask. Then He took His hand away from her mouth and smiled.

And when He spoke there was a place inside of her that had always known what this wild and regal Man in white was about to say for her. She had known for her entire lifetime, although she had never lived it.

“Beloved. I have redeemed you. Every part of your story can be used for my Kingdom. Every feeling can be directed towards good, if you walk close with me. We are going to journey together out of this Valley of Achor up into the light. Know that I am with you. I can return all that has been lost.”

Mara’s throat constricted with emotion. “I believe You. I trust You. I love You.”

In one fluid and completely natural motion, Mara stretched out her arms to Him in an embrace. He quickly closed the gap between them, and there was no distance between their souls. Her heart thrilled with joy as she drew her arms tightly around His neck and lay her head on His shoulder.

This was a treasure even greater than the pearl of great price.

For an eternal moment He was holding her in His arms, and she was holding Him. And Mara never wanted to let go, because it felt like the Kingdom had finally come. She was His princess and everything was beautiful and good and right.

This is what belonging felt like, to be in perfect alignment with her Redeemer.

Deliverance. Redemption. Freedom. Peace.

And then the moment was over, and the space between them widened. Mara lowered her gaze down to His feet, and she heard Him speaking truth again.

In her mind she thought, “I wish He would take me into His Kingdom this very moment.” But she dared not ask such a great request out loud in His royal presence.

But the Man looked at her lowered gaze and read her very thoughts. “It is not time, not yet. First I will give you a new name, and then you can go out to share your story.”

Mara was filled with sudden dread. “I will fail without You.” She clasped her hands tightly in front of her to hide their sudden trembling. “I will fail again. I can’t do this without You. I’m scared.”

“I will never leave you. Walk with me. I am here, I am with you always. You are a warrior princess for my Kingdom. Know your worth and live it.” He paused and smiled knowingly as if at some delightful confidence. “Mara, it’s time to use your writing for good. You are almost ready to share your gift.” He extended His hand and gestured for her to take it.

Mara grabbed onto his hand like it was a lifeline and nodded, blinking back grateful tears of relief. “I will. Oh, thank you. Thank you.”

And lifting her chin, smiling through her tears, she allowed the Man to lead her slowly up the stairs and out into the sunlight. She had to blink and squint her eyes against the brightness of the morning light. She shielded her face for a moment until she adjusted. Then together they walked steadily across the well-worn trail that led up to the door of her home.

He stopped and smiled gently. “I am the Truth. I know the Way. I want you to go inside your dwelling place and write your story, the one you need to tell the world. I will be your strength and your inspiration now. Use your writing for good, my child. It is the gift I have given you.” He let go of her hand.

“Write my story...” Mara hesitated. She stood there with one hand on the door, one foot on the path, and looked out at the vast landscape. There were miles and miles of ocean, sandy beach, and grassy hillsides.

And somewhere out there beyond the horizon were real people that she was afraid to know. Living beings in community, ones who were broken and redeemed just as she was, who could offer real love and companionship because they were not made of stone.

“If I write my story and share it, I will become vulnerable. The ones who read it are real people that could love me or hurt me. They could welcome my story or ignore it, affirm it or deny it, accept my story or judge my words. I am afraid to write, my Lord. I am afraid.” The vulnerability of this confession left her feeling exposed. Her lip trembled, so she bit it to keep from losing her composure.

“Ah my child, I am so proud of you. I want you to see yourself as I see you now.” He pressed His hand to His heart and smiled. “This day you have been baptized at my feet with your hair and your tears, and so this is the day you become Mine. The opinion that matters is Mine, and I say that you are a delight.”

His voice grew louder as if making a pronouncement to a crowd. “And now you will no longer be called Mara, which means bitter. You will now be called Tirzah, because you are My joy and delight.”

“Oh. Oh.” Mara felt the new name wash over her with grace and dignity. She didn’t have the words to thank Him.

“You belong to me now, and I am so proud of you. Keep writing, I am with You. This is going to be so good, your story is beautiful. Go now. Do the hard work of refinement. Trust me.” He gestured to her upstairs window.

Just as she turned towards the door and began to open it, she gave a sudden start as she remembered something important. “Oh, the pearls! We have to go back.” She was filled with remorse at the loss.

She left the door ajar and stepped back out into the path. But He gently squeezed her arm and stopped her. Without a word He pulled the string of pearls from His pocket and pressed it into her palm, the word Tirzah facing upwards, written in proud bold letters.

Mara looked down at it, and then slowly back up at Him, and He waited patiently.

 He nodded again towards the door.

So lifting her head high, she stepped gracefully forward with an air of royalty to push against the door and throw it wide open. The sea breeze rushed in, and the ocean applauded her courage with a roar. She faced Him for one last look.

Stepping forward He lifted the necklace high and placed it gently around her neck. And He was smiling at her with eyes full of pride and adoration at the dramatic effect the pearls had on her graceful appearance.

“Thank you.”

He nooded and she closed the door with a thud of finality. Mara turned and looked around at the quiet house.  Her heart pounded with the anticipation of the challenge before her. 

Yet, she was encouraged by the look she had seen in His eyes when He had given her a new name.  She had seen tenderness there when He said it, as if His very soul had spoken to her.  He had been visibly affected by her tears, as though they were His very own.  She had been transfixed by this Man, and that moment would remain with her forever.

She reached up to touch the pearls hanging around her neck.

She determined that she would only leave one single blank page after she was done writing. This blank page would be the chapter of her reconciliation to community, the final piece of her journey which was yet untold. Nothing else could remain unwritten, or her story would die without ever being told. 

Mara willed her heart to slow down as she walked up the stairs.  Each step was a victory. She stilled her breathing and began to calm her thoughts.

Her heart was made up.  With renewed strength, Mara walked across the upper room to the desk, where she had sat so many times before trying to find the right words.  She lowered herself onto the chair, looked for a moment out the window, then poised her pen to write. 

~*~

Months and months went by.

The waiting was much harder than she expected. The healing was slow.

Mara finished writing her story. Yet she knew that it was not complete, that there was something more still to come. The final blank page remained untouched.

Even as she healed slowly through writing, she realized that forgiveness and restoration were a long process and not a sudden arrival. The hard work of moving forward and letting go of the past, this was her refinement and her great test of patience.

So much time was needed to heal her past hurts. So much time.

Often, Mara paused in her chores and remembered the eyes of the beautiful, dignified Man who had given her a new name. 

“My Lord, what do I do now that my story has been written?” Her voice trembled with fear at this question, and she spoke it out loud into the wind. “How do I share it? Who do I tell? Where should I go?”

“Tirzah, I am the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. I will bless the work of your hands and honor you at just the right time. Have patience, beloved. Trust the refinement process.” She heard the words in her soul, because He dwelt with her there.

“Do I set sail away from this place? Or do I stay and wait? How do I share my story?” She was dying to know, to alleviate the great fear that she still carried with her, the fear of the unknown.

“No.”

“No?? I don’t understand.”

“No. Trust Me. Walk with Me. Wait with Me. Wait, Tirzah. Cease striving. Sit in your healing, dwell in it, observe your refinement and wait. The time will come. Trust.”

She sighed. She just wanted to know how it would all end. Would she ever become something more than an isolated inhabitant alone on this island? She was still so scared to leave her solitude. Part of her wanted to hold onto it forever.

“I don’t know what to do.” Her voice was carried away on the wind, out over the hills towards the sea.

~*~

Join me next time for the final chapter! 

www.persuasiveabundance.com

To go back to the beginning of this story, click here.

To read my personal confession of redeeming love, click here.

With deepest gratitude for all my readers, 

~Rebecca

Turbulent Faith

Who do I become when I abandon my fears?

An ex-pastor, a church ministry drop-out, a yogi, an impetuous disciple of Jesus, an advocate for the Kingdom, and a writer with a weekly blog that has a tiny tribe of readers.

I will leave a legacy behind for my children; it just won’t be the one I had originally planned.

I have been thinking a lot this week about the Apostle Peter. Mostly because I am SO grateful to read about all the blunders he made during his ministry career and all the setbacks he had on his spiritual journey. It makes me feel more human and less alone in my own discipleship.

This week in particular I have had some noteworthy setbacks, and I have been fighting the opposition with prayer, meditation, scripture, worship, journaling and writing.

As I wrote about in an earlier blog, I am an INFJ-T personality type. This stands for Introverted, iNtuitive, Feeling, Judging and Turbulent. It’s this last part of my personality that caught my attention the most- Turbulent. I looked up the definition and this is what I found:

“Individuals with Turbulent (-T) identity are self-conscious and sensitive to stress. They experience a wide range of emotions and tend to be success-driven, perfectionistic and eager to improve. They are also more willing to make a change if they feel stuck and to spend time thinking about the direction in which their life is going.

Turbulent individuals perform better in certain roles as they push themselves to achieve superior results. Always feeling the need to do more, to have more, and to be more, Turbulent types often forget how exhausting that can be to both themselves and the people around them – but it is entirely possible that this desire to always push themselves just a little further helps many Turbulent types to achieve what they seek to achieve.”

I immediately thought of the Apostle Peter. He was turbulent too. Sometimes it helped him and other times it hurt him. I feel connected to this disciple because I think if I had been walking around with Jesus in real life, I would have done some brave, crazy, exhausting and misunderstood things too, in order to push in closer to my Teacher’s inner circle of friends.

Heck, I already have.

I feel you, Peter. You are my brother from another lifetime.

As we turbulent types will discover, great wisdom comes from epic failure. To learn to be victorious, you must learn how to fail often and well. To be brave is to learn how to allocate and prepare for the high cost of risk-taking.  

Peter took numerous risks in his discipleship to Jesus that cost him dearly. He said some really stupid and dumb stuff, and made some dramatic mistakes that did a real number on his mental and emotional health. He had to hit rock bottom before he could become the rock of the church. In his time with his Teacher he had a whole series of epic fails. And at the same time, he went down a path of learned wisdom faster than anyone around him. He would become qualified to lead through his dramatic failings.

I feel this calling in my own life, to allow my mistakes to propel me forward into the arms of knowing Jesus more fully and leading His people. As I continue to write these blogs, I continue to estimate the cost and the reward for putting my flaws out in a public forum. I have had to repeatedly calculate the cost of exposure and forgiveness. So far, Jesus wins.

So I keep healing through writing. I choose to be vulnerable in a public space because I crave the courage that it takes to do so. I share my process because I believe the world needs more people who are willing to be honest about the things happening to them in real time, not just the old things from way in the past. This is how we forge community, by coming to a place where freely sharing of our weaknesses fosters continual support and genuine love in return.

Peacemaking is only possible if there are people willing to share their struggles and then stick around long enough to receive proper healing.

So how do you respond to a turbulent type? Well, I know from experience what Jesus will do. He will never ask me to stay away from Him until I get it right. He did not tell Peter to contain his larger-than-life, slightly too crazy enthusiasm for ministry. He will not ask you to please keep far away from His home because you are not trustworthy. He will not dismiss you from His table, sending you away in tears to go figure out healing by yourself. When you ask Him for help, He won’t remain silent or perhaps say something that makes you feel like a foolish beggar or a petty annoyance.

If you hear a voice like that, know that it is not your Teacher who is speaking. It’s the voice of broken humanity and flawed human reason.

At his most embarrassing moment as a disciple, Peter took his own Teacher aside and began to rebuke him. Can you imagine, pulling the Son of God aside and saying “Look, now, don’t say things like that, it’s too honest. Nobody says things like that out loud. That was taking transparency way too far. Your ministry is at stake, and your reputation. You are making yourself and all of us look bad, and it’s really going to get you and all of us into trouble. Please keep those particular thoughts just to yourself. You are better off not sharing that part of your story, trust me. It’s going to cost too much to say something as honest as that- be more reserved.”

Yet this is what we tell ourselves so often, isn’t it? We filter out the risky things, the brave and daring things, the honest and vulnerable things, instead telling ourselves that it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s better to be quiet than to risk offense. Don’t say too much, because then people might see the real you and reject who you really are. It might cost your reputation, your vision, your titles, your friendships. You might lose your hard-earned position of authority and respect. You might have to sacrifice the great name you wanted to make for yourself. 

You might have to lay down your dignity and pride.

You might have to walk on water- alone. Through the storm.

Jesus has a response to that voice of broken human wisdom: ‘Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.’” That is exactly what He told Peter when his voice of propriety tried to silence Him.

If your faith in God isn’t a little bit turbulent then your true calling is in danger of drowning in the sea of human opinions.

What Jesus said to Peter is exactly what we need to learn to say to the negative self-talk that tell us to keep our hopes and our dreams and our honesty to ourselves. “Get behind me, Satan.” When doubts fly at you like bats out of hell, you need to tell propriety to get the eff away from your faith. Then you need to drop to your knees and pray.

And you will discover that there is a redemptive quality in the transition from fearing the turbulence to trusting the Rock. In the midst of the refining process, you will hear a voice that sounds like this:

My child, do you passionately love me with your entire being?

This is a sign that you are on the right path and should keep going. Because you will hear this question again and again, once for every time that you deny Him, and every time your answer will be a little bit different. When you reply each time, you will feel a bit more confidence and have a slightly deeper definition of what you really mean by “love”.

But don’t worry about the details. He knows we can’t meet him where He is at because it’s much too overwhelming and the gift is too great to fathom, and so He walks along at our pace and stoops down low to hear our answer and honors our best attempt:

My child, do you passionately love me with your entire being?

“I like to walk with you.”

And a few steps further along the journey, He will ask again:

My child, do you passionately love me with your entire being?

And timidly we might say:

“Yes, Jesus, I do feel affection towards you.”

And by now Jesus is walking so close we can see into his dark brown eyes, and He respects our insecurities and meets with us on our comfort level:

My child, do you feel affection towards me?

And with both relief and longing for more, we can finally answer simply:

“Yes, Jesus, yes, I do”

He will meet us where we are, in the turbulence of our uncertainty and the turmoil of our unfolding journey. He will accept our reservations because the Teacher wants his students to know that this is a question that really needs to be lived before it can be answered. “Do you love me?” The entirety of our life story will be the response.

Peter was asked by Jesus if he loved Him. But he could only give an answer based on his limited knowledge so far. His love was growing, maturing, but it needed more time. And even though Peter was in process, even though he denied knowing his Teacher three times in public, Jesus still made room for redemption. He asked Peter to declare his love to him three times, once for every denial. And then Jesus changed Peter’s name from Simon to Petra, the rock, and chose him to lead the church. Because Jesus saw in Peter a potential to dare greatly, to say the unpopular and crazy things that would change the world.

He knew that this was a man who would jump out of boats into stormy seas and try to walk on water to close the gap. He knew this was a man who wouldn't walk away from storms, he would enter right into them. He saw the way that Peter’s turbulent faith would become a catalyst for radical change when it was understood, properly handled and aimed at the right target.

In Matthew 16:18, Jesus says, “And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”

And so I feel a kinship to my dear brother Peter. I also want to be a rock upon which Jesus builds a ministry. But first I have a lot to learn, to write and to heal. The stories of my mistakes are often in the forefront of my writing because they showcase my own turbulent faith. Without the turbulence, my limited wisdom won’t get me very far.

In our enthusiasm and haste to engage and participate in Kingdom work, Peter and I can tend to endanger our souls and drown our good intentions. We can jump without considering where our feet might land. We can sink right in the exact spot where we meant to stand.

Peter, at the first glimpse of Jesus, abandoned his fears and threw himself over the side of the boat. And it was mere moments before he found himself gathering his fears back onto himself and sinking under the weight of them all. The more he sank, the more he desperately grasped onto the many fears floating all around him.

We are all familiar with this inner conflict – it is very easy in our spiritual journey to walk with our eyes locked onto the pain that we are invariably facing.

‘But when he saw that the wind was boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink he cried out, saying, Lord, save me!’ Matt. 14-30.

In my attempt to get to Jesus I had to first jump out of the boat, completely fail and then cry out for help. I could not walk towards Jesus until I recognized my weakness. I had to completely abandon my fears, even though I was tempted to grasp at them for comfort. I had to open my empty arms to Him instead.

I am grateful to say that when I myself began to sink, I instinctively responded in the way that Peter did – I called out for Help. Immediately recognizing what was happening, I did not fool myself into thinking I could just swim myself back to safety. I realized that I must abandon my fears and not rely on them to hold me up. 

Some of us pretend we are not drowning, when in fact we really are.

And I have had to relearn this many times, again and again. He calls me out upon the water many times over. I have jumped out of many boats in the past 6 months, and nearly drowned just as many times. In fact, just this week there were several opportunities to take the leap that came with ample opportunity to lose my footing. And every time, Jesus was right there with me as soon as I cried out for Him.

He looks in my eyes, holds out His steady hands, and together we walk back to the boat. And as I have realized the damaging cost of my easily misunderstood and misdirected personality type, I have wept in repentance. My turbulent faith is in need of divine instruction and guidance, just like my dear brother Peter. I can’t manage myself without His help.

Because of our identity as beloved children of God, when we realize we are drowning in pain, our inherent right and privilege is to call upon the Spirit for help.

And help from God is usually easy to miss if we aren’t aware that the waves will stop only after Jesus returns you to the refuge of the boat. You still have to walk through the storm to get there- the pain does not cease when He comes alongside. Nowhere in scripture is there a promise that the storm will end when He takes your hand, although sometimes it can and does. But the promise is having Jesus walking alongside us as we continue to move towards victory.

We need to take a walk with Jesus and answer His questions about love. He takes our eyes off the fear, holding our timid gaze within His own steady one, asking us repeatedly if we love Him. He calls us out upon the water.

Although God never expects us to feign ignorance of our suffering, we must not let the pain overwhelm us to the point where we lose sight of the Hope in His eyes. We must keep listening to Him and answer His questions honestly. Focusing our eyes on His own will not diminish the pain- but it will overshadow it with blessed peace because we can accept the gift of truth, that we are the beloved children of God- every single one of us.

We are seen and loved by the Creator of the universe. He takes our face in His hands, looks deep in our eyes so that He sees all the way to our soul, and He speaks this truth-

“Remember what I say about you, my child. I am the authority on your identity. I alone have the final word on your goodness.”

The only way to navigate a successful reentry into alignment with God is to dare to brave the turbulence. And it might cost your favorite things and some precious relationships at the time it happens, but perhaps you will be given a new perspective and a new Love, one which reveals the sacredness of the boat towards which you are headed. You will be able to see something bigger that you didn’t notice before.

And after the refinement, that introverted-intuitive-feeling-judgmental-turbulent, personality can become the rock upon which Jesus builds a ministry.

I may or may not see the fruits of this investment in my own lifetime, but I believe it will be in the legacy which I leave behind me, through my writing, my parenting, my passion for the church, my love for the Kingdom, my obsession with Jesus, my turbulent worship.

My brother Peter and I, we are always making many hasty and emotional choices, jumping in to help with dramatic haste and not thinking about what comes next. But because of that tendency, I have a stubborn love of Christ that compels me to be the first one out of the boat, and I have a determination to walk on water to be with Him. I will always take big risks to be with my Teacher. All else is secondary.

It is the reason I know that I will hear again someday the call to serve in ministry, to take a chance and try again, no matter how close I came to drowning last time. He will call me out upon the water, and I will jump. And I will forgive anything and anyone who gets in the way- never let anybody get between you and Jesus. Forgive them so you can keep walking.

True forgiveness sometimes looks like putting yourself in a position to be offended again, and then choosing not to be. 

Other times forgiveness looks like surrendering your right to be justified by human affirmation. It’s choosing humility and sacrificing pride and standing right in the face of “it’s complicated”. Forgiveness is staring your shame and fear down until it cowers.

Walking on water is staying in the circumstance even when nobody would blame you for turning away, and most think that you should. You stand and face the hard forgiveness and stick it out for the long haul, when the healing gets really tricky. You stand there as long as it takes, no matter what, until God calls you out in peace and joy.

This is where true restoration can begin.

I believe that He can redeem my story through the lessons I am learning, because of my willingness to show up and let myself be seen. Because I am open to risking my dignity and denying my absolute right to get even- or, even easier, to walk away, to run, to hide.

I could just stay in the boat, or even better, not even get in at all and remain on the shoreline. But then, how would I encounter the Savior in all His terrifying glory? If Jesus could build His church on a turbulent personality like Peter’s, then surely he can use a broken and brazen person like me to serve His church.

“Here is the secret to all Christian ministry. If you are going to do any single solitary thing as a follower and servant of Jesus, this is what it’s built on. Somewhere, deep down inside, there is a love for Jesus, and though (goodness knows) you’ve let Him down enough times, he wants to find that love, to give you a chance to express it, to heal the hurts and failures of the past, and give you new work to do.” –NT Wright

Yes, Jesus, give me new work to do.

The kind that breathes life into Your church. The kind that integrates my gifts into my community and produces abundance. The kind that brings me joy and allows me to say “Yes, Jesus, I passionately love and trust You with my entire being. Let’s go do this thing together.”

We are all in the boat at one time or another. To everyone the storm looks different, but to all of us it is an opportunity for a leap of faith. When the Kingdom comes, all this jumping out of boats will be more than worth it. The storm will make complete sense to us on that day. Until then, plan on hitting a lot of turbulence. It’s going to be a rough walk, my friends. There will be some doubting, some drowning, some crying, some questioning, some epic loss of dignity and pride, a completely broken heart- remember to keep your eyes on His. 

You are a beloved child of God, a never-ceasing spiritual being with an eternal destiny in God’s great universe. Get in the boat, jump, tread water, pray hard and then call to Him for help with empty arms open wide.

Who do I become when I abandon my fears?

A yogi, an ex-pastor, an impetuous disciple of Jesus, a church ministry drop-out, an advocate for the Kingdom, and a writer with a weekly blog that has a tiny tribe of readers. An INFJ-T personality type- Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Judging and Turbulent.  A person like Peter, who became the rock upon which Jesus built His church.

I will leave a legacy for my children, it just won’t be the one I had planned. It will be better- it will be Divinely inspired and co-authored with Christ, because I have dared to get in, sail out, jump and brave the storm just to be close to Jesus.

I have dared to walk back with Him and answer His hard questions about love.

Thank you, dear reader, for walking with me here today.

With Gratitude,

Rebecca

To learn more about my personal story, click here.

Forgiveness and White Roses

I forgive myself daily. I extend grace to my entire being over and over again, for big things and for small things. 

To run away from suffering is to miss many great blessings, for when we suffer for our bold faith, this is when the Spirit comes more fully upon us. 


And so I remain in the tension and I fight for my spiritual gifts. And in the battle, I often make mistakes- but none of them are fatal, because I have learned to have compassion on myself. This is because I love who I am, and this is how you treat one that you love. 

How, then, am I unable to so freely and repeatedly give that same grace and forgiveness out to others, the ones I am called by God to love?? 

The only word I know for this type of behavior is hypocrite. And I don’t want that label. So I immediately grant myself forgiveness- and lots of grace. Which begs the question I already asked. And the discussion with myself about this is cyclical. Which is why I turn to guidance to break the cycle. Before I write, I read.

“I was extremely hurt but denied it, even to myself. I would spend hours trying to figure out how all this could happen to me. I was in shock, numb, and amazed. But I suppressed these thoughts and put on a strong front when in reality I was weak and deeply injured.”

I sit in my backyard on a patio chair, book in one hand and a pen in the other. I am reading a work by John Bevere which was a gift from a mentor and friend of mine. Every time I come to a line like this one, I underline and hastily scribble notes in the margin before I forget my first impression.

This part of the book is getting good. Really good. And very hard to read.

“Months went by. Everything seemed dry, my ministry was stale, my prayer closet was lonely, and I was in torment. I fought devils daily.”

Yep. I feel you, bro.

I sit back, lower the book into my lap, and contemplate the atmosphere around me. The chair squeaks in protest as I recline back just a bit in order to get a better view of the rising slope behind my yard. There are those stupid pine trees, the ones I am worried about being a fire hazard, but which make the most delicious sound when the wind blows through them. When a breeze moves through their branches, I close my eyes and imagine I have been transported to a mountain hillside. I breathe deeply, open my eyes and return to the book at hand.

“I thought all the resistance was because of the call of ministry on my life, but in actuality it was the torment from my unforgiveness. Every time I was around this man I came away feeling spiritually beat up.”

The torment of unforgiveness. Oh. Something resonates inside my soul.

I lower the book again and observe a bed of white roses that stand tall and proud, just beyond my reach as I sit in my patio chair. They remind me of a time when I used to bring gifts to anyone who needed encouragement. Sometimes my gifts were money, gift cards, medicine, notes, vitamins, care packages, written prayers, meals, snacks, tiny plants or white roses…

Today I refrain from giving, because I am now in need of receiving. It is a disciplined season of fasting from service so that I can make room for the consumption of grace.

“Then came the morning I will never forget. I was sitting on the deck on my backyard praying. ‘Lord, am I hurt?’ I asked. No sooner had these words left my lips when I heard a shout deep in my spirit: ‘Yes!’ God wanted to make sure I knew I was hurt.”

I underline, scribble some words in the margin, then stop to look around. The sunshine is warm on my feet, which are propped up on another patio chair. I look out over the tall hill which rises up from the edge of our property, observing all the green plants and the massive weeping willow which stands halfway down from the wooden fence at the top. I watch a late morning hiker and his dog make their way rapidly across the trail above me, and shush my German shepherd when she sounds off the alarm.

“It’s just a man, it’s just a person. It’s OK, he’s only passing through on his walk.”

My shepherd looks at me doubtfully, gives a few snorts in protest, then goes to lie down beneath the bed of white roses. She watches me from there with her dark contemplative eyes while I continue to read.

“’God, please help me get out of this hurt and offense,’ I pleaded. ‘It’s too much for me to handle.’ This was exactly where the Lord wanted me—at the end of myself. Too often we try to do things in the strength of our souls. This does not cause us to grow spiritually. Instead, we become more susceptible to falling. The first step to healing and freedom is to recognize you are hurt.”

More underlining, some highlighting, more words scratched in haste. I hear the breeze in the pine trees but I don’t savor it now because I am so captivated by the words on the page.

“Often pride does not want us to admit we are hurt and offended. Once I admitted my true condition, I sought the Lord and became open to His correction. I was ready for the bonds of bitterness to be broken and to be free from oppression.”

I pause here, because I need to contemplate the words I have read. Why does it speak to a deep place in my soul, where it resonates with the same transporting power as the wind in the pines?

“A few days later I was attending a church service. The man who had offended me was there also. I watched him from the back of the church and began to weep. ‘Lord, I forgive him. I release him from everything he has done.’ Immediately I felt the burden lift. I had forgiven him. What relief flooded me!”

I put the book down on the patio table and stand up.  I shake my head and wonder, “But what about relapses, setbacks? There are so many! No. Forgiveness is not that easy. Forgiveness is not so simple.”

I go inside and look for a distraction from my thoughts- dirty dishes will do nicely.

Too often we try to do things in the strength of our souls.

While I am cleaning them, the view from my window is the white rose bed. My dog has gone, but the roses remain exactly the same. I glare at them and they glare back at me in protest. They demand a reckoning. My thoughts go scattered in many directions while I scrub with soap and warm water. And I compose a prayer to God in my heart…

Jesus, I tried.

Forgiveness is hard and feels unfair.

And now I feel that sense of urgency, when fear becomes a currency.

I am here in my kitchen dreaming about victory.

Why is this taking so long?

I would stand here and wash dishes all day if I thought it would help.

Does it help?

I have rebuked the devil, I have pleaded the blood, I have claimed the promises.

Where do I go from here?

I need a task to do.

So I am washing dishes in the sink.

Leaning over, scrubbing with soap and water, cleaning.

I can see my reflection in the window in front of me, white roses in the backdrop. A faded version of myself, projected against the bright white petals on the other side.

I am thinking, not really present in the kitchen but somewhere else instead. In my mind am sitting with You and confessing my broken heart.

But there is such a stubborn hard place between us, a million miles.

I am the one who put it there, and I am the one who keeps it.

When I pray in Your healing power, I feel like a warrior princess.

When I try to heal all by myself, I just feel small and helpless.

I must have prayed for freedom a thousand times. 
Jesus, I'm trying.

Dishes and soap and water.

I have a cup in my hand, I am turning it over and over under the faucet.

Cleaning this dirty cup from the inside out.

From the inside out, healing will come.

From the inside out, offense will be defeated.
From the inside out, forgiveness will spill forth.

Stop striving, beloved.

Be still.

As I am looking at my reflection, I am filled with self-righteous anger.

And anger is a sign of pain, and offense is a defense mechanism.

My hands stop scrubbing, I pause in mid-action.

I look at the white roses straight on thought the glass, and see them watching me.

Hope is fragile but it always leaves a remnant.
But if we run from the fight, we will miss it.

And anger is a sign of pain, and offense is a defense mechanism.

Stop running from your unforgiveness. 
Turn and face it.
Look for the remnant.

My spirit calls to Jesus, and I invite Him in, and so He rushes across a million miles of cussed stubbornness to be close to me.

Helping me to remember how it felt when I first fell at His feet.

You bowed down at My feet, you called Me beloved.

Meet with Me there again. Call on MY power.
I am your Teacher.

My prayer rises up out of my soul, going up and up into the sky, rising to the Son.

…Dishes done, I dry my hands and return to my book outside. Now it’s just me and the white roses and the hard words on the page, with nothing in between. The fresh air rushes into my lungs as I breathe deep.

I open up the page which is already marked up in so many ways. I continue to read where I left off.

“But this was only the beginning of my road to recovery. In my heart I had forgiven, but I wasn’t aware of the extent of the wound. I was still vulnerable and could be hurt again. It was just like recovering from a physical injury. I needed to exercise, to strengthen my heart, mind and emotions to prevent any future injuries.”

My dog barks again at another hiker, but this time I don’t even bother to correct her because I am so engrossed in the words that come next.

“Occasionally I still had to fight off some of the same thoughts I’d had before I forgave. I rejected these thoughts as soon as I noticed them and cast them down- this was my exercising or striving to stay free. A few months went by. It was a training period in which my heart was exercised and strengthened. During those months I seemed at times to be getting nowhere. In fact, I wondered if I had grown worse. Finally I asked the Lord how to keep these thoughts from drawing me back into unforgiveness. I knew He desired a higher level of freedom for me, and I did not want to live the rest of my life holding offense at arm’s length. The Lord instructed me to pray for the man who had hurt me.”

I laugh out loud- of course. How Christian, how clichéd. I had also prayed in this way, and yet here I was still seeing the whole world through the same old filter of pain, listening to the same tape of offenses playing over and over in my head.

 This book was not offering me anything I had not tried yet. I refuse to look at the white roses, because I do not want to remember all the acts of service I did in ministry. I do not want to remember how I loved, how I served. I want to harbor resentment, to cherish my offense, and I cannot do that if I remember how good it felt to give of myself so freely.

“My soul was definitely in sorrow. But God began showing me how to pray for this man: ‘Pray the very things for him that you want Me to do for you!’ And so my prayers totally changed. It was no longer a dry, monotone voice without a hint of passion, out of obligation asking God to ‘Bless him, give him a good day, help him in all he does, amen.’ My words became infused with life, crying with passion and saying things like ‘Lord, reveal Yourself to him in a greater way. Bless him with your presence. Let him know You more intimately. May he be pleasing to You and bring honor to Your name.’ I prayed for him what I wanted God to do in my own life." 

Oh.

This was something I had not done yet. This was different. This was new. This was hard.

Ask God to give to someone else the very things I coveted for myself? Open up the possibility that another could be blessed in the way that I wanted for myself, through the power of my own prayers? Could this be why my idea of forgiveness was so hard to achieve, because it came from a selfish place? 

Something resonated deeply in my soul- there was a cry from way down in my spirit. I looked at the white roses and they nodded their budded heads gently in the breeze.

I lean forward to pick up some of the petals that had fallen onto the brick. I rub them between my fingers and feel their soft, cool smoothness. I continue to hold them while I read more.

“I had gone from praying for him for my sake to praying for him for his sake. I no longer had to fight the pain, nor was I critical of him.”

To pray for another for the sake the other and not myself- this was a nourishing concept to my hungry mind. To ask God to bless the other in the way that I myself wanted to be blessed- this was a spiritual practice that would take discipline over the course of many days. To give away, in prayer, my blessings instead of just my forgiveness- this could only happen with the help of divine Spirit.

A short ways further down the page and I found the exact words I needed to persuade me that this author knew what he was talking about.

Because I want all these words to be my own:

“When I first met that man he could do no wrong in my eyes. I saw no faults in him I loved him because I thought he was perfect. But when I was hurt, it was hard to love him. It took every bit of faith I had. Now that I have gone through this restoration process and have been healed, I love him with the same intensity as when I first met him, in spite of any faults. It’s a mature love. It is easy to love those who can do no wrong in our eyes. That’s simple love. It is another thing to love someone when we can see their faults, especially when we’ve been the victim of them. The love of God was maturing me and strengthening my heart thought this process. My heart was exercised to stay free from offense. I was on the sure road to recovery. I would not trade that experience and am thankful for the growth it brought to my life.”

I grab my pen and my highlighter and go to work. When I am done, I write ‘AMEN, YES I WANT THIS! Help me Jesus!’ in all the margins. I grab a sticky note and mark the page. I rise to my feet and look around me again.

The greens look greener, and the whites look whiter.

I stand there with a book of offense in one hand and white rose petals in the other. A symbolic picture of our Christian tension in this world.

We all stand and wait for deliverance from unforgiveness with fear clenched in one hand and a remnant of hope held tightly in the other. 

Jesus teach me how to love like You.

I smile at the white roses now because I have a divine power- I can pray my coveted blessings over someone else. This is the persuasive abundance I needed today.

When I come across 1 Peter 4:12-13 I know I have found a precious treasure, and so I write it in my personal journal because I will need it for later, when I am learning how to pray:

“Beloved, do not think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened to you; but rejoice to the extent that you partake of Christ’s sufferings, that when His glory is revealed, you may also be glad with exceeding joy.”

A handful of white rose petals. A remnant of hope. Forgiveness is calling.

When I drop to my knees at the foot of Your cross to pray, I come empty except for a small, soft, glowing hope.

I meditate, I fall to my knees, I lay prostrate before the cross, I practice centered prayer, I dwell on Your Presence, I worship in solitude.

I want to win this victory with You Jesus. The words of John Bevere bolster my courage.

 “Hard places will always come in our journey with the Lord. We cannot escape them but need to face them, for they are part of the process of becoming perfect in Him. If you choose to run from them, you will seriously hinder your growth. Recovery is your choice. Some people get hurt and never recover. That is their choice. Yes, it’s true that there are some offenses that will not go away easily or quickly. You will have to work through them, striving to get free. But in that process you will grow and mature. This glorifying is to the degree that you allow Him to perfect His character within you. So don’t look at the offense. Look at the coming glory.”

Someday I will give gifts of white roses again, when this long season of maturing is at its completion. Until then, I can practice by giving gifts of prayer. And I will continue to sit beside the rose bed and read the words of others who have been here too and can help me along the path to freedom.

And while I am reading, underlining and jotting notes in the margin, the white roses will be peeking over my shoulder and nodding their heads in silent agreement, dropping remnants of white petals all around my feet.

And forgiveness will heal.

Thank you Jesus.

Amen.

Rebecca

To learn more about my personal story, click here.