By four, Jesus was accepted, by fourteen, I followed Him myself and not because my parents did. Through high school and a few years that followed, I had both times of passion for God and times of frustration. Because my experience was not extreme, going from one spectrum to another overnight, I have learned and grown in hard ways, sometimes needing the experiences themselves to be my teacher.
I have often thought that since I never really strayed away or went wildly rebellious that my story was not significant and that it didn't matter. But I talked to a friend last night, who's story is noteworthy by the way, and she told me, "We all experience different things, but that doesn't make what you went through less significant." I rolled that around my cerebrum, realizing that though my story may have similar aspects to another person, it is still mine to tell and mine uniquely.
There is not another person on earth who has walked exactly what I have walked. Though I had a safe and loving childhood, and though I knew the Lord throughout tumultuous times in my life, I am not exempt from pain. In fact, these late days have made me painfully and acutely aware of my shortcomings. I live on a continuum of sin by nature and sin by choice, and every single person on earth shares that with me, like it or not. However, in recent weeks, I have become profoundly amazed by the deep love that God lavishes, a gift I certainly do not deserve.
I am a tangled mess inside, wrecked by the all-surpassing sovereignty of God. Today, I just needed to quiet myself and rest in that fact. I closed my bedroom door, and kept the jumbled covers of my bed around me, enveloping me in warmth. I sat clicking keys while the corner lamp illuminated the room and my perspective was changed.
My story is the same but different, I have my own skeletons in the closet that I reveal to only a few people. It takes a long time to trust people with the things you try to hide even from yourself. But my eyes close in the understanding that the God of heaven knows me deeply, better than my husband, my mom, and my best friend. Though each have loved me through dark places, they will never understand the way I wrestle inside daily. And sometimes I see the love of God revealed to me even more when I seem to be the most unlovable.
"The Lord your God is in your midst, A victorious warrior. He will exult over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy." -- Zephaniah 3:17 (NASB)I was quietly chewing on this verse the other day and I was struck with a perspective I have never considered before. If He is a victorious warrior, that means there has been a battle that He fought and He has returned a conquerer, defeated the grim lines, and walked with the win. In history, often when this happened, warriors returning from the battlefield carried that dominion into homes and villages, seeking also to conquer those left behind. That was a reward for a long fight. But not so, not here. It says that, "He will exult over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love." To me, this is a beautiful picture of intimacy, not forced, not a power struggle. A song, a dance, a quiet love. And lately this is the love that I have experienced from the Father.
Yes, there may be things in my life that many do not agree with, sometimes I don't either, therein lies the rub. But instead of raking me over the coals, God has wooed me with His mercy and love. And I need it, oh how I need it. Relief is my feeling when the sun rises again and paints the horizon. New mercies, new strength to face the unknown, a deeper understanding to draw closer and be real with the creator of my heart. God has washed over me with a depth of grace that I have never before understood, leaving in His wake a vessel broken and wanting more.
~Brittany
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