I am in Swaziland, sitting on the ledge of the “porch” in the backyard listening to the breeze rustle through the dry corn stalks and through the guava and banana tree leaves. Roosters and chickens have become at ease with my presence, and even the fluffy newly hatched chicks are pecking around at my feet, letting out their soft little peeps. All the colorful laundry: polka dots, stripes and floral print, is flapping in the wind, fringe flying. The cock crows several times, heaving his chest out, calling attention to his too long ignored pride and presence. (This is the sound I wake up to, far too many times, FAR too early in the morning.) The old and rusting tools and loops of barbed wire that look like Jesus’ crown of thorns are all being overgrown by the green grass and foliage that decorate the hills and farmland. Everywhere I look, I seem to be surrounded by new life. New fruit on the trees, newly clear blue skies after the rain, new baby chicks, new friendships, new seedlings to be planted, and even laughing children that are new in their life journey. All of these are blessings and parallels to the new life that is being created within me, physical representations of the way God is renewing my heart.
This has been one of the hardest months on the Race. Not because of the toil intensive labor of agricultural ministry, or the different culture, or the people of Swaziland, or even because I am living in a small house full of fifteen other girls (all of these things I am actually thoroughly enjoying); but because God is consuming me from the inside out. He is challenging and reaffirming certain truths I was clinging to, and tugging at all of the lies until I get too weary to keep clutching on and just let them drop. He is bringing up my deepest fears so that I will confront them, but then lovingly steps in front of me, shielding me from them, taking my trembling hands in His and comforting me. My heart is in turmoil, tears won’t stop flowing from my eyes, but it is all happening in a very gentle way that is bringing me closer to Him. Jesus is a Gentleman, and without harshly forcing me, He is easing my heart into His as I become ready. He is burning away everything that I have been holding onto that is of myself; not roaring like a terribly raging fire, just burning slowly and gently like hot coals and embers, quietly and consistently eating away all that was and turning it to ash and dust. He is making me new and He is making beautiful things out of the dust. I think, maybe, this is the kind of pain that doesn’t sear yet hurts the most because of how graciously beautiful it is. It isn’t radically transformative like a rapid difference you notice all of a sudden; it is a change that happens slowly but surely so that you can watch the change as it happens and marvel at it.
It is amazing to watch this change happen in other people, but entirely different when you are able to experience it happening within yourself. Not just experience it, but to be conscious of it. Like a turning kaleidoscope you can watch in awe as the colors and shapes shift, and there is something magical about the fact that your own hand is guiding it. The past six months God has been guiding my hand. I have learned and grown so much, found healing in so many ways and shifted my internal shapes and colors. But this month God is asking me to release everything to Him, to heal it all. I had been so pleased with all the things God had patched up along the way that I didn’t realize there were so many things I had been holding at a distance, too afraid to confront the deep ways I had been hurt. It is hard to hand things over to the Lord when you refuse to acknowledge their existence. These wounds I have allowed to deeply affect not just myself, but all of my family, and I have become too accustomed to masking the pain with a smile and sweeping the dirt under the rug.
So Jesus lifted the mat. He told me it was nice that I had let him sweep the cobwebs from the corners and even clean out the kitchen, but he also wanted to clean up the huge pile of dirt that was dumped in the living room. I felt embarrassed and ashamed that I had ignored and actually forgotten about something so big and painful. I wanted to pretend that I had been tidied up enough to be presentable and even become a little bit sparkly. But Jesus lovingly and gently took my hand and said, Katharine, I want you make you COMPLETELY new. You have allowed me to heal and restore, but you cannot become new if there is still parts of the old left over. Even that I want to heal for you. Even that burden that you are so ashamed and embarrassed of, that you hide because of the pain, I want to renew. Give it to me. Give me your heart and your life and your hurt and your pain. Give me all of it. I want to carry your burden for you and cast it away. Because you are WORTH being made WHOLE. I WANT to do this for you. I WANT to heal you, all of you, not just the small parts that you have let me redeem. It is time.
Will you let me?
Will you let me RESTORE, RENEW, and REDEEM you?
Will you let me make you WHOLE?
Because you DESERVE it. You are WORTHY of being completely healed.
Why?
Because I LOVE YOU.
