“Post tenebras, lux.” After darkness, light. One of my favorite parts of this world that God’s made is definitely sunrise/sunset. There is something significant about sunrise. . . the breaking of light after hours of dimness, and the unfolding of a whole new day. As silly as it would be to say that, because night lasts for so many hours, it never ends–so would it be to think that we are to stay forever in the dark and sad of our lives. But so thought I, for what seems now a long time ago. In the reality of God’s grace that somehow still permeates this world however, the rays of dawn have broken through in my life and He’s made all things new.
God’s had the mercy to let me die and come back alive with the seasons of this world. And, as I look at new life budding everywhere, I can undeniably say that this reflects my heart and yet, I cannot claim to be the One who got me here. Like a tree, I begrudgingly let go of my leaves and withstood winter unclothed–half in resignation, half in hope that life would someday come back to me. And like a tree, it was not me who brought the budding leaves again. There was rain, there was sun, and there was a long wait.
After what happened last year I knew I couldn’t trust humanity, and I told myself again and again not to seek anyone’s help, nor love, nor true friendship. . . and as I picked myself up off the floor time after time to try to get out of the mess. . . God kept making me plop back down right there in the middle of the mess. . . because that’s where He wanted to meet me, right there as I was: Tear-stained face, dirty from the fall down and bruised, a questioning voice and a million pieced heart, in a disgusting state, sometimes wallowing in self-pity, others in pride trying to get up on broken knees. There He met me, there He wept with me, there He sent friends to carry the burden with me, to pick up the pieces with me . . . And I had to trust people again, i had to believe that it is a good thing we are relational beings, and need each other, that God’s just made it that way.
And so I write now, words never being enough to express how thankful I am to all of these people, and to The One who made us cross paths and stick together. To Jana, for carrying me to the Father when I couldn’t pray, listening to all my questions, and validating my grief, for withstanding my moods and taking me into her arms wiping tears from my face time after time. For the endless words of hope and grace she spoke to these seemingly deaf ears. To Joy for being the daily friend, who would consistently take me out of the holes I’d try to hide in and show me something new. For making me laugh. For them and Elisabeth and Kara too, that were so patient to see me through every day. . . not yet well. For David, all four years being the big brother I never had, listening to endless talks, even in the midst of the demands of school and the rest of his responsibilities. Dropping on our knees in the middle of the library, he praying for the things I couldn’t even speak of. For being an exemplary man of God, and a yet constantly showing me his realness, his humanity, his failure. And there were many others, that with even slight kindness gave me a glimpse of hope. For all of these people making me feel understood in the middle of confusion, valuable in the midst of lies, purposeful in the midst of despair. . . I praise Him.
Even the simplest joys of life I’ve been now gifted: sleep, ability to think clearly and do my work, grace to see other’s lives and pain and truth from the dark times in life to share. My friendships with all the people mentioned above has deepened and new ones have come alive. . . and the greatest of gifts is that I can look back and see purpose in what happened. Already it is being used by Him to soothe other’s and to turn my head to the sound of breaking hearts. All glory to God. He makes all things new. . .