The Suitcase – Letting Go

Hauling around past failures, regrets, and hurts in a ridiculously large suitcase (of course it’s large, there’s a lot of that stuff, right?) is exhausting. And just when you think you’ve got a good grip on it and can handle it, or maybe you’ve figured out how to hide it so you can forget about it, you find yourself tripping over the contents that have spilled out in an ugly display at your feet.

You hear laughter.

What in the world is going on? What are these painful things, these ugly memories doing all over the place? You loaded them up a long time ago and stashed the suitcase. Somewhere. In your closet or maybe in the basement where you store all the musty things from your past you hope to forget.

But there they are: the very details of your past glaring at you. They’re not forgotten at all but were merely hidden. And as you bend to pick them up and shove them inside, ONE MORE TIME, you realize this is like the millionth time you’ve done this and the simple act of touching these things again and hurrying to get them out of sight is absolutely draining.

Tears are landing in fat plops on that big failure of yours; the one where you think you let everyone down. And you feel sick to your stomach when you shove the memory of someone who unknowingly crushed your spirit back into the suitcase. What is it? A photograph? A note; the careless words used lightly, still weighing heavily on your heart? You’re not sure what it is, you can’t even see it because everything is a blur, but you can feel it in your hands. The pain is still very real. You give it a good crumple and thrust it back in the suitcase.

Your face is soaked and your heart is aching all over again as you shove all the garbage back where it belongs into the suitcase you plan to hide again. Only now, you can’t even close it.

Somehow, there’s more pain.

You fall to the floor in a heap and sob. You don’t know how to handle it anymore. There’s no one who sees all that you try to carry or all that you’re trying to hide. And now, it’s too full to close and too heavy to move.

Again, you hear some sort of sickening laughter.

Your head hurts and things are so blurry. The truth is even blurring. What was that you just thought a moment ago? No one sees you and all you’re trying to carry or hide?

That, my friend, is a lie. And you know who the father of lies is, don’t you? The enemy is the one who finds joy in your pain and laughs when you’re down. (Don’t be surprised if you notice a bunch of rocks hidden among the contents of your suitcase…each one is a lie meant to weigh you down even more.)

If the enemy can keep you slumped over and discouraged over your past, he’s going to do it. If he can stop you from letting go and moving on, well, he’s going to do that too.

The truth is GOD SEES YOU. He knows all about your suitcase and every article down to the most minute stitch of material, every crinkle on the papers and photographs, and every word on every note you’ve tried to ball up and forget. (Yes, He sees those rocks too. He crushes those lies into a fine powder and brushes them aside, right down the gutter.)

You know, God is the One who gave you the suitcase. Not so you’d carry everything around or stop and open it to relive the moments that have hurt you, remembering past conversations that cut you, or those so-called failures of yours.

Actually, those “failures” have drawn you closer to God so can you really call them that?

God will help you hang on to those important things. Those things that shine with truth. Those things that have made you stronger and have helped you become the person God wants you to be.

God didn’t give you the suitcase so you’d stash it somewhere, but so you could pack up all of that stuff and hand it over to Him. He’s the One who can carry it all. He’s the One who wants to. For you.

That’s how much He loves you. And that’s how much He wants to free you so you can move on to live the abundant life He has for you.

Hand it over, my friend. All of it. And let go.

“When he [the devil] lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies.” (John 8:44c NIV.)

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:10 NIV.)

 “But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:13b-14 NIV.)

A Soaring Kite: Being Used by God

I remember landing a job with a tiny book publishing business many years ago. I was thrilled, believing it would give me more insight into the whole business of writing and publishing.

But my first day on the job was a real eye opener. I had a pickup truck and the two owners needed their only employee (that was me) to move some furniture from their office back to their house (they also lived together). And I was told this sort of thing would probably happen again.

I drove home that day feeling used. I wasn’t hired because I have a deep respect for writing and would take publishing books seriously.

I was hired because they needed someone with a truck to move their furniture.

Being used is an awful feeling. Your mind starts out in a hot air balloon, dreaming about the possibilities of an opportunity or relationship only to have reality come along like a prehistoric pterodactyl (okay, so that’s not reality but you get the point), shredding your balloon and sending you plummeting down into a forest of briars. You survive, of course, but you walk away bleeding and pretty banged up.

And you tell yourself it’s never going to happen again. You will not allow yourself to be taken advantage of again. You’ll pay more attention next time. You’ll think things through. You promise yourself to stay on the ground and avoid the hot air balloon ride of dreaming big about such-and-such or so-and-so.

So you take a seat on a rock overlooking a cliff and you watch as others begin to hike in all sorts of directions on rocky and grassy paths. And you shake your head as you notice others climbing aboard their hot air balloons. Maybe you even say a little prayer for them. After all, you know what it feels like to be used and how hard the fall hurts.

You decide you’d rather sit on this rock all day (all week, all year) and play it safe than risk something painful like that again.

But what if Someone wants to use you for something awesome? What if there is Someone who doesn’t want to hurt you but wants you to experience something greater than you can dream and lift you higher than any hot air balloon ride?

That Someone would be God.

He’s been teaching me something lately:  At the end of all of my dreams, all of my past and painful experiences, all of my let downs and past failures – at the place where all of those things collide with my total surrender, the throwing-my-hands-up-in-the-air and admitting, “I don’t know how to figure my life out or fix things or what I’m supposed to do, Lord” – in the middle of those things crashing together, God can make sense out of all of it and use it. And He can use me.

It’s like He can tie our broken past and experiences and use them like the tails on a kite. Those things we thought were a waste of time or too painful (or too embarrassing) to use and should be stashed somewhere are the very things He can use to keep us humble and draw us closer to Him. And they are the very things He can use to help us soar.

When God uses us like that, taking all of our messes and pain and lifting us up for His glory, there’s no telling what the view is going to be like. We may be clueless while we’re standing on the ground. But when we lift off and we know God is the One holding the kite string and He’s the One providing the wind, we learn what freedom feels like.

We don’t have to have all the answers. We don’t have to figure everything out. We don’t have to be afraid we’re going to get hurt again.

As the Holy Spirit moves us and flows in and around us, as He leads us and guides us and we let go of control (we’re not trying to grab the string away from Him), we can see that being used by God is actually a beautiful and exhilarating thing.

There’s no noise here. No distractions. We don’t worry about pleasing people or letting them down. We don’t look to them for approval anymore and we don’t stress over things we can’t control or figure out. And we don’t worry that God is going to hurt us.

You see, being used by God isn’t like being used by a person. With a person, he (or she) is going to want something from you without giving you much (if anything) in return. Sometimes he will take and take until you feel completely drained, hollowed out, and empty. But with God, He only asks for you to let go of the kite string and He gives you so much more:

Pure and lovely freedom to experience more of Him in ways and places you never even knew existed.

Don’t try to bury or ignore your past failures and don’t be afraid to surrender them to God and admit you can’t figure it all out or fix it. That’s the very place God wants to meet with you.

And that’s the sweet spot where He is going to use you and lift you to new heights, revealing one breathtaking view.

“Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.” (James 4:10 NIV.)

 

 

 

It Makes Perfect Sense to My Heart

Sometimes things don’t make sense to me. Why is snow falling on the delicate flowers in our yard and melting the moment those flakes land, before I can get a single photograph?

And why did God allow me to write about the pain Jesus endured on the cross, my own heart torn in two (read here), but not about the joy of Easter morning so my heart could overflow with joy?

Perhaps He wanted me to stay at the cross awhile longer, so I wouldn’t dismiss it after a day or two; to be still at His feet and really take in the gravity of Jesus’ actions that day. For me. And for you.

And really, only God knew about today; the snow falling on the timid flowers and the question I would ask. “When, Lord?” He knew my question before I asked and told me today it’s time to stand up from the foot of the cross.

I imagine lifting my hand from the rough wood, cherishing Jesus’ blood that soaked in to my own fingertips, and closing my hand; holding His sacrifice closer in a more profound way. I look upon His face once more and close my eyes, allowing the image to burn into my mind; so when I feel bouts of selfishness or discouragement, I will close my eyes and see Him and remember what He has done for me and how much He loves me.

It’s time, so I stand from the foot of the cross and remember Jesus had to be carried from it. I wipe the tears from my face and thank Him for the freedom I have to stand, and the life I have here and now as well as eternal life.

Finally, I’m going to do what I’ve been desperately longing to do since I first knelt here: I’m going to run to the tomb.

I’m going to imagine running to the tomb like I’ve never run before because I want to be bathed in the light that glows brighter than the street of gold reflecting upon me. I’m going to run past every distraction, past all the things I need to do because this is where I need to be. And I’m going to stop at the entrance of the tomb, a place that should be dark, and I’m going to be thrilled at the sight of the empty tomb permeated with light. A light so pure and heavenly it cascades like water flowing over the rocks on the ground, washing over me.

And I’m going to stand in the light, letting it warm and heal all of my brokenness; the sensation of it dancing across my skin. I’m going to close my eyes and visit the image of my Savior on that cross. Not because I’m struggling with selfishness or discouragement, but because I don’t ever want to forget. And I want to be totally aware of the striking contrast of what I have seen and what I’m about to see:

I open my eyes and see Jesus Christ, my Jesus, standing before me in all of His radiance and glory. He is so tender and kind, and so mighty, and I realize He is smiling. I am in such awe that my Lord and Savior is actually smiling at me. His eyes reflect everything pure and lovely and holy. I struggle to stand in His presence, but He steadies me. We gaze upon each other as if we’ve known each other all along, as if there are hidden words we share when we look upon each other that belong solely to us. My heart tells me, it’s all true.

It doesn’t make sense why the Son of God should die for me. But it makes perfect sense to my heart: He loves me.

And He loves you.

Thank you, Jesus.

“When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, ‘I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.’” (John 8:12 NIV.)

“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.” (John 15:9 NIV.)

 “They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, ‘Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen!’” (Luke 24:2-6a NIV.)

 

 

 

A New Year and a New Road

I’ve got a problem. I live in the past too much.

There’s nothing wrong with turning around and looking back.  It’s like using the rearview mirror when you’re driving.  You need to look back to see what’s going on for safety reasons, just like it’s important to look back at your past to learn from your mistakes, to protect yourself from making the same blunders.

But what if you’re actually staring back, your eyes fixed or glued on all you’ve done wrong and you keep reliving your mistakes over and over again?  It can be just as detrimental as driving while fixating on the view behind you.  You’d miss your turn, swerve into a ditch, or possibly rear-end the vehicle ahead of you.  Having your eyes glued to the rearview mirror is like living in the past.  It’s a dangerous way to live.

Are you reliving some of your relationships from your past, how great they were and how things have drifted so far?   But the sad truth is those people you remember so fondly don’t even know who you are anymore.  And really, you don’t know them either.  The whole thing can leave your heart aching for the past or harden it because the drifting has made you angry and you refuse to let something like that happen again.

Eventually, you start to drive faster to escape it all but you still keep looking back and you miss what’s right there in front of you, some wonderful blessing God has for you.

I went to God with all of this.  Like I said, I’ve got a problem with living in the past.  I remember things, people, and I ache for the way things used to be sometimes.  Do you know what God told me? Look for Me back there.

Really?  Why didn’t I think of that?  I started looking back specifically to search for God.  And He was there.  He was there when I was so depressed during junior high school, when I would sit on the top of this huge hill in our back yard and cry.  He had His arm around me.

He was there when I went off to college and thought drinking was a huge part of being there.  He was there protecting me, leading me back to my dorm room every time.

He was there when I was smiling at graduation, the sun skimming the top of the building and landing on my face.   His hands were warm on my cheeks as He kissed me on the forehead, only I didn’t know it was Him at that moment.  But I know now.

God was there when I met my husband, making my heart swell, and He was there in the hospital room when our daughter was born and she cried, strong and loud.  And again, He was with me in a hospital room years later when my Mom had a massive stroke, and again when my Dad had complications after quadruple bypass. He held me tighter than ever on those days, listening to my prayers, my tears, as I begged Him to help them.  And He did.  And He held me so gently, warmly when I stood at my Grandpa’s funeral in December years ago, and again in the warmer Missouri air at my Grandma’s gravesite in April.

So all the moments in my past when I really needed someone, God was there.  And yet, I see Him there by my side the countless times I’ve washed dishes or folded laundry, when I got up in the middle of the night all those times to give our daughter medicine, and every morning when I fixed coffee.  He’s always there when I look back, at every memory.

But I can’t live back there because the bad finds a way of mixing in with the good, and that’s where the pain can take hold and sprout into something ugly and harmful.  It’s time to take hold of those memories I have of God and all the good, the lasting relationships He’s brought into my life, and bring them with me as I look forward; like snapshots I can tape to the dashboard.

A new year is coming and I love the idea of new; a clean slate, endless possibilities on the horizon as I drive forward on this new road.  I can still glance back and remember the lessons I’ve learned from my mistakes, but it’s time to let my failures go, leave them in the dust, let them fade.

I’ve asked God to forgive me for all those things I’ve messed up and He has.  So now it’s time to drive, to put the windows down and feel the freedom rush over me.  No more regrets.  No more guilt.  No more shame.  Now it’s just the touch of God on my heart as He tells me which way to go.

And with His direction, my friends, we won’t miss our turn.

“But one thing I do:  Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”  (Philippians 3:13b-14 NIV.)

 

 

 

God is in the Renovation Business

God is in the renovation business. But you have to do your part.

You have to ask Him for help.

You have to surrender to God, tell Him you need Him to move in your life even more powerfully, that you want to go deeper with Him, that you hunger and crave more of Him in your life, and you refuse to settle for where you are right now. You want more.  And to have more of Him, you know He needs to renovate you.

So you bravely ask Him to reveal the weak areas in your life, those hidden places you’ve been too busy to notice. You ask Him to be the silversmith that heats the silver, revealing the dross, those impurities in your heart, so He can scrape them off and toss them out of your life.

But before He removes them, He lets you see them. All of your bitterness and anger surface and sit there like ugly black chunks beside the bright, hot metal.  God allows you to get a good look at it, to really see it for what it is.

You get more and more uncomfortable the longer He allows it to stay. You want it gone.  You want God to hurry up and dispose of it because it’s painful to see.

He allows it to linger just long enough. This isn’t to hurt you, but to give you the opportunity to see what you’ve kept hidden and what it was doing to you.  You realize, this is a lesson from your Teacher.  You hear Him whisper, “That anger is like a disease in your spirit.”  And when you think about it, you realize it started as a small speck but because you failed to deal with it, it spread like some sort of gangrene, devouring the goodness and purity surrounding it.

And you can’t help but notice the striking contrast:  His blinding, powerful light against the darkness of your hidden sin.

But again, you asked God to draw you closer to Him. This isn’t a task to simply point out your flaws but to point out your need for Him.  He’s the only One who can remove such agonizing and toxic things from your life.

So you take a deep breath, acknowledge what you see and ask for forgiveness and for help. And then you let go.  You let go of the time someone hurt you, the moment you were abandoned, discarded, forgotten, and labeled.  It’s done ugly things to you and holding on isn’t bringing you power over the situation; it’s trapping you in the moment and keeping you a prisoner as the disease spreads and consumes more and more of you.

But again, God is in the renovation business; taking the old, worn, and broken and making it new.

So you focus on Him. You imagine His mighty hand removing all the poison, refining you.  Perhaps you hit your knees, completely falling apart knowing He is about to rebuild.  Or maybe you stand taller, tears streaming down your cheeks as you close your eyes and lift your face heavenward, knowing He is watching you… and smiling.

His renovation has brought you not only closer to Him, but to something He offers:

Freedom.

The ugliness no longer has a hold on you. The memory no longer traps you.  The guilt and shame no longer suffocate your joy.

You are free to walk even closer to God. It’s where He’s wanted you all along.

“For you, O God, tested us; you refined us like silver.” (Psalm 66:10 NIV.)

 

A New Year and a New Road

I’ve got a problem. I live in the past too much.

There’s nothing wrong with turning around and looking back.  It’s like using the rearview mirror when you’re driving.  You need to look back to see what’s going on for safety reasons, just like it’s important to look back at your past to learn from your mistakes, to protect yourself from making the same blunders.

But what if you’re actually staring back, your eyes fixed or glued on all you’ve done wrong and you keep reliving your mistakes over and over again?  It can be just as detrimental as driving while fixating on the view behind you.  You’d miss your turn, swerve into a ditch, or possibly rear-end the vehicle ahead of you.  Having your eyes glued to the rearview mirror is like living in the past.  It’s a dangerous way to live.

Are you reliving some of your relationships from your past, how great they were and how things have drifted so far?   But the sad truth is those people you remember so fondly don’t even know who you are anymore.  And really, you don’t know them either.  The whole thing can leave your heart aching for the past or harden it because the drifting has made you angry and you refuse to let something like that happen again.

Eventually, you start to drive faster to escape it all but you still keep looking back and you miss what’s right there in front of you, some wonderful blessing God has for you.

I went to God with all of this.  Like I said, I’ve got a problem with living in the past.  I remember things, people, and I ache for the way things used to be sometimes.  Do you know what God told me? Look for Me back there.

Really?  Why didn’t I think of that?  I started looking back specifically to search for God.  And He was there.  He was there when I was so depressed during junior high school, when I would sit on the top of this huge hill in our back yard and cry.  He had His arm around me.

He was there when I went off to college and thought drinking was a huge part of being there.  He was there protecting me, leading me back to my dorm room every time.

He was there when I was smiling at graduation, the sun skimming the top of the building and landing on my face.   His hands were warm on my cheeks as He kissed me on the forehead, only I didn’t know it was Him at that moment.  But I know now.

God was there when I met my husband, making my heart swell, and He was there in the hospital room when our daughter was born and she cried, strong and loud.  And again, He was with me in a hospital room years later when my Mom had a massive stroke, and again when my Dad had complications after quadruple bypass. He held me tighter than ever on those days, listening to my prayers, my tears, as I begged Him to help them.  And He did.  And He held me so gently, warmly when I stood at my Grandpa’s funeral in December years ago, and again in the warmer Missouri air at my Grandma’s gravesite in April.

So all the moments in my past when I really needed someone, God was there.  And yet, I see Him there by my side the countless times I’ve washed dishes or folded laundry, when I got up in the middle of the night all those times to give our daughter medicine, and every morning when I fixed coffee.  He’s always there when I look back, at every memory.

But I can’t live back there because the bad finds a way of mixing in with the good, and that’s where the pain can take hold and sprout into something ugly and harmful.  It’s time to take hold of those memories I have of God and all the good, the lasting relationships He’s brought into my life, and bring them with me as I look forward; like snapshots I can tape to the dashboard.

A new year is coming and I love the idea of new; a clean slate, endless possibilities on the horizon as I drive forward on this new road.  I can still glance back and remember the lessons I’ve learned from my mistakes, but it’s time to let my failures go, leave them in the dust, let them fade.

I’ve asked God to forgive me for all those things I’ve messed up and He has.  So now it’s time to drive, to put the windows down and feel the freedom rush over me.  No more regrets.  No more guilt.  No more shame.  Now it’s just the touch of God on my heart as He tells me which way to go.

And with His direction, my friends, we won’t miss our turn.

“But one thing I do:  Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”  (Philippians 3:13b-14 NIV.)