This actually happened prior to my last blog in terms of chronology. It was what allowed those rays of hope to filter through.
A couple blogs back I wrote about row boats and grief. I don't blame you if you didn't read it. Anything with grief in the title tends to scare people away. If you want to get the full impact of what I'm about to share, you may want to go back and read that one first.
I left that one with me and Jesus sitting in the row boat. I was in a hard place at that point in my relationship with Him, and even though we were in the same boat, I wasn't ready to budge. He needed to make the next move. I felt like He had let me down, that I had done all that He had asked me to do and He hadn't held up His end of the deal. Now you may be thinking that is pretty brash of me, and it is, but in all honesty, that is how I felt and I made no secret of it. God knew how I felt. Relationships and the emotions that go along with them don't always fit neatly into our rational boxes.
So, I sat in the boat with Jesus on the still water and waited. And every now and then I'd look accusingly at Him. I was angry. I was hurting. I believed I was justified in how I felt.
But the distance was almost unbearable. I wanted to erase the distance, but I wasn't going to move. He needed to move. So He did.
Here's what happened.
I had shared my testimony with a small group of people telling them what God has done in my life the last several years. It was an overwhelming experience, but I did it in obedience knowing that I needed to do it. I didn't get the response I had hoped for. This created a great deal of angst in me. I got angry. I was going to share how I felt some friends via email. But I hesitated and didn't hit the SEND button. Something told me to wait and share it with my husband. When I shared it with my husband, he said I was only going to stir up problems and it sounded like I was complaining.
My husband hit the most raw, tender, painful place he could have at that moment. I felt the same thing from him I believed God had done to me - left me hanging, unsupported, un-cared for, unprotected. Where was the one who was supposed to stand up for me? Where was my protector, my safe place? I hit a low I didn't know I could hit. I have never felt more alone than I did that night. Satan whispered in my ears and it was easy to listen. It was a dark night of the soul.
The boat was rocking. I feared I would fall out. I clung to the side and refused to look up. All I could think of was just staying in the boat. Where did Jesus go? Where did this storm come from anyway?!?!
The next day God sent a friend to comfort me.
Two days later, my husband and I talked and this relationship was restored. There was understanding and love.
Three days later, on a Sunday morning, I went for prayer. The two prayer ministers that met with me did not know me. I shared with them the readers digest version of what I've been through, but I did not mention the story of the boat and the storm.
They prayed. They read scriptures.
Not just any prayers. Not just any scriptures. Personally meaningful things that have been significant to me over this past year.
Things they could not have known.
God was speaking to me. He was present and powerful. He reminded me of truths He had shown me previously, of ways He was answering my prayers that His will be done in my life. He clarified my misconceptions and made some things clear I hadn't thought of.
They asked if I had anything to confess. I did. I repented of my lack of trust and faith. That in my anger I had sinned in thought and speech. I doubted Jesus' love and ability to intervene.
Then, one of the prayer ministers looked me in the eyes and said, "Do you know the story of the disciples in the boat and Jesus is walking toward them on the water in the midst of the storm? They were so afraid of the storm they didn't recognize that it was Jesus."
I stared at her, dumbfounded. How did she know?
I see Jesus hugging me, I'm crying on His shoulder as we sit in the rowboat. This vision fills my mind.
I am undone.
I am still marveling at that hour in a prayer room where God met me in a powerful way. As I reflect, I can see how He used my husband, my symbolic Christ, to till the soil of my heart and prepare me for meeting with Him. And I marvel at noticing the timing of 3 days and meeting Him on Sunday morning. I am beginning to see how all the disappointments of the last year are serving to create more space for Him in my life, more dependence, more self-surrender.
Is there something special about me that God would speak to me like this?
No.
He responds to every heart that seeks Him.
Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. Mathew 7:7
until next time...
and the greatest of these is love!
