Bubbles pop noisily in the pot of water and steam wafts away into the vent above. Little flames lick the underbelly of the pot, bringing the water to a boil. Soon my chicken noodle soup will be ready, the perfect remedy to calm the rage of illnesses that have befallen me.
Training Camp did a number on me, that was certain. In more ways than just a mere common cold. God began a new work in my heart and but it took a wrecking ball (if you’re thinking of Miley Cyrus, I’ll pray for you) to break down the walls I had set up, so His work could begin. For years and years, I have been living under the illusion that if I could build myself into this strong, unbreakable figure, like a rock, I wouldn’t get hurt. For if there was anything that I would go to any lengths to avoid, it was being perceived as weak. And so, naturally, God chose Training Camp to turn me into an emotional, broken, fragile individual. Naturally.
This entire week had been nothing but humbling, an exposure to all that lay beneath my careful crafted exterior. I was ripped out of my comfort zone, deprived of sleep, pushed into the rain and cold, and forced to hug and live uncomfortably close with all these people I had never met before. I took frigid showers out of a bucket, I ate crazy small portions, and, the worst of it all, I was forced to participate in a dance off (I still shudder). My exterior was beginning to crack. I was not the solid rock I had tried so hard to be.
When I was a kid, my favorite band was Starfield and they had an album called Beauty in the Broken. I was reminded of this randomly as I was worshipping at Training Camp and I was struck at how much I really didn’t believe it. How can brokenness be beautiful? How can the snot and tears dripping down my face be anything other than a sign of weakness?
But there is beauty in the broken. My tears, my weaknesses, they all said the same thing to me: “Megan, you are so small, BUT God is so big.” Recognizing our own finiteness is the first step to surrender and the act of surrender is one of the most beautiful things in the world. The second I realize all my attempts at a facade will fail and that I can do nothing out of my own strength, what other choice do I have but to turn to the One. The One who loves me unconditionally, the One who has great plans for me, the One who has no desire to harm me and will never desert me or forsake me.
The flames emerge from my stove top and I think of Christ’s refining fire. I’ve been burned before and it was not a pleasant experience. But Christ would have us burn away all of our fake identities, all of our idols, and all of our insecurities, so all that is left is the child of God we were created to be.
And for years I have been running away from the refining fire that would cleanse me. But at Training Camp, I was able to finally stop and fight the lie that ever hovered in the back of my mind that said “God is going to hurt me, God’s not on my side.” I had to get rid of the notion that only by avoiding vulnerability and ever preventing the exposure of my weaknesses, could I be loved.
Brennan Manning reminds us, “My deepest awareness of myself is that I am deeply loved by Jesus Christ and I have done nothing to earn or deserve it.” Letting oneself slip peacefully into this truth is the first step into the refining fire, the kind that purifies.
So as I sit here, sipping my soup, I reminisce of Training Camp. The week my walls burned down.
