Everyday, I walk around on this earth. In the last 6 weeks, my feet have taken me farther away from home, but the steps feel the same. My body knows how to walk. Muscle memory propels me forward. Each day, I wake up and my feet hit the floor. The invisible odometer ticks away to keep silent record of where I’ve been. The earth absorbs my impact, and true to the laws of physics, pushes me back with equal and opposite force. It is steady. Persistent. Predictable. I never question whether the ground below me will behave differently. I have accepted the truth that the earth will remain constant and we will coexist as long as I’m here.
There is a different, darker truth that I’ve also come to accept unknowingly. Like my feet join with the ground below them, my soul meets with my past every morning too. They link hands and stroll casually throughout the day as if they were lovers. There is a silent uncomfortability that is pushed under the rug of familiarity. They understand each other. They have a routine. There is an ease with which they interact. My soul is intertwined with my past – not beautifully, but as if in chains to the latter.
I have become desensitized to painful memories, choosing to stuff them down or to push them aside in favor of the present moment I’m living. Saying “no” to processing pain enough times makes it seem natural. Ignoring your problems is a quick fix that fixes nothing at all. I have swallowed the enemy’s medicine thinking I was becoming healthy when all the while I was being slowly poisoned, crushed by the weight of isolation and shame.
We are being asked for vulnerability. I’ve come so far and it still isn’t enough because in the presence of God I haven’t come all the way. I’ve chosen to leave a gap where my pain separates me from running into the outstretched arms of the Father. Stubbornness and pride tell me that I’m equipped to handle my own pain and after doing so alone, I can take the polished, processed, presentable package to the Lord – that going to Him with a jumbled pile of messiness isn’t acceptable.
You walk through my dreams at night and peak around corners in my mind during the day. I will forever carry a piece of you, and I’m plagued knowing that you will forever carry a piece of me. I allowed my soul to be bared before you and your poor integrity filleted it for the watching world to see. You broke me and then carried around all the pieces inside a beautiful vessel. I allowed myself to convince them all that I was okay and that you were perfect. I protected you when you weren’t worth protecting, and you told me that I was safe when you were lying in wait to destroy me. Your intentions were never evil on the surface. Your own pain bled through into every word you spoke. I thought I could love you well enough to heal you.
I look back for moments on the time we spent together and see glimpses of God’s hands in it all. My perspective is forever changed for which I am grateful. I can’t go back and undo anything, but the grace of God can shift the force of the impact of you and propel me in His direction. I chose to tie my soul to yours and to let you consume my identity, but my Father doesn’t accept the truth that I’ve believed for so long about myself.
His intention for my soul is expansive. It never started or ended at you. My identity is not in the past. My identity isn’t even comprised of the events that took place in the past. My identity is found in the Lord, and the past is just my story. Stories aren’t over until the author finishes writing, and the Lord turned the page after you. He started a new chapter about redemption. It was called The Prodigal Daughter Returns. He pursued me until I submitted to His love.
I believed that my future fully depended upon the things that happened in my past. I adopted the idea that cause and effect rule the outcome of my life. In my head, everything depended on me and what I had done. Thank God those are only the rules of the world. The Kingdom of God doesn’t depend at all on me. Everything depends fully on God.
Last October at training camp, the Lord spoke to me directly about this internal struggle. Healing is a process and there is still farther to come, but He has been faithful to walk alongside me and even carry me at times. When I asked Him to speak truth about my testimony, He said
“You are my daughter. I knew where you would walk. I knew the choices you would make. I saw the pain you would feel. I heard your cries of brokenness before I ever created you. Your beauty is greater than any choice you have made. Your worth doesn’t come from your story/past. It comes from Me. You chose to walk into the darkness, but I followed you. I bring beauty from ashes and since you wouldn’t let me break you, I had to let you break yourself. I already put the pieces back together. You are renewed and made whole. Your story is not only a gift to you but a gift to those you tell. And though they may not understand, you aren’t a picture of dirty or broken. You are a picture of hope and restoration. At times your story is helping plant seeds, sometimes watering, sometimes weeding, and sometimes the harvest. Don’t be discouraged. Lean into Me and allow Me to use your story to speak into those who don’t know Me yet and who are still in the midst of their shame.”
Our Father doesn’t say we are forever burdened with the pain of our past. He doesn’t sentence us to a branding of our previous relationships. He doesn’t patch a scarlet letter onto our clothing and identify us as the mistakes we made. He sees us in the light of Christ’s love. He says we can lay down at the foot of the cross and rest in His presence. He says to leave behind our sorrows and our shame.
From the head to the heart, You take me on a journey of letting go and getting lost in You. In this season, the Lord is bringing about heart change within me and walking me into freedom and healing – once and for all.
It’s time to break some soul ties and sanctify myself before my Father.
