Ironman bought me a book for Christmas called One Thousand Gifts Devotional- Reflections on Finding Everyday Graces by Ann Voskamp. As I leafed through the pages, I felt my heart stir that maybe I should invite a friend or two to go through the book with me. In just twelve days, there are now 34 women (and growing) going through this book with me/us. I created a private blog for the group, and I assumed that God would ask me to keep this blog here quiet for the time being. I have learned that I need to stop assuming. As He leads, in my broken-best I will follow. Today, He is asking me to share in both spaces.
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In the devotional entry we are looking at today Ann Voskamp shares a fragment with us about the heart-wrenching time her baby sister died. She writes, "They lay her gravestone flat into the earth, a black granite slab engraved with no dates, only the five letters of her name. Aimee."
This is in the first paragraph in the pages I am supposed to teach, and I can't read any further.
I CAN'T GET PAST THIS.
I AM FROZEN.
My heart is twisted up and I wrestle with God. I don't want to "go" where I have to "go" to tell about a grave in my own life. I think the trigger for me was the way Ann worded it, "A...slab engraved with...only...five letters."
My grave slab has eight... eight letters. And here I am, stuck.
THERE IS MORE THAN ONE KIND OF DEATH.
Because of our human condition we have all been touched by it. We have either chosen the grave path ourselves, or we have suffered at the hands of someone else who has chosen it, and it has affected us deeply. Sometimes, it's a combination of both. Sometimes, things just are.
Please don't misunderstand. The loss of a child, husband, wife, parent, brother, sister, friend... physical death... there is absolutely no comparison to the ripping devastation of such loss.
This, too, I have experienced.
THE FINALITY OF THE GRAVE IS A RUTHLESS BITE.
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But death...
Death can come in many forms.
Death rattles you to the core of who you are.
Death can leave you helpless within its jaws.
Death forever changes what was once before.
Death leaves you raw, open, slayed, wounded, bleeding, infected, defeated...
Divorce, alcoholism, pornography (men and women, both), infidelity, promiscuity, physical abuse, emotional abuse, betrayal, depression, rape, adultery, abortion, miscarriage, suicidal thoughts, job failure, drug addiction, sex addiction, rejection, self-hatred, loneliness, spiritual desert, pride, shame, failure, failed expectations, failed friendships, disease, injury, prostitution, murder, gossip, slander...
THE FINALITY OF THE GRAVE IS A RUTHLESS BITE, INDEED.
DEATH CHANGES YOU.
I have a gravestone that covers death. My death. Beneath it lies my deepest regrets, my worst failures, my lowest sorrows. From time to time, I still come to the stone and weep.
GRIEF IS A WRESTLING BETWEEN LETTING GO AND MOVING FORWARD.
How do you move forward when what lies under that stone has shattered your soul? How do you quiet the grief? Some days I want to lift the slab and crawl right in with the mess. Maybe there inside that grave I won't be seen, and maybe there inside that grave I can just emotionally erupt with all this mess and it will release me? But I can't. Who can lift the sealed stone that covers a grave? Who is strong enough? Not me.
SO I STAND OVER THIS SLAB IN THE POURING DOWN RAIN. NO UMBRELLA. SOUL DRENCHED IN THE CONTENTS OF MY GRAVE. VULNERABLE.
I COLLAPSE TO MY KNEES IN A HEAP ON THE GROUND. I AM A FILTHY WRETCH.
THEN I SEE IT.
I remember that HE is the one who gave me the picture of the grave. The visualization of it is etched in my soul. All of those "things" needed somewhere to go, because they aren't me anymore. I can't undo them. I need to embrace the lessons, but I need to be free from their bondage, and from their shame. Those "things" shaped me and made me who I am, and they are shaping me still, but I am not the sum of those "things." Those "things" do not define me. I still struggle. I am not so far removed from the grief of this grave that I can move completely on from it. Shame and grief are tricky things. On the days I am swallowed up in its shadow, I remember...
THE WORD ON THE STONE...
It's just one simple word.
HE GAVE ME THIS WORD, AND SEALED UP MY GRAVE WITH IT.
With this word, He frees my soul over and over again. When I stumble back to the grave, HIS GRACE eventually helps me find the word again, and HIS TRUTH washes away the muck and sludge that keeps trying to pull me back.
UNSPOKEN.
EIGHT LETTERS...
My grave slab is engraved with this one simple word that takes my breath away and breathes new life into me all at the same time. This is the word HE chose for me, and only I can fully know its meaning. The pouring down rain turns into the pouring down of HIM on me, and it breaks through to me...
HIS TRUTH OVER ME.
UNSPOKEN.
Until...unless...if... for His purpose, God lifts the rock that covers my grave, the grave will stay sealed, and I realize that...
TO HAVE LIFE, YOU HAVE TO WALK AWAY FROM THE GRAVE.
ONE STEP AT A TIME...
Turn and walk one step into...
FORGIVENESS...
Take another step and walk towards...
RESTORATION...
Keep fighting and walk into...
FREEDOM...
MERCY...
HOPE...
HEALING...
REDEMPTION...
PEACE...
LET IT WASH...LET IT WASH...LET IT WASH...
There will probably always be days that the grave pulls me back. There will be days that I still stand over it and weep and grieve. You can't cheat pain, and you can't cheat death... of any kind. But this I know...
HIS TRUTH WILL COME.
HIS TRUTH WILL FREE...
AND HIS TRUTH WILL... KEEP FREEING...
"'See, the stone I have set in front of Joshua! There are seven facets on that one stone, and I will engrave an inscription on it,' says the LORD Almighty, 'and I will remove the sin of this land in a single day.'" (Zechariah 3:9)
All is grace...all is grace,
