Where I Started
Where I Am
“What a moment you brought me to. Such a freedom Lord, I have found in you. You’re the healer, who makes all things new. Yeah, Yeah, Yeaaaah. I’m not going back, I’m moving ahead. I’m here to declare to you, my past is over. In you, all things are made new. Surrender my life to Christ. I’m moving forward.”
“Moving Forward” Israel Houghton
“Moving Forward” has been my theme song throughout this whole process. It represented so much of what I was doing from being able to let go of that young man to being able to walk into this new season without going backwards. But “Moving Forward” started out being easier sung then done…
Last time we left off in this series with my turning my application in mere hours before it was due and all there was left to do was trust God and wait. Initially I was sitting pretty with the knowledge that there was nothing else left to do but wait. I couldn’t change anything, I just had to watch and wait. But as the days turned into weeks, I started to realize the serious implication of what I had just done. It didn’t hit me hard until one evening when I checked my mailbox and saw an envelope from the school. I pulled the envelope out of the mailbox as if I were wearing an ovenmitt and the envelope was a simmering tray of lasagna. It was the slow and steady pull that you do to make sure no sauces drop on the oven floor or, worse yet, you. I looked at the envelope and I saw my life flash before my eyes. I realized that right there in my hands, I held my future. My acceptance or denial would, either way, change the trajectory of my life and I wondered if I was ready for either response. Despite being a little afraid of the outcome, I ripped open the envelope only to find a letter thanking me for applying to the school and telling me that I can check my admission status at any time on the school’s web system. Whew! False alarm. But still, I knew that it was only a matter of time before I had to make some pretty major decisions.
Quite some time went by before I would hear anything else from the school. A part of me was hoping that I wouldn’t get in just so I wouldn’t have to uproot my life and so that I could continue doing business as usual. But life is never that simple. One day as I was tending to business as usual I saw that a voicemail had arrived on my cell phone. It was in the middle of the day, from a strange number and so I wondered to myself, “Who could this be?” I called my voicemail and listened to the message from a voice and a person unfamiliar to me but an institution that was. It was a representative from the school calling to congratulate me on being accepted into the program. I replayed the message about three times and then just sat there in a state of shock. Me. Going to seminary. Really?
Upon being accepted, I told very few people because I just couldn’t believe it nor did I know what I was going to do with that acceptance. Would I decline the acceptance, defer the acceptance or accept the acceptance? It felt like the choice was mine and not mine all at the same time because, after all, this is seminary we are talking about and while there are people who make the decision to go, there are others who are lead to go. Slowly but surely I was discovering that I was in the latter portion of people, not the former.
I went on the warpath with my prayers, not really accepting God’s silence as an answer and not settling for just a glimmer at the end of the tunnel but wanting a gigantic spotlight to show me where to go. I figured that if God, knitting me in my mother’s womb, knowing me before I was born, knows every little thing about me, surely He knows that He created me to be a creature of habit, security and certainty. I wasn’t absolutely comfortable with dropping everything and going back to school without being absolutely sure that this was not just a good choice, but a God choice. I was in extreme waffle territory. Not the breakfast food but the state of mind where one day you could ask me if I was going and I’d say yes, but maybe an hour later I might say no, and an hour after that I’d say maybe.
My first waffling had to do with that young man. Now, before anyone thinks this entire story revolves around him, it doesn’t. It only seems that way because I didn’t write this in a strictly chronological fashion. Had I written it that way, he might have been two strong paragraphs in one post as opposed to a paragraph per post. Nevertheless, he was my first waffle. It was in the midst of our better days when there still seemed to be hoped and I decided that maybe, just maybe, I could go to school where I was accepted and then a year later I could transfer to a school near him. I’m sure this is also where the straw broke the camel’s back because I know when we make plans God is known to laugh and I’m sure God was having a Def Comedy Jam in heaven watching me change the plans He had for me for a man He didn’t have for me. So, as I have said in every post of this series, the young man went away. But now, finally, we can see the denouement. God removed him for manifold reasons, some known to me, others not, but what I do know for sure is the moment when he was removed and I got over it, I was able to stop waffling about going back to school. With him out of the picture, I knew that school was in one place and one place alone. There were no transfers because God didn’t admit me into any other school but the school I got accepted to. Who am I to change His awesome plan?
With that out of the way, I figured it would be smooth sailing, but it wasn’t. Now it was time for the rubber to meet the road in terms of the logistics of getting to school. Particularly, how in the world was I going to afford it? I found out that the school was a private institution–something I didn’t know before I applied. (Yeah, I really just took a blind leap of faith.) I didn’t care whether the school was private or public when I applied, all I knew is this is where I felt lead to go. And so I had to become a squeaky wheel, haggling with the school financial aid folks, filling out the FAFSA forms, speaking to a bishop–actually his assistant–just doing anything to see if I could squeeze a few dollars out of the institution, out of the government or out of my denomination. The result of all of that was my getting a little grant and a loan so large that I harbored the great hope–and still do–that the rapture will come before I have to start paying the loans back. Despite all of this, I knew that I could never let money or my lack of it be a deterrent from starting school in the fall. Money never stopped anyone who felt sure in the natural that they should go to medical school or law school, so why should it stop me in the spiritual when I have received the call to go to seminary. Two waffles down, X to go. With the young man out of the way and the financial situation sort of rectified, one would think that I shouldn’t have had any problem with just boldly declaring that I was going. That was still far from the case. Now I had to deal with myself.
I’ve lived in New York for nearly eight years and in that eight years I never imagined that I would leave the city–despite the fact that I would say at least once a year that I am giving New York 7-10 years. But I just didn’t feel ready to leave yet. I had recently moved into a beautiful apartment with great views of Brooklyn. I felt like I was finally walking confidently in who I was in this city with great friends and the fact that any place I went I was bound to know at least 5-10 other people in the room. I felt like Norm from “Cheers”. Besides that, I had a really great church home, was involved in ministry there, had a great church family and just a lot of creature comforts I wasn’t sure I wanted to give up. Not to mention the job that ensured I could not only do something that I loved, but it ensured I kept the beautiful apartment roof over my head, kept tithing and offering, and kept the creature comforts I enjoyed so much. But knowing all of this, and even looking at the list right now, those are all things of the world, things that make life comfortable and I knew I wasn’t called to be comfortable. As I continued to discern my way through, God kept on revealing things to me about myself that answered the question of why now was the time for me to move and pursue His vocation on a more complete and full-time basis.
God revealed to me that He had given me most of what I wanted over my eight years in NY and the time preceding that in college. I wanted to go to school to study journalism, He let me do that. I wanted to move to NY to pursue a career in magazines for fashion and entertainment, He let me do that. I wanted to spend my money on whatever I wanted, He let me do that. I spent over a decade doing what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it, how I wanted to do it, why I wanted to do it, where I wanted to do it and with who I wanted to do it with and He let me do it. But how much longer could I survive on doing what I wanted to do? I wanted more out of life and I wasn’t going to find it unless I decided to put my trust in God and see where He wants to lead me. If I knew nothing else at this point in my life, I knew it was time for me to trust someone else besides myself and that person is God.
More of my “Nos” became “Yes” and I found myself opening more to the journey that God wanted to send me on. I started to read books that would help me to get up the courage and go. John Ortberg’s “If You Want to Walk On Water, You Have to Get Out of the Boat” was one of the most pivotal books that I read and it helped me stop looking at myself and start looking at Jesus and trust Him much more with my life. I was strengthened and encouraged by reading,
“God generally helps a person’s faith by asking them to take the first step.”
“There is a danger in getting out of the boat. But there is a danger in staying in it as well. If you live in the boat–whatever your boat happens to be–you will eventually die of boredom and stagnation.”
“You will never know God is trustworthy if you don’t risk obeying him.”
I knew that this was about giving my life over to God to make something more of it. It was about doing what God wanted me to do knowing that He had allowed me to do so much of I wanted to do. And so the process of moving forward continued. But every time I made a declaration that moving forward was what I knew I was supposed to do, something or someone would try to convince me otherwise. This time it was a close friend, who after I told him that I was going, shared with me that he didn’t think it was the right move. He had a gut feeling that it wasn’t the right move for me to make and even if I did make it, I wouldn’t be there for long. His words hit me hard and I began to wonder if there wasn’t a bit of truth in them because earlier that day, a spiritual mentor of sorts, alluded to the fact that I might go but not be there for long. And so, the morning after those conversations, I took it to God in prayer and seriously petitioned for a sign that moving forward was His will.
After I arose from my prayer, I turned on a sermon CD I received the night before and I let it play while I was getting ready for work. The pastor was talking about Jesus and the young ruler who asked Him what must he do to be saved. Jesus told him he must sell everything and follow Him, to which the young ruler became despondent because He barely wanted to leave all of his creature comforts. And the pastor said,
“He could not leave what was secure, comfortable and nailed down and just walk away with Jesus. With human beings it is impossible to hand God everything. I know it sounds strange, but if you give yourself away to cause of God, if you give everything to God, you don’t have to chase happiness anymore, you are going to wake up one morning and be happy.”
At that moment I felt that God was speaking to me. That was the core of why I was uncertain about the move because I felt I had so much comfort and security here. It was time for me to let all of that go though. But that was just the first of His signs to me.
After that I continued to listen to the sermon on my iPod on my way into work and as I stood there listening on the 6 train, right as it pulled up into the station by my job, I randomly reached into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out a piece of paper. That piece of paper was a stub from my last flight to Atlanta. Besides evidence that I was wearing soiled jeans, I felt God speaking again about my destination. But He wasn’t done. Finally I got to my desk at work and I logged onto Facebook to see a new message waiting for me and that message was from a person I had met at the International Christian Retail Show years ago. We kept in touch on a sporadic basis so that he could keep me posted on his work and also so that we could see if there was opportunity for him to fit in on the site I worked for. But in his e-mail, he said some poignant things including asking about when I’ll start working on my book–I’ve never mentioned a book to him–but most importantly the last ‘graph in his e-mail said that if I was ever in his area, there are some people he’d love to introduce me to if it helps or just to say hi. At this I paused and my mouth dropped open because his area is the area where the school is, which I’ve never talked to him about. I knew God had to be speaking and speaking loudly and I heeded Him at this. But, just as made my declaration the enemy was ready to challenge me yet again. So though God moved the man, the financial barrier, and showed me signs that He wanted me in school, I still had one more barrier to entry, my job.
I strongly believe my job at Beliefnet is what set the foundation for my future, although while I was there I didn’t know. A million times I asked God, “Why am I here and when will I leave?” But He always had me to stay just a little bit longer. But as seminary came into view, the acceptance letter arrived, and other doors started to open, I wondered how and when to break the news and even if I should break the news because I had a very good thing going there. Maybe I should just stay. I was trusted with so much, beyond anything I could ever imagine, and I worked with some of the most talented, intelligent, funny, caring people you could ever find in an office. A part of me didn’t want to leave because it was a secure place. My job was stable, I had just gotten a promotion after waiting many years, everything seemed good, until it wasn’t.
This the part where I can’t say too much because it’s sort of legally prohibited, but I think that is just fine because I am sure you, dear reader, are in need of respite from all the starting and stopping, waffles, roadblocks and every other thing which has clogged my moving forward unrestrained. So to make a long story short–too late–my stable job became not so stable and just a few short weeks ago I was laid off. But don’t worry, this is a good thing because I finally feel that I know exactly what to do, thanks be to God. It was pure divine intervention. So with that, here is what this has all lead to…
I’m moving forward and that moving forward will find me in Atlanta, Georgia at Emory University’s Candler School of Theology to start work on my Master in Divinity. Does that mean I’ll be a preacher? I don’t know. Will I be a professor? I don’t know. But what I do know is this is what God wants me to do at this point in my life.
They say, “Everything happens for a reason.” I say, “All things work for the good of those who love the Lord and are CALLED according to His purpose.” Having gone through everything I’ve gone through to get to this very moment, I know that it all worked out for my good. I don’t regret a moment of my life this year. I don’t regret having met that young man and going through the things I did with him because it made me stronger and more open to the possibility of love. I don’t regret all the doubts I had because without the doubt I wouldn’t have received the evidence that this is God’s will. I don’t regret not even really having the money to go because in having empty hands I am now truly open to God’s provision. I also don’t regret being laid off because it is that moment that has allowed me to really get to the point of my entire life and that is that I have to trust God. And with that, I’m moving forward.
As I said I would in my last post, I am now sharing the personal essay I wrote for my application to seminary. I’ve always carefully guarded this information feeling that first it made me strange or weird, then I guarded it because I didn’t trust many with knowing about this very personal part of my life and now, finally, I recognize this as a story not for me to keep to myself but to share with as many who would read this so that some might be blessed.
Like many traditional families, my family has a gigantic keepsake Bible. I remember seeing it throughout my childhood and watching it go from completely composed, to falling to pieces. I used to look at that Bible every so often, not necessarily to read it, but just to flip through its large-print pages. But one day I felt compelled to start from the beginning of the Bible where the family milestones were documented. I read the recording of the family marriages, which were many, and then I turned to the page listing the family births, which were much fewer. There on the page of family births, in a list of five names, mine showed up third and read as follows, “Nicole was born to adopted by _________ and ________ born on December 26, 1980.” I nearly dropped the massive Bible when I read those words. “Adopted?” I said to myself. I immediately ran into the kitchen and interrupted my mom, who at the moment was preparing breakfast. With tears in my eyes, I said, “Why didn’t you tell me I was adopted? How could you just let me read it in a book without telling me yourself?” With tears in her eyes, she said, “I was going to tell you, but I wanted to wait for the right time.”
Right then and there became the right time for her to tell me:
My biological mother, a teenager about the age of 16, who conceived me in a chance meeting with a military man at a party, gave me up for adoption on the day of my birth. I would go from this young woman’s arms to the foster care system for about six months while various couples in search of the perfect little girl would come in and out of my life. My adoptive parents were initially offered twin girls, but it fell through when it was discovered that the parents of those children lied on their application. My parents discovered me in my seventh month of foster care. My mother told me that when her and my father came to see me, I ran directly to them as if I already knew that they were to be my parents, and that was enough for them. What they saw was a child, who despite her circumstances, had love in her heart and desired to be loved. My parents adopted me when I was eight months old and went forward with giving me the life that I could only be given by the grace of God.
I didn’t think that finding out about my adoption would change my life—since I didn’t know about it in the first place—but it did. Finding out that I was adopted brought with it many questions. “Why didn’t my biological mother want me? How could she give a child up and never come back for it? Should I look for her?” It was like a little fox in my life, creeping up at the most inopportune times. It wreaked havoc on my self-confidence, my friendships, and on any relationships that were in formation because I was always afraid of people letting me go and never turning back. It was both the gift and the curse. The gift being that it allowed me the freedom to not feel pressured to find my biological mother because she gave me up so early in life, and the curse being that I existed between a tension of wondering about her and the life I might have had had she never decided to give me up. Opening that Bible on that ordinary day affected my identity, but soon enough everything would change.
After opening that Bible to find out about my identity in the world, I began to open it up to find out about my identity in God. It was a process that took about 10 years and within those years I would go from being active in a large Southern Baptist church in high school, move on to be a sporadic attendee of various Baptist churches in college and then I would take a hiatus from church altogether and decide that I wasn’t ready for a committed relationship with God. But, like Jonah, I couldn’t escape God’s call on my life for long before He called me a second time.
I received his second call when I moved to New York to pursue a career in journalism. While I thought I was on the fast track to becoming a fashion and entertainment journalist, God was bidding me to draw near to Him. He gave me a thirst and a hunger for His righteousness instead of for worldly success and critical acclaim. He changed my appetite for the things of the world and began to awaken within me a real desire to know Him. I knew then that I had to search for a church home and it didn’t take long before I found that home in the Greater Allen Cathedral of New York, an African Methodist Episcopal church. (It helps to mention that I had come full circle when I arrived at the Greater Allen Cathedral because when I was a child, I attended The Allen Christian School, the school owned by the church.) It was there that my spiritual formation really began and God revealed to me the information about my spiritual adoption.
I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Friday night young adult Bible study and I was sitting on the right side of the chapel being attentive to the minister’s teaching about spiritual adoption. In the midst of his lesson he told us to turn to Ephesians 1:4-6 and he read the scripture aloud, “Even before He made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes. God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.” As he read this, tears welled up in my eyes at the thought that not only had God planned my earthly adoption, He adopted me into the family of Christ and secured my place with Him for eternity before I was even knitted in my biological mother’s womb. It was preordained for me to be given up and adopted so that I could eventually understand the significance of my spiritual adoption and the fact that I was always kept. I had already considered myself a “born-again Christian” from my Southern Baptist days, but that night, I was given a true spiritual rebirth. I came to see my physical adoption as a small part of a bigger portrait that God was painting of me. I began to live, not just exist, in this new identity of spiritual adoption and God put me on a fast track to spiritual maturity through my involvement in various ministries in my church and most recently my work.
My fast track to becoming a fashion and entertainment journalist was derailed shortly after that Bible study. It was confirmed for me that it would be as I awaited the start of the 2005 Watchnight service at my church. I was given a revelation that I would be in the number of people who were to be laid-off at Time Inc. early in 2006. Despite this news, a certain peace fell over me. Peace was with me when my boss gave me the fated news in late January 2006. Ironically, the news of my job consolidation was delivered to me exactly how the news of my physical adoption was delivered, on a fluke. I received a call from human resources about another job within the company and I immediately rushed to my boss—without tears in my eyes—to ask her why I was being offered another job. She told me my job was being consolidated but I was given four months to look for a job before my layoff would go into effect. During that time, I looked and interviewed for several jobs in fashion and entertainment journalism, but they all fell through. In the fourth month, a job came looking for me. It was a multi-faith website started by a former Newsweek editor who wanted people to “find and walk a spiritual path that will bring comfort, hope, clarity, strength, and happiness to their lives.” I had never heard of the site before, nor was I looking to become a religion reporter, but somehow I was compelled to send a cover letter and resume. In a few weeks time, I was contacted for an interview. Three interviews later, I was offered the job and became an editor at the world’s largest multi-faith and spirituality website. To many, it was a questionable career move that would throw my career off track. To others it was a strange move for a Christian to make because the site wasn’t solely Christian. But, to me, I had to believe that God positioned me there for a reason.
In the midst of many faiths and spiritual traditions, Beliefnet became the test of my spiritual maturity. I learned how to engage in interfaith dialogue in personal and professional relationships; I cultivated a love for classic theologians such as John Calvin, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Martin Luther; it stimulated my desire to go deeper into Biblical texts not only for my sake but for the sake of those whom I worked with so that I may be an effective minister; and it nurtured and sharpened the only gift that I am certain God has granted me—for the moment—writing. It is my experience at Beliefnet that has helped me apply the knowledge of my identity in God and has even challenged my knowledge of Him. And, for the purposes of my current pursuit of a theological education, it is Beliefnet that has stirred within me the desire to become a student of the word of God and theology so that I may become a credible leader who will effectively bridge the gap between the world and the kingdom of God.
It is my belief that I have lead a full life thus far, but there is yet more in me that I believe I must now turn over to God so that He may be glorified. He spared my life when I could have been another casualty of the foster care system or even aborted. It was Him who ensured that the strikethrough of my arrival in the family Bible was not a deletion of my importance, but a catalyst to understanding my spiritual placement in the book of life.
If I was pre-destined, then the Creator already mapped out my family, my talent, and my life’s journey. What could have been a soul-crushing experience resulted in a deeper appreciation of God’s love for me and in turn my love for Him. I do not know what my “natural” life would have provided. Would I have even known the Lord the way I do now? Who’s to say? But I can say that I live as a whole woman, living on the benefits of my adoption—both of them, and preparing to be a vessel for other souls looking for the love that can only come from the Father above.
“And we know that all things work for the good of those who love the Lord, and are called according to His purpose…”
“It is wrong, it is sin, to accept or remain in a position that you know is a mismatch for you. Perhaps that’s a form of sin you’ve never considered–the sin of staying in the wrong job. But God did not place you on this earth to waste away your years in labor that does not employ his design or purpose for your life, no matter how much you may be getting paid for it.”
John Ortberg, from the book “If You Want to Walk On Water, You’ve Got to Get Out of the Boat”
That is all.
Jesus said in Matthew 4:4:
“One does not live by bread alone but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”
This is what Jesus said when he was being tempted by Satan in the wilderness. There was no turning the stone into a loaf of bread for Jesus because He knew that the bread would only satisfy Him temporarily, but every word out of the mouth of God would fill Him to the brim permanently and that is something I can totally get into.
I am currently in the midst of temptation. The kind of temptation that is very common to man these days, worry. While I’d love to eat the worry away by binging on cupcakes, those cupcakes will only provide me with temporary relief and a very permanent cavity. So, I had to make an executive decision to put the cupcake down and pick the word of God up. In doing so, I came upon a scripture that felt like a home-cooked meal. Everytime I read it, I get full, push myself away from the proverbial table and enjoy a good night’s sleep because all my assurance is in those words and of course, the God of those words. So, I felt the need to share my good meal with you. This is one of the rare moments where I will share food–I don’t share actual food because I’m greedy, but this is way too good to keep to myself. So, pull yourself up to the table and enjoy the meal…
Matthew 6:25-34: Do Not Worry
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you, by worrying, add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about your clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you–you of little faith? Therefore do not worry saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.
So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” (NRSV)
I have a pretty active dream life. The kind where things happen in the dream and I wake up the next morning thinking they happened in real life. The kind that make me wake up and wonder what God is trying to tell me. Last night I had one of those dreams…
I was on a field trip with some school kids. I don’t know whether I was their teacher or a parent, all I know is that I was there. I have no idea where we were save for the fact that when we arrived at our destination we were facing a very large building with multiple flights of stairs leading to the top. We weren’t told what was at the top of that building, all we knew is that we had to climb the stairs to find out.
The first few flights were the easiest to navigate. The students and I were talking casually and breathing easily. But suddenly, all of the students I was making the journey with began to dissappear. One by one it was as if they evaporated into the air. They didn’t fall of the stairs, they just disappeared. Suddenly I was climbing the stairs all by myself. The higher I went, the more challenging it became to go to the next level. But, somehow, I was determined to always go to the next flight of stairs. I had to continuously stop myself from looking down because at the point that I was making this journey by myself, looking down would remind me how impossibly high up I was and how I had to continue climbing because making the journey back down wasn’t an option. I had gone too far to turn around.
Finally, I reached the final flight of stairs, but what separated that final flight and the flight I was standing on was a big gaping hole, a mass of air and space that I had to figure how to navigate it to ascend the last flight. There was only one thing I could do. Jump, no LEAP, to the final flight of stairs that would lead me to the “God knows what” at the top of the building. Sure, I had to contend with the possibility of leaping and missing the final flight of stairs only to plummet to my death. But, I believed that there was going to be something to propel me toward those stairs so that I could make it to the top of the building. I felt it was my destiny.
So, putting aside every random thought, I set my mind on moving forward and leaping. When I took the leap, it seemed like I spent an eternity in that time and space, but I did finally end up making it to that last flight of stairs. I was all by myself ascending the last flight to see what was in store for me at the top of that building…
I wish that I could tell you what was at the top of the building, but I can’t. I woke up before I could find that out. Suffice to say, I’m sure that whatever was waiting for me at the top of the building was going to be a sight to behold, but what was more powerful was the journey it took to get there in the first place. The faith and perserverance that was necessary to keep going up. Even that leap and the time it took for me to float between one flight to the final is telling of our own personal journeys. We may be suspended in time for a while, God’s time, while He prepares things for us on the other side. Nevertheless, we have to continue to move forward without looking back or down. We have to take a leap of faith. We have to trust that in taking that leap, God is not going to let us fall but that He will, literally, be the wind beneath our wings to keep us in flight. All He wants to know is that we trust Him enough to keep moving forward and up in Him, even when it seems like a crazy thing to do. Sort of like climbing stairs on the outside of a building to get to the top to see something, only God knows what.
Last night I had a great discussion with my roommate about broken hearts. It has become a familiar topic in our household as I had one and she has one. She was sharing with me the pearls of wisdom that her mother bestowed upon her and I wanted to shared them with you. As she was pouring herself out to her mother about her broken heart, her mother had this to say (and this is a paraphrase):
“Your heart is too big to be broken, it is just fractured.”
I love how moms know exactly what to say and how to say it. I reflected upon her words for a while and came away with the fact that shifting our perspective from our hearts being broken to being fractured takes the power away from the person who we think broke out hearts. I realized that we can never be in the position to give another person that much power as to believe that they have broken the core part of our being. No one has that much power. It is in God that we live and move and have our being. I understand well that God is the mender of broken hearts, He is also the sovereign God of my life which means that no one has more power than Him. No created being can break my heart when it was in the creator’s hand to begin with. I’m just not willing to give anyone that much power. Not to mention, in terms of the healing process, fractures don’t take as long to heal as breaks do and we should want a quick recovery so that we can be open to what God really wants for us.
At the end of the day, it’s all about shifting our perspective on the issues of our hearts. We’ve become all too accustomed to talking about broken hearts. I know because my last few posts have had to do with broken hearts. But from this day forward, I’m rethinking a broken heart. I’m not entertaining a broken heart. And I’m definitely not sleeping with a broken heart. It’s time to move forward.
Someone told me about this song a few months ago and a few months ago, it meant the world to me. It had a two-fold meaning because it represented the fact that God was “Already Here” and that the person who told me about it was a gift from God. It kind of felt like an “our song” kind of song for me. I would listen to it and be reminded of the person and see them in the most beautiful light, God’s light.
But, the person is gone now. He’s been gone for a little while and I’ve been picking up the pieces of my broken heart including trying not to be reminded of him through things we shared, like this song. But today, as I sat at my desk at work, I felt the spirit prompting me to listen to the song. I followed the move and I was surprised that I didn’t immediately connect the song with the person, but I connected it with God and I recognized that He WAS “Already Here” all along. The love I wanted from him was already provided by Him.
The song talks about how God is “the balm for my wounded soul.” And He has been that for me as I have picked up the pieces of my broken heart. As I listened, I wanted to just cry out to God, not from a place of sadness, but of much joy because He really had been a balm for my wounded soul throughout this process. He has healed me and made me glad. He has given me more joy than I had before I met the person. I sit back and I think about how incredible God is for staying true to His word and His character as a healer. He did a quick work and I can testify to that. He was always “Already Here” for me. I receive His love. Thank you God for being the “Already Here” God of my life.
The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18
I felt compelled to share this verse and the song below because in my own circle there are people dealing with broken hearts and crushed spirits. I myself am on the other side of a broken heart and a crushed spirit and I can confidently say that if it had not been for the Lord who was on my side through the broken heart and crushed spirit, I might not even be able to deliver this message. But, I thank God that He didn’t let me mourn my loss for very long. Everytime I am tempted to be wistful and sad God quickens my spirit and says, “No no no babygirl, I need you to keep moving forward.” And I am moving forward. He’s been like a parent who keeps encouraging their child to get up after they’ve fallen off the bike–or even fallen when they are trying to learn how to walk. I have more to share about how I got over, but for now I will share this song that has ministered to me on countless occasions. I hope that it will minister to you too.
Check back tomorrow for my post on how to quickly mend a broken heart.