I used to approach blogging with a barrage of revelation. Faithful followers flooded my inbox with encouragement, and I relished it, because I've always loved people, and I also love to write. Win, win.
Lately, however, blogging has not come easily.
For a long time, I felt I had the most to offer when I was comfortable, when there was no mystery in my life, when I felt ahead of the curb, living up to my potential. Then, the blogs poured forth, “How to find joy in hardship,” or whatever. In the last year, everything I’ve written has seemed too dark to share. Or, I focus on fiction, on the lonely little girl who becomes a woman and needs to find herself. This feels simpler than sitting in the presence of God and letting him highlight the triggers in my life.
I suppose I decided to write now, to skip the fiction, skip the nap and drink coffee, because there actually is a message in process. Although it isn't gift-wrapped and pretty, it is real, and I'm convinced honesty holds far greater value than any well-meaning fluff. But, going forward, please acknowledge the preface that the more I know about myself and God, the more I know nothing at all. Still there? Okay.
For weeks I have been hearing the phrase, “All the places in my heart that God cannot occupy.” Over and over. The places in my heart that God cannot occupy. Hmm. Hmm. Hmm.
I’ve sat on this wording, letting it swirl in my brain.
Then, he gave me a visual. He was standing at a door, knocking. Knock. Knock. Knock.
I realized there were places in my heart totally closed off to God. No one is home. The lights are off. We can’t go there.
Nevertheless, Knock, knock, knock.
Now one thing I do know about God is that He is a gentleman, and what I mean by that is He created free will, and you can tell Him to mosey along from the closed doors and He’ll get the message. But, I’m a very stubborn child, and technically I invited Him. For years He has approached me in the quiet moments before I sleep,
“Summer, what do you want?”
If you’ve never heard His voice, let me tell you, it is the kindest, most piercing sound. It reverberates within.
I want to be free. Totally free. I never stop asking for this. If He does nothing else in my life, I want to be free.
So, He knocks. Knock, knock, knock.
His voice is endlessly kind, but that knock is like a sledgehammer on slate. It’s the sound of shattering. I want to scream, “Go away!” Sometimes I do. He backs off for days, weeks sometimes, but then He’s back. Knock, knock, knock.
Finally, I let him through a door. What that means is, I close my eyes, worship Him, enter that “secret place” in prayer, and give Him permission to show me a corner of my heart that He cannot occupy. It’s that simple and agonizing, and not really something that can be done any ‘ole day.
So, weeks ago, Him and I went through this and I was very excited to make some progress on my emotional health because I’d been purposely drowning out the sound of His knocks for quite some time. We took it one door at a time. Sometimes there is a traumatizing memory, maybe an addiction or a lie. The point is, GOD HAS TO SEE OUR MESS. As we entered these once barred places, I felt my heart grow lighter. I exchanged my heavy yoke for His lighter one. I held His hand, like, “We’re on a roll, let’s get this taken care of!” To be honest, I’m very much a “git’er done” personality. I would have made a decent genie, should they exist. Snap. There’s the outcome I want.
Nope, that’s definitely not the Kingdom.
After my pride was particularly bloated at my obedience to open the doors, I was not at all hung up on the twenty-foot gate with fifty locks on it. Once again, I am standing with God, hearing His voice, and He shows me this picture of the gate.
I’m like, “Awesome. Go ahead and take that down.”
Then, the kindness of His voice, “Summer, I will never let you skip process.” Then, he showed me a key ring with all of the keys. “One key at a time,” He says.
I want you to imagine me laughing maniacally, thinking, do you hate me, Jesus? But like the gung-ho person I am, I walked up to the gate and shook it like a crazy person.
“Some walls don’t come down by force, Summer.”
Some walls don’t come down by force. Of course, not. Way too simple. More maniacal laughter.
Did you know that some walls do not come down by force? Humans like to feel in control. After all, we are very powerful beings, made in the image of an all-powerful God. But, we are not in control. Only the King is.
“Can I just have one key?” I begged Him, because I needed a shred of hope in this moment.
He gave me a key and across the long part it said, Compassion. I was like, “Huh?” Because, if you know me, I am compassionate to a fault. [Want all my money? Awesome, here you go.]
"COMPASSION?"
“Compassion for yourself.”
Sure enough, the key opened the first lock, and I have 49 to go, one key at a time, in process.
Why am I sharing this? So that my friends will think I am a crazy person? A new-aged hippie talking to the God of the Universe?
Here is why: Because I meet so many people- friends and strangers- and their hearts are crying out to know if God is real. They’ve been served the black and white letter, can quote it backwards and forwards. They’ve been to church a thousand times. But, they want to know if God is REAL. If He loves them? If He is present? If they are truly saved?
Back when I blogged regularly, when I had so much to say on parenting and life and faith, there were times I questioned God’s love. Deep in my heart I expected Him to give up on me. I didn't like myself very much. I had some easy answers, but I was terrified of the process of sanctification.
I feel I’ve done a 180 now.
In fact, though I feel like a big, heaping mess of a human....I love myself, and I am totally committed to my process with God.
More recently, I was asked to participate in a prayer meeting because we’re in ministry and I live to see others get breakthrough. I had my own room and there were lines of people outside the door, waiting for prayer, FROM ME. The good news is- the God news is (har-har)- when I submit to Him, He does the hard work. I’m just a vessel. That being said, I found myself alone with several different men.
Nothing weird. Nothing dangerous. The room had windows and the door was cracked open. No big deal? But, it was a big deal, because I’ve been scared of men for most of my life. The entire prayer time I was literally nauseous. I began crying out to God, from the deepest parts of my heart, “I want to be free. This hurts. I want to be free.” Every time I invite God into these painful places, it deepens our relationship, and I become more and more convinced He will totally heal my heart.
My point is, I don’t question God. Not for a moment. I am so convinced of His love for me, I would die for that truth. I would die for love. I am dying for love, every day I am laying my life down to know Him and be known by Him. At the center of the gospel is an invitation to give up your life. To be re-born.
Have you ever attended a birth? I’ve attended five and they were each uniquely intense and messier than you can imagine. Like, I’ve seen all the professional pictures and still, no one can convince me that birth is romantic. It’s just not. It’s disgusting. That’s how I think about processing with God -the guts and the blood and pain- and He’s like, “I’m making you new.” You’re the clay in His hand. It’s messy, I’m telling you. However, if I could offer parting wisdom, from one broken vessel to another, don’t neglect the process of tending your heart. A book I read recently on grief put it best, “Feeling is healing.” And, the number one key to engaging process with God is to feel in His presence. Worship Him in the place you feel rejected. Trust Him in the place you feel abandoned. Invite Him into the darkest corner of your heart, where no one else is allowed. He is faithful to meet you there. Ask him to start knocking on the doors you’ve closed to everyone else.
Next key:
You can't fix your process. I've been to many counselors over the years, all well-meaning and I clung to their wisdom like a lifeline. Even though much of it was sincere, it hasn't all been helpful. I wish someone would have told me about process, that God was emptying me, sharpening me, that the key I needed was to TRUST Him in a deeper, more tangible way. I needed to trust Him with my children, my husband, and the continued uncertainty in my life. You can ignore process, escape from the discomfort of it, whatever....but you can't "fix" away the work God wants to do. Force won't work. He's looking for a son or daughter that is fully surrendered to Him, and He doesn't fix anything, He restores.
And, here is the final key.
He is good. He really is. That is really the propeller of the process, His goodness. He’s teaching us to trust Him. So, even though the process can be painful...building character, growing patience, strengthening faith and all (someone groan with me, here), it is for our good, for His glory.
