"...to give them beauty for ashes,..." Isaiah 61:3
I love this whole chapter in Isaiah, but verse 3 is so poignant and moving to any person's soul if they have been claimed by Christ and given their mess of a life over to Him. This past week, for reasons that were out of my control, things were brought up in classes that called for me to reflect on my past. Despite the fact that some days I wish I could forget it all and start a fresh, it doesn't erase it's happening. 19 years do not just wash away in our mind, even though by the grace of God it's residue has been cleared and I am made pure once again. Even though I know this, the pain of more than just physical loss breaks me sometimes. Especially when I have to remember the moments where I could have chosen a better path than I did, only basing my decision to act on selfishness, greed, and ignorance. I need His grace and mercy more then (if it were possible to gain it more) as I do any time.
In my CHMN 403 class we had to look at articles pertaining to teenage girls. Oh, what a dreadful time that was! God blesses me so much with this new frame of mind, I barely remember anything before college. Only bits and pieces of the obvious things that marked my life. But while we were discussing them, I couldn't even speak. I felt my heart hurt as the women in the class told their stories of conquering the great divide between culture and Christ, something I had no clear knowledge of until it was too late and looking into the eternal realm of things had to be done. I was encouraged that these women were strong and I was so proud of them, but I felt so different from the crowd. All of them grew up in these Christian homes where their parents poured into their lives the knowledge of Christ and were examples of it to their children. Their dads were loving men who would make sure they knew their purpose and worth all their lives, and proving to be their greatest human ally in this dark and wicked world. This world I pray so hard for my children to gain and will help to maintain if given the chance...was not my life. Finding out the worlds mysteries and wicked tricks was my own job. I had a standard to uphold of good grades, great athletic ability, and going to college was all there was to it. Be the best, be surrounded by the best, and get the furthest. It seemed so normal though I look back and see a sick outline of depraved creativity that made no way to uniqueness. But, that is New England for you...and in essence, it took leaving Connecticut to appreciate any of it.
Sometimes I have cried out to God wondering why I couldn't have the princess life. Where my dad was king and he protected his daughter with all his might. Where my true talents and gifts were not masked by the need to live up to the parental standards and life of my older brother and every other kid in my town. Where I knew deeply and truly that I was loved by more than anything this world could give me and that my satisfaction was in a God who communes with His chosen, instead of the idea of a distant God. Why me?
The only answer is: So my life would bring Him glory. My life has been no better or worse than anyone elses. My path to Christ was just more unique and pertinant to me than it would have been to anyone else. There are things I have learned about God that others won't understand about Him because my circumstances have allowed secrets of His holiness to be souly precious to me. The feeling of freedom that I have is different from anyone else because it was specially designed for me. His attention to me and my needs breathe new life to me that isn't given to anyone else but me, as all this is the same for every other chosen child. It is incredible what God can do with ashes.
I came out of class yesterday hurt and angry at my own mistakes and the actions of others (i.e. my family). I sulked back to my dorm in a rather fast paced rage with Skillet's "Hero" blaring in my ears (I am from the north and listened to Linkin Park for years when I was frustrated...welcome to the Christian version of that). My heart was pounding and bursting and I almost started to cry. This isn't the first time my memory was jogging and stirred up all kinds of dust from the past, but this time I couldn't share my end of it in class. It split open a more personal wound that I had never addressed before. Yet, when I sat down in my comfy black chair/nap area and let my thoughts collect in proper order, I felt peace. That wasn't me anymore. He didn't have to remove it twice from me, my past was but a memory and a set up lessons I learned from. It wasn't a part of me as it was suppliment to the new life He gave. He has forgiven me for my mistakes, failures, and many pains I gave Him. He restored what was lost by giving me more abundantly ever since. He has continued to sanctify me, molding me to the perfect form He wishes. No memory from my past can override what God has restored and redeemed. The discipline of remembering this and reflecting on that alone is something I (as many others) need to implement into our lives. His power is greater than our mind and the wickedness that tries to rip that gift from our hands. Praise God for His brilliant transforming power and His continued gift of sanctification.
Read the whole chapter of Isaiah 61. Don't just read it as words on a screen or in your own version on the Bible, but as God speaking to you. He is telling you of what He has done and what He wants to do with you and for you. He wants to make your life a glorious victory for Him and His kingdom. What a privilege!
No comments:
Post a Comment