Two years ago, probably to the week, my parents house, and everything that was in it, was destroyed by fire. It happened on a Friday. Jason, me, and the kids were ordering our meal at Friendly's when dad called us. One of those gut wrenching calls. This may sound materialistic and shallow, but when you lose your home and all your stuff, it is a painful and sad time. Because you didn't just lose stuff. You lost your comfort. You lost security. You lost precious mementos. You lost images you wouldn't be able to conjure up if you didn't have the pictures to help. So you lost some of your past.
In a matter of 3 minutes, so many things were destroyed. So many things were taken away. And you can replace most of those. But for some, like comfort and security, it takes much longer to replace. And for others, like pictures, special trinkets, & your pet, you'll never recover.
Jason's trade and business has been on a decline for the past few years. This year we're watching it die. And we so wait. The burden weighs heavily on Jason. Again, comfort and security are on the line. Except this time it's a torturous slow process.
Five months ago, in a matter of seconds, we lost a precious life. So many questions. So much pain. So little comfort, and so little security.
If you tell me that God's gift of salvation is free - I'll laugh bitterly.
It costs everything.
Michelle's dad told us that he and Jane always knew and believed that their girls were on loan from God. But when God takes, how do you let go?
One of my pastor's, in a sermon a few years ago, asked us if we would sign our name to the end of a blank document. Only God knows what's on that paper. Maybe it says you'll lose your job. Maybe it says you'll become a millionaire, maybe it says you'll travel to Africa to be a missionary.
Maybe it says you'll lose your child.
In signing that paper you're promising God that your hold on these things is not as strong as your hold on Him. That you'll still follow Him through anything. In signing the paper you're choosing to love Him, to cling to Him, to pursue a relationship with him.
I signed my name. But it wasn't done flippantly. It was done hesitantly, knowing that God will give me grace when I struggle.
Jesus told his disciples to leave everything behind. I always struggled with that.
Over the past couple of years, and especially last year, I have had a close walk with Jesus. I had fallen in love with him. Again, this wasn't something that was surface level. I had been through pain, both physical and emotional, before that time. What I knew of Him was formed from questions and sorrow, joy and love.
I realized last night that not only am I grieving the loss of security and comfort, and the loss of a sweet friend, I am grieving the loss of the close relationship I had with my Maker. It's different now. My friend, Angie, emailed me this morning. She sent me a quote from the book, The Shack.
"Sadness is a wall between two gardens."
Such is the case with me and God right now. The pain is too great at times. How can it not affect our relationship? I've grown up with all the formulas on how to restore that relationship. I've grown up with the answers on how to prevent that from happening in the first place. But what a person who's never known deep pain doesn't realize is this:
It's not my choice. I desperately want to get back what was lost between Jesus and I. And maybe it's not lost. Maybe it's just overshadowed. It's that wall that separates. I just don't have the energy to tear it down right now. And maybe that's His job anyway.
And I still have to answer that question, again.
Will I sign my name?
