I have said in several earlier posts, that someday I would share with you "Wreckage." And, as I was sitting and thinking about how to begin the story of "dream number three," how to explain what happened immediately before and after, "wreckage" came to mind. Over the span of about 10 days in July, it truly was just that.......wreckage. Banged up, smashed up, totaled cars. Crunched and mangled, fractured plans............illusions of people, purposes and promises.......shattered and devastated, and any notion that we would be able to stay in our lives, in our home, in our comfort zone, gone. All of it, wrecked in a field and later hauled away, never to return.
As I said, in"The Poets Prophet," there were 2 events that surpassed all others, in the damage and devastation they inflicted. I also stated, that while our own wounds seem forgettable and dull, it is the wounds we see dispensed to others, that are the far greater torment. So it was in May, and so it was again, in July. But, worse than the pain of your friends, is the pain of your family. And, once again I found myself hurling into the pit. But, this pit, was especially designed for me.
Pits are found all through out scripture, Joseph was in a pit, Daniel was in a pit. The enemy intends them to be the place of our destruction, our devouring or abandonment. But, as we see in the Word and hopefully, in our own lives, we learn these lessons in the pit: We are not alone there, Jesus is with us. He protects us there, He teaches us there, prepares us there and then He helps us leave there. Pits are literally, traps you fall into. You DON'T leave the pit on your own. You have to be helped out and He is our Help.
Pits are not unique to me, or to any of us, we've all endured one, and we've all set our own traps for others. It's only worth mentioning, if it was a catalyst, into something greater.......if it was not the end of a story, but the beginning of newer, greater one. It's not just a writing style or method of mine, that many of my stories begin with the painful, disappointing part first, you see, more often than not, that's exactly where every great thing Christ works out, in my life, begins. Start there, move through it quickly, perhaps a little slower if there's something to be learned from it, and then move on, to what He did with it.
And, so we have "Wreckage," my wreckage. It only took me 9 months to share it.
It's funny, I remember three years ago, going to a conference in Nashville and R.T Kendall spoke. He has, what I feel, is the best book on forgiveness ever written, Total Forgiveness. He was speaking to a packed room of pastors about the hurt they are holding on to and needing to break free from. At the end, hundreds went down to the altar, broken and tired. Andy and I stayed in our seats, so relieved and grateful we couldn't relate. And, though at the time I truly couldn't relate, it really resonated with me. I had no idea that God was equipping me, even then.
I've repeated his message on forgiveness more times than I can count. Kendall uses the story of Joseph to dissect what it really means and looks like to forgive someone. I'm giving you the key points, but it's a lousy substitution for getting the book. GET THE BOOK. To really forgive someone, you must: Never tell how they wronged you, never let them fear you, never let them feel guilty, do not wait for them to repent, protect them, pray for them and bless them. And then, repeat until you get it right. I'm not there yet, but I heard the message, I know it's God's Word and I am now accountable for it. And, for that reason, I will tell you the effects of this particular pit, what I learned in the pit, and most importantly how He helped me out, because it was a game-changer and significant to our story.........but more than that, would be inappropriate. So, until I better know how to share that in a way that edifies the body, it will remain in pages, unwritten.
Through the summer, I felt like I was doing okay, really. I was able to function in our new normal and though nothing had changed or improved we were finding some kind of routine and stasis, even in chaos. I felt a sense of peace, that I was learning and growing in Gods will and until July, I really believed everything would work out and God would be glorified through restoration.
But, the events of July, left me feeling as though I had made it through months of Wilderness, months groping around in darkness, I was finally starting to see light at the end, a way out ............. and then, THUD! Into the Pit, I fell. I felt like I had survived 90% of the worst, to make it to what seemed like maybe within just weeks or even days, of our exodus, only to lay down in the dirt and give up completely.
I do hope that paints a picture for you, I can still see it in my mind, and this is how I described it even then. Picture it, the Wilderness. You are dropped into it with nothing, no supplies, no sense of direction or time, no idea why or for how long you'll be there. It takes months, to get over the shock, to start participating in your survival. Even longer, before you actually think you're getting a handle on this, you're not just existing there anymore, you're thriving. You've adapted, developed a regimen, now you're learning, growing, acquiring new skills. And finally, you start to think.........not only could you survive here, for however long you needed to, but miraculously, you may actually make it out. I made it that far, nursing not quite healed wounds, but regaining strength, building determination, even a bit proud of myself for not giving up already. And then, blazing towards me, fiery darts from out of nowhere, arrows from the enemy. This final assault, so effective, I truly did decide to just lay down, put my face in the dirt and lay there. I was done assessing, done coping and done fighting. It wasn't that I was a quitter, I just felt like I understood my reality better now, and the reality was, I had miscalculated. Overcoming, should have never been my goal. Endurance, maybe......survival, patience or grace, might have been attainable goals, but not victory, not triumph. I could see that now, how naive I had been, enduring does not mean winning...........participating or even completing something, does not mean winning. I had it wrong all along. I thought this was a timed contest, that would eventually come to an end, with winners and losers. It wasn't that at all. This was training, no points given, competing against yourself only, and I had hit the wall. I had peaked short of the finish line, close no doubt, but short. It wasn't like I gave up for no reason, I had done the best I could, believed as much and as big as I could, but I was spiritually, mortally wounded. And for that reason, decided to get away for a few days, to Dallas. After all, why stay?
I wish I could tell you I had been braver, stronger....that nothing steals my joy or hope. But, the truth is, I went for almost 4 days, Saturday to Tuesday, not speaking to my Lord, not praying, not praising.....I didn't want to talk about it, didn't want encouragement, I wouldn't even listen to praise and worship music. I didn't read my Bible or any of the studies, that had been my constant companions for months. I was too tired, too hurt, and too defeated. I wouldn't say His name, I wouldn't cry out anymore. I had asked, pleaded for months and now..... I was done, maybe not done with God, but done struggling, done hoping. But, He was not done with me.
Sometime late Tuesday afternoon, my resolve began to crack, He began softening my heart, speaking to my spirit, in the tiniest, bearable amounts. I'll have to go back through my journals to see what exactly it was, that began opening the floodgates. But, I remember gradually throughout the day, I wasn't ready to pray yet, but I would find myself whispering, a time or two....."Jesus, Jesus." Then, later, I turned on my music, wouldn't sing along-heaven forbid- but I was listening. Then, I was listening to sermons, one in particular, from Brady Boyd at New Life in Colorado. Brady Boyd, is the pastor that followed the disgraced Ted Haggard, he is also the pastor that on his 118th day as pastor of New Life, witnessed a gunman opening fire on a Sunday morning, killing two. His message was entitled, "When God Disappoints Us." It's an extraordinarily powerful sermon, and as I thought about his words, I felt the Holy Spirit whispering to me, "It's a lie, it's the greatest lie of the enemy." And it is, Satan wants us to believe that God is a great, big disappointment. He doesn't want us to focus on everything He has done for us, given us.......the enemy hopes we remember only, the time it didn't turn out as we'd hoped. Forget creation and Calvary, and meditate on the times God's answer was anything other than, "Yes." Remember your suffering, your loss, your own desires, unfulfilled. Satan wants us to live and breathe every expectation that wasn't met, every "good thing" God has withheld. This is a form of bondage, and it's one of the enemy's favorites.
By Tuesday evening, I was broken again, humbled before the Lord. I confessed my sin, my anger, hurt, my wrath towards others, my weakness, my confusion. I began telling Jesus, "Lord, I just don't understand. I don't see Your hand, I don't know where You are, or I would be running towards You. I don't know what You are doing or what I should be doing. Lord, I have walked by faith and not by sight for months, I need sight now. I need just a glimpse to point me in the right direction. Lord, I'm too tired, too broken to dig it out for myself today." And, I was.....I really was.
Do you know the fog that comes with "rock bottom?" It is a fatigued, exhausted version of yourself. On one hand, I felt like I was so emotionally and physically tired, that I was only passively participating in my life. But, on the other hand, there is a certain clarity and security that comes with truly believing, it could not possibly get worse. I was in that fog for 4 days and finally Tuesday, felt like my breakthrough was coming. But, no one, was as shocked as I was, at the form my breakthrough would take.
That night, or morning, as it were, July 6th, I had a third dream. The same, as the others, in some ways and yet, vastly different. I was awake, I know I was awake. Like the others, it was incredibly detailed, very definite meanings, it was in color, it was between 2-4 AM, and I felt only peace and calm during and after it. There, the similarities end. Before, my dreams were very brief, in dream 2, there wasn't even scenery or images. But, this one was packed with information, meaning and content. This one had many other people and settings in it. And again, as soon as it was over, I leaped out of bed and started writing. I still remember every bit of it, but that night I was so overwhelmed, I actually recorded myself saying it aloud, while it was still fresh. By early the next morning, I had repeated it to Andy, to my parents and then parked myself at the computer, researching it. There were several Old Testament references, and though I felt like I understood them, I wanted to be very sure I wasn't missing some of the context or meaning. It was, at the same time, the craziest thing I've ever experienced, and the most clarifying, reassuring and normal thing I've ever experienced.
The first dreams, I felt, were for other people, but this one was for me. And, while I understood what I was seeing, understood the important parts that I was supposed to be paying attention to, I didn't understand what I was supposed to do with it. There was only one specific part, that I knew was for someone else, and I, trying to be good to my commitment, was obedient to share that part with the intended person. It was a message of comfort. After that, I was totally at a loss.
A side note- I am really praying and thinking about how best to present this, and while I believe I understand how, I also know it may seem unfair or frustrating to you, the reader. For that, I apologize. But, most of the third dream was for me and me alone. And, while I have no problem telling you what it was about, I hesitate, because I am still coming to terms with it's meaning and significance for my life. Oh, I understand what it meant- the images, the symbolism........... and I believe it, alright. But, I don't understand what it means for my future, or ministry or how to use it to encourage the body, just yet. I believe only time and the Holy Spirit will help me with this. Someday, I will write a book, it will be called, "The Writing on the Wall," and perhaps then, all of these unwritten pages will find their place.
I was earnestly seeking wisdom and further understanding, but I wasn't even sure where to begin. I began calling one or two friends, one or two pastors, I researched a couple people to email, but didn't feel like any of these doors were supposed to open, so I didn't pursue them. But, I did begin praying that someone would be put in my path who could offer a unique insight and wisdom for me. I asked several people to join me in praying that God would put a "counselor" in my path, who was objective and removed from my situation. I honestly didn't think this person would be in Lubbock, after all, if they were, I would already know them. Over the last year, we had developed some close relationships at the seminary, and in some of the churches we had either talked to, in years past, or had friends currently serving in. I felt confirmation in my spirit, that getting away to Dallas, was becoming even more important.
Mom and I had already decided, that weekend, we were hitting the road, a decision made immediately upon entering the Pit................ but unbeknown to us, this would become a decision, paramount to our departure of not only the Pit, but the Wilderness.
So, here is our time-line thus far- Devastation of the Pit, Saturday. Pit dwelling, Saturday-Tuesday. Dream 3, Wednesday. Friday- Mom's birthday (we'll visit that in a minute.) Saturday, leave for Dallas, Saturday......wreckage.
Mom's birthday........with the exception of a small group of friends, no one had any idea what had happened that week. But, those that did, had been reeling right along with us, for the better part of a week. We had pretty much been in seclusion, easy to do with 4th of July earlier in the week, until Friday, when Andy would be playing a gig. Andy attracts talent, amazing talent, but even more than that, he attracts amazing people, Godly, courageous, steadfast, burden bearing people. It's just gravy that they are musical phenoms. Getting to spend time with these good folks and their good folks, was always enjoyable. So off we went.
Totally a normal night, all my favorites there. I only share this because of a few key conversations. The first, was with my dearest "Smiths." We were talking about the fact that mom and I would be leaving town the next morning. Mother Smith asked if I was taking the babies.........and strangely I was not. I remember so distinctly, telling her that it had been a very difficult week and that for the first time, in their lives, I was leaving them at home. I'm a stay at home mom......if I go, babies go. Always have. Especially, with mom going with me........any other time, without exception, we would have taken the babies. You see, mom and I had made this same plan at least 5 times that year......"We're just gonna get away, just us, no kids, and decompress." And every time, schedules, life......guilt.......got in the way, and the few times we actually went anywhere, babies went. I told Mother Smith, that for some reason, I had such a peace about mom and I going alone. Even though it was inconvenient, as Andy was leaving in the morning for a youth camp. I knew in my spirit, this was a trip I needed to be on and I needed to be on it with my mom, and only my mom.
It was almost 10pm when we left Andy's gig and I took the babies home while he loaded up. For some reason, I felt so impressed to just enjoy how sweet and precious they were being. Usually, late nights spell blithering heaps of stickiness and yelping, but tonight being worn out had made them melt into goo of a different sort. They were simple and silly, giving kisses and hugs to me and each other, we sang and read and snugged. I just didn't want it to end and when Andy came home after 11 we were still snugged in. Daddy normally tucks in kiddos, but tonight I wanted to. I made sure to kiss each of their faces at least five more times.
That night as I lay thinking about the week, the dear friends we were surrounded with and how God had blessed me with such a precious family......I began to pray over all of it, the more I prayed, the more I felt like I needed to pray and soon it became fear. "What if something happened? What if this wasn't the worst that it could be?" In the last year, we had seen so many heartbreaking losses of children, spouses and families. I felt burdened to pray over everyone, but wasn't sure why, I was trying to pinpoint why my spirit was so troubled and when I couldn't, began to really be consumed with fear. I couldn't let it go. I got back up and went to the kids rooms and began pleading the blood of Jesus over them, praying specifically for health, safety and their salvation. I then went to Andy, and again, began pleading the blood of Jesus over him, over his travels, his protection and safety. I went to bed feeling only somewhat at peace. Watchman Nee, in his book, Let Us Pray, talks about when you have a burden to pray for something, continue to be mindful of whether or not you feel released of that burden after prayer.......if you don't, persist in prayer, God intends to breakthrough something and wants you to be a part of it. I felt like I still had a burden and continued to pray on and off through the night.
We were leaving very early the next morning, so by 5, I was wide awake. As soon as I put my feet down, smack.....burdened again. I repeated my ritual, but this time I felt like I needed to pray for my own travels, I hadn't the night before. When mom and I met up, I told her about my restless night and we prayed together, for our safety, for our trip to be fruitful and relaxing. And then, off we went.
That morning in the car, the conversation was different. It was free of anger, free of sadness or hopelessness. It seemed like since the dream, God had been speaking something different to us, to all of us. In the last couple of days, I know I had begun to feel like I had missed the mark somewhat. This was becoming less about the actions of another person and more about what God was intending for each of us, completely separate from our situation. The dream was a powerful thing for me, and it made me think "Wait a minute, are you talking to me Lord? Are you trying to wake me up to something or teach me something that is entirely independent of this situation?" I felt like the answer was, Yes. Definitely, Yes!
Mom and I had been on the road for 2 hours, having this exact conversation. There was no music, no phones, no sermons or texting. Just us, on the road talking. We had both become keenly aware, that God was doing something here, we didn't know what exactly, but it was much bigger than we had imagined. It was the beginning of letting go of our situation, and embracing that everything that had been consuming us, was becoming secondary to a much greater thing. We had stopped and switched drivers and now I was driving. Which is a good thing and a God thing.
You see, I have been in a horrible car wreck before, years and years ago. But, it made me one of the few drivers I really trust. I always prefer to drive, or sit in front making sure the driver's awake and alert. I don't want to be in a car wreck, ever again.
As we continued on, mom and I were having this exact conversation: Everything in the last 6 months had shown us what we lack as believers and what we, had desperately, hoped to see in our situation. And while it was disappointing, it was also clarifying to identify those things, so now we can pursue them. We had seen a lack of discernment, a lack of prayer, a lack of humility, a lack of courage, a lack of wisdom and a lack of accountability for months. Summed up- a lack of the Holy Spirit. In its earliest form, we saw roots become a stronghold. We saw up close and personal, how spiritual attack, pride and idolatry can take hold and destroy everything around it. And, even as believers, we were ill equipped to do anything about it. As Baptists, we were not trained in the art of War, which is not to say we weren't trying, we were relentless in our prayer, but we weren't using the weapons in our arsenal, we didn't know how. We thought fighting our own flesh, was offense enough. It was not. I thought as long a I could be proud of my conduct and choices, that was the only defense I needed. I was wrong. Nothing is won with defense alone. We were fighting oppression, darkness and principalities.........and we were losing. God has given us weapons of righteousness, weapons of war......He has given us not just divine armor for our defense, but weapons for attack, weapons that free captives and break chains.
|
1 comment:
I sent you a long personal email regarding your last blog but I am not sure it actually got to you.. But it's been crazy for your family and mine these days. I won't ramble on again but know that I have read this and it has deeply touched my heart, and maybe there will come a day when I can express that to you in person, a girl chat or cup of coffee somewhere. We love you Sara, you have been anointed with a special gift , thank you for sharing with us.
- Lisa Stice
Post a Comment