This is a hard blog to write…. It deals with one of the darkest times in my life and in me and Bethany’s marriage. We hadn’t been married for very long when the strains of life started reeking havoc on our young marriage. We were confused and disillusioned by failed expectations and a lack of focus on God’s plans for us lead to many bad decisions as individuals and as a married couple.
I began to struggle with depression and failure as I watched my marriage fall apart. My pain grew and grew and for the first time in my life I began considering alternatives to living. One night I drove my car out into the darkness of the Tennessee backroads and had no idea where I was going. I drove until I somehow ended up back at our apartment. I sat in a parking spot outside our door and stared down at a sharp razor in my other hand.
I tried slashing at my wrist but it wouldn’t penetrate the skin. It just made me more frustrated and I felt like I was even more pathetic. I took the blade and pressed it into my skin enough to leave a mark. I left another mark and another. The blood began to drip and the blade turned pink… I felt a hand over my heart and God’s voice say, “Enough.” But the damage had been done. Time went on and the tensions didn’t ease. I fell back into that escape a few more times. Finally Bethany called in a pastor friend to get me to stop.
He counseled me out of my depression and started showing me where I wasn’t relying on Jesus. And how my failure to find what I needed in Him was leading me to feel unsustained in life. Things started to turn around for me personally, but not for our marriage yet… Sometime later I found myself in another bout with depression and feeling like there was no way out. Home alone, I sat and fought with satan on the best course of action to find relief. Finally I resolved that my flesh my fail but my saviors love will not. I took a blade and cut a cross in my arm to once again relieve the pain inside but to declare Jesus was still my deliverer.
Fast forward to a month ago and I find myself in a tattoo shop in Johannesburg, South Africa. I know what I want and where I want it. Every scar on my arm had faded away by this point except one… the cross. Everyday I look at my arm and I am reminded of that time in my life and how Jesus’ name, death, and love saved me from it. A quick 45 seconds later and a permanent reminder had been placed on my arm in the exact place that I had made my statement over a year before.
Since then some awesome things have happened. A member of our church in Johannesburg prophesied over me after hearing my story and said I walked in the footsteps of Abraham and made a mark on my body to signify my covenant with the Lord and like Abraham I will raise up a great nation of believers in the kingdom of God. Kids this month in Zimbabwe have looked at my arm and asked what my tattoo was. It’s lead to countless conversations about what the cross is and why it’s so important to everyone on earth. We’ve seen almost 20 kids decide to follow Christ at our kids club in the past week.
One of the Bible stories that lately has been coming up for me again and again is the story of Joseph. It’s come up a handful of times last month and this month and came up again at kids club. The memory verse from that day I think sums up the story of my arm perfectly: “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”
Gen.50:20
