(If you are new to this blog you may wish to read Part I of this story, just scroll down to locate it)
Speaking of boxes, remember the one filled with hatred
towards him? I came across another
box recently…oh, how God cleans out one’s heart that has relented to Him. But
this box is different, I’m not even certain when it was created, in fact I didn't even know it existed within me. Perhaps it was delivered to me by the
evil one, probably when I wasn't keeping proper watch over my heart? I’m so sorry LORD that I did this to You for
so long.
I had unknowingly placed my Rescuer in a box, limiting what
He could do. Not limited entirely, for
my Father is boundless. He is the beginning and the end, my Savior, no one can
box Him in. Although one can box up what is expected of Him. In my prayers I
tell Him what I need, as if the One who
created me wouldn't know my deepest desires. I beg Him to just move in my
life and I am surprised, if not taken back, by tragic events? Was Jesus’ death
on a cross not tragic? Just as I have been wondering what in the world my Lord
is up to, don’t you think the disciples wondered the same as they stared at
Jesus suspended from the cross? Why such brokenness, why so much bloodshed? His
redemptive plan had to be as such for His people had hardened their hearts
toward Him, just as I had. I
foolishly believed the devil’s lies, that I could hate him and still love my God. That I could choose to not forgive him even after my Savior willingly laid
down His life so I could live forgiven.
Oh, the deception!
This him I spoke
about forgiving was really just a boy
when my heart broke from what I thought were unforgivable acts. Even though I
forgave him only a few days following
my accident the painful event was still burned into my memory from 14 years
before. What does a person do with memories that pop back into front and center
even when you don’t want them to? I think one of the worst tortures of life is
having to relive painful events over and over, powerless to make them stop
invading new moments. A certain name is mentioned or a familiar smell and it
can all come rushing back. What then? Where is the power and freedom of
forgiveness in that?
Well, for me, there wasn’t proper freedom and I would
suppose it would be much the same for others. But all hope is not lost, not
with Christ in the picture. My God is so good, He didn’t lead me to forgive to
be left torn open, no, His grace is
sufficient (2 Corinthians 12:9). Christ desires to be in on every moment,
every memory, after all it is purely about Him. In His love and mercy, He
gently led me to a safe place with Him. Ideally I would have let Him do this
years ago and saved myself so much heartache but my hesitancy was overcome by a
wonderful mentor that helped lead me back to my Father. She calls it going to
your safe place with Jesus. The best
way to describe it is when I relax my mind, pray to Jesus and ask Him to meet
with me, I always find myself with Him in a field. I close my eyes and slowly
the picture comes into focus in my mind, but it took practice, which is what I had
been doing this past summer before my accident. While reading this some of you
may be saying, wow that is a great
imagination you have there…visualizing yourself somewhere else, sounds a bit
like a relaxation exercise. And, honestly it felt a bit like that at first.
To some, this may be really difficult to grasp, but I believe we are all
created in His image, so my creative mind is also a reflection of His
creativity. Remember that box I’ve been trying to remove from around my God? I
am choosing not to limit Him and His work in me.
So this field I go to with my Savior feels safe. The sun
shines warm and a breeze moves the grass. In the distance I see mountains, and
there is no worry that anyone else will arrive, its just Jesus and me. A few
weeks ago, my mentor suggested it was time to let Jesus into those painful
memories with him. I knew I was going
to be with Him with the intent of inviting Him into my painful place, but I was
scared. I had been avoiding this moment for years. The days previous I had
begged Him not to let me see it all again, for fear it would tear my heart
apart.
We prayed and then I closed my eyes and was with Jesus. My
mentor asked me what it looked like and I described the familiar place, only
this time a storm was rolling in. Dark, luminous clouds were quickly
approaching and the warmth from the sun was absent. This had never happened to
me before and it felt strange. Fear crept in and my voice was shaking. Oddly
enough, Jesus did not feel absent, I had not been abandoned. My mentor
continued prayers of protection and then she asked me what I looked like in the
field. I looked down at myself and I told her I was covered in blood. More
prayers ensued and then she claimed in Jesus’ name over me for release from a
spirit of defilement. And then it began to rain, warm droplets of water from
Heaven. I looked down to see all the blood wash away, my bare feet covered in
streams of raindrops. All the words and prayers spoken during that time I don’t
recall, I just remember being washed clean with Jesus. My mentor asked me to
ask Jesus about the painful memories. This was hard to release even though I
was safe, I feared what I would remember, but God is good. No new memories
came, just the painfully familiar room, the place I couldn’t get away from
because he was stronger than me. My
mentor asked where Jesus was during the memory and I could see Him nearby. She
had me ask Jesus questions and I just remember Him telling me He only let it go
on for so long, there was a limit to the damage that could be done. And then I
asked Jesus if I could go home and beyond Him the room opened to our field.
Christ took my hand and led me out. We were home in our field and I had on a
perfectly white dress. Christ’s bride has been redeemed. Set free. And I was
happy so Jesus and I played in our field. Afterward, my mentor anointed me with
oil, the only one on hand was Spikenard oil. I asked her about the oil
specifically and she read me a verse:
Then took Mary a pound
of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of Jesus, and
wiped His feet with her hair: and the house was filled with the odor of the
ointment.
I loved how the verse spoke of Jesus’ feet since I had seen
my own feet washed clean when I was with Jesus. I asked her the scripture
reference. She replied that it was from John 12:3. Ah, yes, why wouldn’t God be
complete in His restoration of his daughter? The scripture for me was from the
book of John and his name was John.
Of course, God wants me to see His fingerprints all over my life. Now when
someone references from the book of John I no longer feel pain in my heart but
a reminder of Christ’s endless love for me. How cool is that? Oh, how my
Redeemer makes me smile….
Seeing glimpses of His heart for me,
Paula
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