***I want to disclaimer this blog by saying that it is not a public chastisement of an ex boyfriend. In fact, it really has nothing to do with him at all and everything to do with my relationship with the Lord. To this person, you know who you are, you are truly a wonderful individual and I wish you every happiness. I also want to thank you for realizing, long before I did, that we were trying to solve a puzzle with the wrong pieces.
I remember laying on my sister’s bathroom floor—a bottle of cheap wine by my feet. I buried my mouth in the corner of a mascara-stained pillow, muffling my sobs as tears spilled into a small pool on the cool, hard tile. I didn’t want to wake Jessica, or, worse yet, let her see me so utterly broken. So, I stayed on that unforgiving floor for what felt like hours, rehearsing every moment of the previous three years—chronicling and dissecting every instance that could have led to this moment. Curled in a ball, feeling so thoroughly unforgivable and lost, my prayers were so simple—so childlike. “Fix me, God. Make me okay again.”
The word “break up” didn’t seem to do this feeling justice. I wasn’t just broken. I was shattered into a million tiny pieces that, I assured myself, could never be put back together. It wasn’t simply the pain of losing the person I loved, but the agony of loss over the next 50 years of our lives—the years I had planned for, hoped for, clung to and orchestrated outside of a relationship with God. Somehow, someway, I had become that girl—the one I pitied and criticized for losing—no forfeiting—herself for the sake of a relationship. I had seen her so many times and now I was her.
But, it wasn’t supposed to end this way. He had the ring. I had the plan. We were in love. Where was “happily ever after”? Where was the sunset we would ride off into? There was no happy ending. No knight in shining armor—just emptiness. Disney hadn’t prepared me for this.
As I prayed that night, I knew, very clearly, that I didn’t deserve fixing. I had detached myself from God, deciding that He didn’t quite fit in the life I was planning for myself. I was broken, not because He had abandoned me, but because I had tried to do life without Him. The dreams I had constructed for myself were just that—the product of my own selfish desires, created in spite of that small, still voice pleading, “Choose my love, Lindy. Choose my dreams for you—the life I want to give you.”
To be perfectly honest, I didn’t want the life God was offering. I didn’t want to choose God, because somewhere inside myself, in the deepest parts of me that I dared not share with anyone else, I knew the Lord wasn’t asking for my Sunday mornings. He wanted my whole life—every thought, every action, every passion and every dream. And it all seemed too important to lay on the alter.
Fast forward to the present and I find myself in Malaysia. Our team decided to tour a local cave, where, many years ago, Malaysian miners flocked to find riches and with it build full, extravagant and extraordinary lives. As the graveyard within the cave proved, many of them found sickness and death instead.
As we wandered in and out of expansive, dank caverns and wound through small, claustrophobia-inducing tunnels, the Lord so gently spoke to my heart, “This is the life you had planned for yourself.” The phrase was so blunt, so nondescript, and yet I knew exactly what the Lord was referring to.
And, as our guide asked us all to turn off our headlamps and stand, knee-deep in water, amid complete darkness, I could feel that same sickening feeling of fear, anxiety and loneliness that marked the life I thought I wanted only a few years before. It is a feeling of utter isolation—even while among those you love. You can see nothing ahead or behind. Decisions are made out of a spirit of fear and preservation, because, without the spirit of God, your every move is nothing short of a gamble. And, while you know there are twists, turns, rocks and deep crevasses all around you, there remains a lie inside of you, insisting that you can find your own way out.
After a few moments, we turned our headlamps back on and meandered through the tunnels leading out of the cave. I was still considering the Lord’s words as we approached the cave’s exit. From it, a bright light poured through the darkness, cutting through the vast, seemingly impermeable shadows. I wish I could accurately describe to you the scene that awaited us as we entered that light.
The river we trudged in snaked through lush green banks—widening and narrowing as it weaved among patches of trees and garden beds. A small bridge hung over us like a gate into what can only be described as paradise. Brightly colored birds chirped and swooped overhead as we climbed up the grass—our eyes widening as they drank in the view. The cave mouth ascended into an expansive mountainside, like a wall rising to protect this oasis. Sunlight spilled through the lacy tree canopy above, as children laughed and splashed in the gurgling stream—their loving parents smiling as they looked on with pride and adoration. Bright, tropical flowers overflowed from tiered garden beds, demanding the attention of each passerby. A pathway was carved through the garden, where lovers walked hand-in-hand and dreamed dreams together.
Drenched from head to toe, we sat on benches near the river, listening to the song of laughter rising from the children in the river. My team mates chatted with one another and I made the appropriate “mmhmmm” and “ah yes” responses. But, in truth, I was rendered nearly speechless by this place we were in. And then, as He always does, the Lord spoke to my heart with a beauty that surpassed even that of this garden, “This is a life lived in my presence.”
I sat, soaking in the beauty of it all, and realized that this garden was a picture of the life I had nearly forfeited only a short time ago. The relationship I clung to, so diligently, wasn’t what the Lord had for me and somewhere deep inside myself, I knew that. And, so, rather than release it to Him, I chose to wander into a deep and dark cave, determined to find my own way and make my own adventure, never realizing that a life infused with the spirit and glory of God was a lush garden waiting to be discovered.
Isn’t it funny? I chose to wander in darkness, believing the lie that it was better than what the Lord could offer me. I know in my heart of hearts that God, in His grace and wisdom, took the life that I was planning for myself in exchange for a dream I didn’t have the capacity to create, and yet, the most unfathomable part of it all is that I still find myself terrified to give myself over to Him completely. While I am in awe of His grace and sovereignty, I still fight a constant battle to believe that He loves me as a daughter and wants to give me good and perfect gifts—that He wants to lead me into a garden and not a dark and lonely cave.
I write this blog humbly, understanding that I in no way have mastered the art of giving myself fully to Jesus. I feel so unworthy of telling you to believe that truth, because I so often find myself in disbelief. So, know, that when I implore to trust that the Lord’s best for you truly is the best, I am also pleading with my own heart to accept, and cling to and believe that truth. Let us walk in faith together and pursue the things of the Lord. Eden is just around the bend.
