We were asked to write an essay called This I Believe about what really matter to us, as preparation for this world missions adventure called The World Race. This is what I believe….brokenness is a gift.
Over the course of four months in 2003, I moved in with three girls, began attending seminary, and started attending an inner healing group. (If you haven’t already noticed, God has to use MAJOR changes in my life to get my attention, apparently!!) Each time that the Lord layed these things on my heart, I was like “are you crazy!?” But like an other crazy person that is seeking Him, l did what He asked of me.
As I began to assimilate myself into this house of three women, I realized quickly that this was not what I had signed up for. These were really nice women, but they were in my space, in my stuff, and they talked about EvErYtHiNg!! (Did I mention that they are all counselors!?) Right: Ashlie, Shannon,Christina and me
(Shannon moved out along the way and we added our friend Cheri to the mix!
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I knew that our honeymoon period was over when I completely lost it one day and went berserk over some cat puke. Yes, it was gross, but it did not warrant my outrage. I quickly internalized that there was something wrong with me yet again.
I began seminary with my roommate, Christina, who is a 4.0 student and all I could see when I looked at her was my failures and inadequacies. So, she became my scapegoat.
At the time, I knew that my responses to her were “crunchy,” as we liked to say. Yet I continued to treat her differently than my other roommates. I snapped at her often. I blamed my responses on her unwillingness to understand my point of view. I blamed her for not understanding my feelings. And most significantly, I wounded her out of my woundedness. She tried to talk with me several times about my responses and attitude toward her, but she normally received a cold shoulder and an icy glare. I specifically remember one of these chats like it was yesterday. We were standing in the Mifflin kitchen at the bottom of the stairs. And I remember thinking in my head that what I was saying and doing to her was not right, but I did not know how to fix it. So, it just kept continuing.
Until one day about a year and a half into my living with them. Someone called a family meeting to address the tension in the house (AKA Melanie’s issues). And I can’t honestly tell you how it started or what was said. But this is what happened.
I found myself at Christina’s feet, weeping, pleading for her forgiveness. I have no idea what I said, nor what anyone else said that day. But what I can tell you is that in my brokenness, I found healing. I had wounded this girl over and over, yet she daily brought me to the feet of Jesus, loved me despite myself, and forgave me.
I can’t ask for a better gift than that. And it came from my brokenness.
STAY TUNED for Part 2. I asked for Christina’s version of the story.
