When Mercy Found Me {Day 11} Redeemed :: Part 1

Being found by mercy doesn’t always mean we’re merciful toward our own heart.

In fact, we are usually hardest on ourselves.

For the next couple years I grew in intimacy with God, with profound gratitude for His goodness and grace.  But because of the enormity of my guilt and shame, my intimacy with Him was hindered.

I refused to fully forgive myself, believing the lie He could never use me again…

Convinced I deserved a life of guilt and shame, because of what I’d done.

Stained, flawed,

And defined by my poor choices.

I carefully guarded my interactions with others and limited my transparency—never letting anyone completely in. Because I was convinced if they really knew where I’d been, or what I’d done, rejection would be the result.

But God has a way of working when we least expect … teaching profound lessons, in ways that can only be Him… ← Tweet That

Lessons that correct us, teach us, and change us, as He shines His light through our most broken places.

And that’s exactly what happened as I attended a women’s retreat in the spring of 2007.

We had been going to my brother-in-law’s church for the past four years. And although it was an hour drive away, we enjoyed rebuilding and connecting with family on a weekly basis. One Sunday, I heard it announced, a women’s retreat, in the mountains. And at first I hesitated to sign up. But with three kids under 5, it was an opportunity to get away! To get away with God. A time to be changed.

I agreed to carpool with some ladies from the church, and wedged myself into the SUV next to Vicky. She was the only one I hadn’t met, and I’d soon discover, the only one who didn’t know Jesus. Our conversation flowed freely as she shared about her background and her search for God–how over the past few years she’d investigated each of the world’s religions, in a search for the one that would satisfy her longing for God. And she couldn’t stop talking about how much she had been enjoying our church.

We settled into our rooms and meandered to the dining hall for dinner, where the energy and chatter brought the otherwise dull room to life. All ten women jammed around the table, but as we began to eat it wasn’t long before the conversation took a turn for the worse, as the women began to complain, one after another, about their husbands. I was so saddened to hear them talk, and grew indignant as they continued.

I’d known the power of destructive thoughts and the damage of degrading words.  And I’d paid a big price for my failure.

And while I was usually quiet in these situations to avoid transparency, that night I couldn’t keep it in. Risking being found out, I spoke up. I shared how I’d been divorced and how it takes two for a marriage to break down.

But no sooner had the statements flown out of my mouth, the internal conversation began to rage … this could lead to transparency, to the truth about me. What was I doing?

I managed to back out of the conversation and determined that if questioned later, I could downplay the contribution of my words.

To be known and then rejected was too painful.

But hiding had pain of its own. ← Tweet That

The next morning we enjoyed a delicious breakfast, a morning session, and a casual lunch. And then came the afternoon session.

And the topic?

Pain and suffering–how God is with us in our pain and longs to walk with us through our suffering.

And as I quietly sat in my seat, my heart was moved by her message. Even after eight years had passed, this is where I was still living, in pain and with suffering. And I could feel the tears just beneath the surface as I reflected on the self-inflicted wounds from which I still ached.

After her message, she sent us off with an assignment: find a quiet place to spend three hours with God, reviewing your life and journaling two lists—one of all your blessings, and the other of all your suffering. And then, listen, to whatever God wants to say to your heart.

{Sigh…}

It’s true I’d been progressing in my intimacy with God, but this assignment … THIS was a stretch.

THREE hours? What could I possibly say to God for three hours? I was nervous and unsure … but still determined to try. After all, I had come to be changed.

I chose a spot amidst some grass in a meadow nearby. I could feel the warmth of the sun heat my skin as the birds chirped and the flowers waved in the breeze. His love was written right there on this mountain for all to see.

I settled in and opening my journal, drew a big black line smack down the center. The blessings of my life flowed easily onto the one side of the line, as I had much to be thankful for. But squeezing out the list of suffering, remembering the pain, feeling the guilt and shame, that list was harder to write. Eight years later, and I was still imprisoned by my internal accusatory self.

I flipped to the Psalms, and immediately began my routine dance with God–the one I’d been doing for the past five years…

Where I lament over my sin and tell Him how sorry I am again,

Where I read scripture that tells of His mercy and love,

And then where He comforts me, reassuring me again. 

This was my dance. This had become my primary prayer.

But this time would be different. The dance was about to change.

And this time, God was about to lead.

His comfort didn’t come. But instead, I heard it, almost screaming at my heart…

Get over yourself!

Do you think your sin was SO special that my blood can’t cover it?

You are forgiven.

I have conquered sin and you are free, and if I’ve forgiven you, you need to forgive your own heart!

I have plans to use you, to redeem your story, to bring glory to My Name.

Will you trust me?

Will you let me use your story for good?

 

I sat stunned and surprised, and a little irritated too. Didn’t He know it was His job to comfort me?

But then it hit me like a big fat brick.

All this time I’d been minimizing all He’d done for me on that cross–limiting His power in my life.

And why?

So I could wallow in my pity and shrivel up and quit?

And so in the meadow that day, sitting Indian-style on the grass, I opened my hands and prayed a prayer of surrender.

And as I committed to laying down my guilt and the shame, and beginning to forgive my own heart, I made a promise to obey.

A promise that as He provided the opportunity, I would allow Him to use my story for good–to become a broken vessel … even if right now, I couldn’t imagine how.

And little did I know how very soon that opportunity would come…

Is being transparent with others risky to you?

Have you struggled to forgive your own heart?

To read When Mercy Found Me {Day 12} ←click here

To read ALL posts in this series, When Mercy Found Me ←click here

Photo Credit: Mike Legend, Flickr Creative Commons

Related posts:

When Mercy Found Me {Day 2} Time in the Mud When Mercy Found Me {Day 3} A Mercy that Was All New When Mercy Found Me {Day 9} A New Beginning