Each blog post I've shared so far has been from a place of wanting to teach and counsel. I get great joy out of teaching and counseling, and I've gone through hellfire enough times to see some things and know some things about some painful things. And wisdom is best shared.
But this bomb that recently blew up in my life has me feeling as if the wisdom I've learned and shared in the past is embarrassingly underdeveloped. I'm revisiting old journal entries, the books and materials I've gathered over the years on forgiveness and boundaries and healing, and I feel like past me missed out on something greater in my healing journey. (Hindsight is always 20/20 amirite.)
The healing journey naturally stirs up many questions, much of which asked while shaking a fist at the sky, demanding that God fix these wrongs — why did You allow this happen, why didn't I say something before, why does this have to hurt so much, why, why, why... Questions are great, invited even. Jesus answered many questions in His ministry, and He continues to answer our questions, though often times He answers them in a way that spurs more questions. The parables are an example of that. Here, in the topic of questions, is where past me had a narrow understanding.
When God answers our questions, He will never give us an answer that makes us believe we can be self-sufficient. It's not in His nature to give us something that will pull us away from Him. This is good news; our Creator knows what is best for us, just as the artist knows the painting's meaning through and through, and how the inventor knows their invention best. God loves His kids! He wants to do life with us, so God gives us answers that are straightforward enough to give us direction, but cryptic enough to motivate us to continue seeking Him. This opens the avenue to build a relationship with Him.
In the past I sought the Lord so He could answer the questions I had during the storms I was navigating. And I 'm seeking Him to answer questions in this current storm. There is nothing wrong with wanting answers. But I realize that my underdeveloped spiritual eyes didn't see how I needed to seek God for Him. And the lack of peace I was feeling in some areas of my healing journey was precisely due to this issue.
Seeking answers from God should never draw us away or take precedence over seeking God Himself. That is idolatry and it will break your heart every time.
I don't like that it's taken yet another storm for me to be made aware of this. In fact, I'm quite irritated and grief-stricken. And the questions I have are overwhelming, and heavy.
This isn't a warning against asking God questions, or taking your raw and real emotions to Him. Again, He welcomes it. He wants to do life with us, and He isn't scared of what we feel. He knows your questions and feelings, but He wants to hear them in the form of honest confession because He loves the sound of your voice.
This is a message of encouragement — be honest with God. Bring your questions to Him, bring your concerns and worries and hang-ups and raw emotion. It's what Job did in his grief. It's what Hannah did in hers. His prayers and her petition were brought to God in the midst of their grief and suffering. Job made some wild assumptions about his suffering, and a priest thought Hannah to be drunk in the temple because of her gut-wrenching and tearful prayers. (Read in Job and First Samuel 1.) Honesty can be messy, even in the presence of God. But these honest and gut-wrenching prayers produce a peculiar glory and even more peculiar edification.
It's hard to articulate why bringing our honesty to God is edifying and glory-producing, because a lot of it is an experience in the spirit. Not a feeling, but rather a transformation and change. I've experienced spirit-deep peace after honest prayers. Not simply because I'm being honest, but because the power of confession releases the emotion to God so He can untangle the knots it has created in my heart. But that is only possible when I am honest, and when I ask God for forgiveness. This is a peculiar grace, because I know I'm forgiven, but asking God for His forgiveness acknowledges my need for it. It's to practice humility. It's essential, otherwise you're not really praying, but using God as an emotional dumpster. True healing can't take place this way.
This isn't to say past me was only wanting to read scripture and seek God because I wanted something from Him. I love Jesus, I always have. But this current storm is giving me the eyes to see that I did not fear Him. Fear, in the Hebrew, means "to revere" or "reverence." Fearing the Lord is to respect Him. Therefore, it is entirely, and frustratingly, possible to love Jesus, but to live in a way that disrespects Him. I've heard it put as this: this kind of fear is the same fear you have toward your loved ones. You're afraid to do anything to break their heart or to hurt them. It's the same with God.
I don't like that I was blind to how I was breaking God's heart, and I really don't like that it's taking another storm for me to see the extent of my blindness. I'm embarrassed. But that's how stormy seasons can be redeemed; God's in the business of redemption. And that was the word He had for me at the beginning of this season — I am going through this storm hand-in-hand with Him, Who is redeeming and restoring the years the locusts ate (Joel 2:25). This season is not just a storm, but a refining fire.
I'm reminded of the story about the silversmith.
“And he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver” (Mal. 3:3).
This puzzled a Bible study group. One of the members offered to learn about the process of refining silver and inform them at their next study. He visited a silversmith and watched him at work. He watched the silversmith hold a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. The silversmith explained that in refining silver, you must hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest and most consistent to burn away all the impurities. The member then thought about God holding us where the flames are the hottest to burn away our impurities. Then he thought again about the verse. “And he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.” He asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire and watch the process at all times, or if he could get up to move around and come back to it.
The silversmith answered that not only did he have to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was tested in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. You must leave it long enough to serve the purpose of purification, but not too long as it would destroy it. The member was silent for a moment. Then asked the silversmith, “How do you know when silver is fully refined?” He smiled and answered, “Oh, that’s easy — when I see my image in it.”
Past me missed out on cultivating one of the most life-giving relationships I'll ever have for all eternity, because I was so focused on getting past the healing stage, the refining stage, the firing stage — like clay in the kiln, or silver at the heart of the flame — because I wanted to be done with the pain. I was tired and over it. But pain from a refining fire has purpose: to make us more like Him, just like the way refined silver becomes a mirror for the refiner. The most beautiful part? He never takes His eyes off of us during the entire process.
I'll make this clear: I have grace for past me. She did the best she could with what she had. Being able to recognize my past impatience and desire to avoid more pain is proof that God is working His redemptive power in my life, just as He promised He would. This brings me much joy.
This storm I'm navigating is intense. Some days I feel like I might shipwreck, and my first instinct is to measure the height of the waves.
However it's a waste of time to calculate the height of the waves in your storm when Jesus can walk on them anyway. All we have to do is take His hand and have faith, secure in the knowledge that storms pass, and He will never leave my side.
I'm just grateful that this time, my eyes are locked on the King.
~It is not well with my circumstances, but it is well with my soul.
