On that 14th day in November 2011, I was miserably surviving a divorce I never planned for, one in fact I believed I had taken direct measures to avoid. I had held fast to the injuries from church people and certain so-called Christian friends and family members, believing that if I forgot details of the pain, I would again become a victim of injustice- as I saw it. Anger and resentment were the makeup of my armor and I was well protected. Eventually, a few faithful friends who happened also to represent this God I no longer believed, soothed their way into my life, earning my ear and proving their love, cushioning my free-fall into dark emotional places.
Eventually, I relented to their loving pursuit and infectious hope; I attended church again, and even more reluctantly, a Sunday School class. If you're interested in any of that process, you're welcome to peruse some of those raw and pain-filled days here.
Moving past all of that original distrust and fear, to take hold of what is true, I began to trust Jesus as "healer", as he claimed to be throughout the Gospels, as well as God, the rescuing Father, who was capable of parting the Red Seas of my life experience. Early in 2013 God began to wake me up to pray for specific things. Some of those specifics were easy to understand and I was quick to literally leave my bed and press my face to the floor in earnest pleading for forgiveness or mercy or wisdom... Others of those specifics were harder to understand, like the day in early May when I met a young teenager named Abbigail and her two year old brother, Ezekiel, after a concert at church. I knew absolutely nothing about them, but that night and for several nights after, God woke me up to pray for her. Just her. Pray what? I didn't know, I just knew that she was deeply loved and I thanked God for that and begged Him for clarity as to why I could't shake her sad eyes from my mind.
As the story goes, before the end of summer, Abbigail and Ezekiel and their sister, Rose, would become my bonus children and I had made a vow to God about them as serious as the vow I made about their dad "...in sickness and in health...'till death do us part". (I wrote about their dad here shortly after our engagement.)
This is where the public blogging of my life and spiritual process of growth has become a complicated issue. The fears, new levels of distrust, hopes, massive depths of personal failures (and a few hard won victories) and leaps-and-bounds growth in me are not only my story to tell anymore; they are deeply immeshed in the personal experiences of six kids and a husband who are all trying to make sense of shattered places in their own hearts. So I hush, all the while knowing the story isn't over and it will get told... when the time is right for everyone.
So these threads of God's theme for my life have woven to this day. The lessons of 2011, 2012, 2013... all the way to my last public post just over a year ago, continue to be relevant. I may be a slow learner, but it also occurs to me that some works of art require repeated strokes of the same brush, the same color, the same direction, to perfect the canvas. It also occurs to me that for these six years, and longer, Jesus has been faithful to continue the work he started in me the day I promised to give my heart and life away to him, sitting in my flannel nightgown, tracing the green carpet patterns of our family living room with my tiny finger, 36 years ago. Patient, excruciatingly so it seems, is this purifying God I serve...
Again, there was no sleep last night. After a few years of nocturnal silence, He has started to wake me up again to pray. This time my thoughts turned in the early morning, to praying for my husband, it's praise mostly that I whispered in the dark. Those who are close to our story, or on the fringes especially, will doubt my words maybe. The marriage, to be blunt, hasn't all been "happily ever after" with rainbows and glitter, like Facebook and Instagram may portray...
BUT
God is faithful. Jesus heals. God parts VAST Red Sea impossibilities in real lives, today. Jesus heals, from the deepest and darkest of wounds to the slightest of scratches. There is always hope.
As the fourth year of our partnership comes to a close. I am reminded of the words of my trusted friend and counselor, Benjamin, long before that early May day in 2013. He had asked me if I knew what certain numbers in the bible signified. I knew (and still know) nothing, really. He told me that somewhere he had heard the number four had signified the "end of flesh" in the Old Testament. The number four meant nothing to me at the time and that conversation held no significance and made no sense to me for months...Obviously, I'm no theologian or bible scholar, I cannot verify his claim about the number or the concept. However, as the fourth wife, when the fourth year of our marriage started as "fleshy" as ever, his word again rang clearly in my mind. I whole-heartedly prayed for God to show me what "end of flesh" is supposed to look like, not in concept, but in real-life living. What is this key that unlocks joy in the midst of suffering, loss, sorrow, fear and oppression- to live miraculously unscathed at war amidst spiritual wickedness in unseen places?
And so, He has been faithful.
My precious husband is a rock. He is obedient and protective. He is intelligent and strong. He is compassionate and deep. He never quits. He is growing in discernment and understanding. He is being healed and leaving room for me to be healed. He is learning to be a servant leader and a tender teacher. The Lord honors that in marriage, in life. We've been sandpapered together until we are softer, quieter, humbler, sweeter. We've lost everything we thought we wanted, and gained things we never knew were available to wretches like us. There is, in return, a quiet acceptance of our fleshy flaws and a overflowing of praise for His continued faithful presence in the dark places. Maybe praise and thanksgiving, despite our circumstances, are the keys we seek. Quite possibly, I am starting to see the "end of flesh"...
Thank God for fourths.
August 11, 2017 Beartooth Pass, MT
Our Fourth Anniversary
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