I was one of those stereotypical "church kids." I grew up in
church, was "saved" as a young child, went to church with the majority
of my extended family even. Most of my memories of middle school and
high school consist of wholesome youth group shenanigans. I could sing
to you a thousand camp songs and provide the goofy dances that go along
with them. I went on missions trips and led bible studies with my
friends, because Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night just
weren't enough. I was blessed to be surrounded by positive role models.
But then.
In
2009, I went through my first heartbreak. I experienced my first
radical loss and I didn't know how to deal with it. I encountered a
series of panic attacks and something the doctors called a "mini
stroke" as a direct result. I was hurt and I was mad and didn't want to even deal with it
emotionally at all. I began over-scheduling my life and doing everything
in my power to stay preoccupied. At one point I was taking classes at
three different colleges, while working 30 hours a week, and still
spending several nights out with friends. I graduated undergrad in three
years, even though I ended up having to transfer around a few times
when plans fell through yet again. It was busy and it was stressful. But
at least I didn't have to finish my grieving. I didn't even have to
acknowledge it as grieving. I could just focus all of my attention on
things like school and work and friends, and then the rest wouldn't even
bother me.
I was
upset with God for taking away what I felt I deserved. I figured my
being a good kid and doing all of those good works must not have
mattered if I could still experience such pain. So I stopped trying so
hard. I made new friends and welcomed "less than Christian" experiences. I let God be God, but at a distance from me.
I went on living like this for another FIVE years.
I
let myself become separated from God. I still attended church regularly
throughout that entire time and would've even called myself a
Christian. But there was a physical, mental, and emotional separation
between me and Him. In my eyes, I had messed up, and therefore my future
was indefinitely changed. I couldn't be a "perfect" or even a "good"
Christian anymore because of my imperfect decisions.
Around
this time last year, I was having a rough time. My decisions were reaching their breaking point and God said "enough." I was getting in
painful, deep-cutting, knock down, drag out, angry verbal arguments on a daily basis. I
was dreading each day. I was coming home from work and zoning out into
endless Netflix or Minecraft marathons so I didn't have to feel the
weight of my situation. I remember realizing the death of the situation I
had put myself in and praying to God to help me through it. I remember
thinking that I wanted a fresh start but feeling as though that were no
longer an option for me. I thought that because of my past mistakes, I
must deserve this. I realized I wasn't living the way I wanted to, but
felt as if there was no way to fix it. I was just stuck.
One
late night, through tears and frustration, and not knowing how to deal,
I decided to draw. I didn't know what I wanted to draw, but I started
doing it anyways. This was the result:
I thought nothing of it, really. It was just a picture. After I got it out of my system I was able to find rest for the night and went to sleep. I forgot about it entirely until a few months ago when I was showing some of my artwork to my boyfriend. I showed him some of the ones I was proud of but he stopped me when he saw this one. Not having yet known all the details of my past, he had no idea the circumstances surrounding its creation, yet he said it reminded him of "hope."
You know when you are dying. You know when you are in a bad place and want to feel life again. Whether this is spiritual, physical, mental, emotional, or an epic mix of them all, you know. When you are in a place of death, you may feel as if there is no hope left. But there is. And a part of you knows that. I had no intention to create an image depicting hope. I had just felt such inner turmoil and wanted to relieve some of that in the only way I knew how. Yet even in my darkest times, my inner being knew there was still hope. God had never once left me. Even when you feel like there is no hope, there is hope.
You know when you are dying. You know when you are in a bad place and want to feel life again. Whether this is spiritual, physical, mental, emotional, or an epic mix of them all, you know. When you are in a place of death, you may feel as if there is no hope left. But there is. And a part of you knows that. I had no intention to create an image depicting hope. I had just felt such inner turmoil and wanted to relieve some of that in the only way I knew how. Yet even in my darkest times, my inner being knew there was still hope. God had never once left me. Even when you feel like there is no hope, there is hope.
Fast forward to today.
Here
I am, writing to you about my past and my hopelessness. Expressing some
very deep, emotional truths from my inner being. Can I tell you that
this was not even fathomable in my mind a year ago? I was a very closed
off individual. I had my things and they were mine. I didn't want to
share my imperfections because then people would see me as flawed. Yet here I am. After I wrote out my last post, I had a friend thank me for being so "open and honest." It took me a minute to understand what she was talking about until I went back and realized that I had been extremely open and honest in that post. This is just me. I see no point in censoring anymore. If I can help you with my transparency, that is just awesome. I don't need to be perfect. I find joy in sharing my flaws and the truths that God speaks through them. That hope that God so graciously gives to each
of us completely takes away the need for us to be perfect. God not only
accepts our mistakes but uses them for His good. He takes our broken
pieces and shines through them in a way only He could. He is the potter, we are the clay. He made us the way we are on purpose (Isaiah 64:8).
Recently
I found this pin on Pinterest about a japanese art form called
"kintsukuroi" in which broken pottery is repaired with gold or silver
lacquer, treating the breakage and repair as part of the history of an
object, rather than something to disguise. They take the broken pieces
and repair them with gold, understanding the piece is more beautiful for
having been broken. Your cracks are part of your beauty.
One really cool example of this in the bible is the story of the woman at the well (John 4).
If you haven't heard the story, I will just give you a quick synopsis so that what I'm about to say makes sense. But I would also encourage you to just read it yourself because I'm not the bible.
Okay. So Jesus was traveling with his disciples when he came to a place called Samaria. He sat down by a well and was just hanging out until a woman came to get some water from that well. They had a conversation in which Jesus basically calls her out on all of her past mistakes, in a loving, yet all-knowing way. Instead of judging or reprimanding her, He tells her that he is the Messiah, and can provide her with everlasting water so that she will never be thirsty again. He says, "the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life" (verse 14). She leaves her water jar there and runs home to tell others what just happened.
Back story that makes this even cooler: Jesus was a Jew and this woman was a Samaritan. Jews did not associate themselves with Samaritans. But Jesus did. She was an outcast and looked down upon by her own people. She came alone to draw water from the community well when during biblical times drawing water and chatting at the well was the social highpoint of a woman’s day. However, this woman was ostracized and marked as immoral. He met her where she was. He was actively seeking her out. He didn't try to scold her for her past, but gives her hope. She could've just been like, "Okay, Jesus, cool, but that promise isn't for me." Instead she accepts this hope and runs home to spread the word. Now this is the part that connects to the rest of this post that I just recently noticed. This woman was a sinner. She had a past and it was obvious to those around her that she had a past. The Samaritans back home would've known this. So why would they believe her telling them about the holy Messiah? Do you typically believe the words of those you've deemed as unreliable or as "serious sinners"?
It was because she was so clearly changed. She became a spring of water to others. In verse 39, it says, "Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in Him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I ever did.”" She didn't keep her mistakes to herself, but used her own story to let others know of His grace and truth. Your "cracks" are a part of your story of hope! They make you, you. But you have to let God piece you back together. There has to be willingness. There has to be change. Trust me, I know it is so much easier in the short term to just stay. You become complacent and change is hard. The woman at the well could've just taken God's words for herself. But she didn't. She immediately went and shared this radical revelation, not caring about the possibility of others judging her.
Okay. So Jesus was traveling with his disciples when he came to a place called Samaria. He sat down by a well and was just hanging out until a woman came to get some water from that well. They had a conversation in which Jesus basically calls her out on all of her past mistakes, in a loving, yet all-knowing way. Instead of judging or reprimanding her, He tells her that he is the Messiah, and can provide her with everlasting water so that she will never be thirsty again. He says, "the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life" (verse 14). She leaves her water jar there and runs home to tell others what just happened.
Back story that makes this even cooler: Jesus was a Jew and this woman was a Samaritan. Jews did not associate themselves with Samaritans. But Jesus did. She was an outcast and looked down upon by her own people. She came alone to draw water from the community well when during biblical times drawing water and chatting at the well was the social highpoint of a woman’s day. However, this woman was ostracized and marked as immoral. He met her where she was. He was actively seeking her out. He didn't try to scold her for her past, but gives her hope. She could've just been like, "Okay, Jesus, cool, but that promise isn't for me." Instead she accepts this hope and runs home to spread the word. Now this is the part that connects to the rest of this post that I just recently noticed. This woman was a sinner. She had a past and it was obvious to those around her that she had a past. The Samaritans back home would've known this. So why would they believe her telling them about the holy Messiah? Do you typically believe the words of those you've deemed as unreliable or as "serious sinners"?
It was because she was so clearly changed. She became a spring of water to others. In verse 39, it says, "Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in Him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I ever did.”" She didn't keep her mistakes to herself, but used her own story to let others know of His grace and truth. Your "cracks" are a part of your story of hope! They make you, you. But you have to let God piece you back together. There has to be willingness. There has to be change. Trust me, I know it is so much easier in the short term to just stay. You become complacent and change is hard. The woman at the well could've just taken God's words for herself. But she didn't. She immediately went and shared this radical revelation, not caring about the possibility of others judging her.
In
a less epic, but similar way, it is because of my past mistakes, sins,
and struggles that I am who I am today. That's not a bad thing, it is a
beautiful thing. I can guarantee that I, personally, wouldn't have been able to
connect with the same people I can today had I lived my perfect "church
kid" life. I couldn't speak of pain, heartbreak, hope, or grace in the
same way I can today. But I had to make a change. I had to accept God's living water. I had to be willing to let Him change me. Even when that requires an insane amount of trust. Even when it is really, really hard. Even when I don't understand it right away. Even when others might judge me.
There is hope. You are worthy. You are beautiful. You are made new. But you have to be willing. You cannot hold onto your past and expect for a future as beautiful as the one God wants to give you.
____
Fun side note:
As I was writing this post, God was also speaking, independently, in the heart of my best friend and boyfriend about this same topic. He showed me what he was working on the other night and my immediate reaction was shock and amusement. His newest blog post clearly parallels this one in my mind, so I asked permission to share with you. In fact, as I've been prepping this message and going through some stuff the past few days, I've been blessed to have those words confirming God's presence. Jack is one of the most Godly, kind hearted, loving people I know and has his own blog over here: http://imaginethecolors.blogspot.com/2015/03/what-are-you-waiting-for.html
____
Fun side note:
As I was writing this post, God was also speaking, independently, in the heart of my best friend and boyfriend about this same topic. He showed me what he was working on the other night and my immediate reaction was shock and amusement. His newest blog post clearly parallels this one in my mind, so I asked permission to share with you. In fact, as I've been prepping this message and going through some stuff the past few days, I've been blessed to have those words confirming God's presence. Jack is one of the most Godly, kind hearted, loving people I know and has his own blog over here: http://imaginethecolors.blogspot.com/2015/03/what-are-you-waiting-for.html
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