Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Dear God,

A few years ago I wrote you from the desert mountain. I shared about a shifting going on in my soul. I didn't know what was happening at the time; yet, I heard the call to trust.

What happened after that time is history. I had the single most meaningful spiritual renewal of my life. Day in and day out for more than four months I was bathed in grace-filled love. You showed me the incredible spiritual wonders of creation at every level. Some days, most days I was overwhelmed, so much so that I would whisper, "Slow down, Lord, I can't take it all in." You didn't stop.

Shortly after I came home I was struck with two very serious medical conditions. I was dropped low, so low that it was all I could do many days to get out of my bed and walk to the bathroom. I grew weaker every day, sometimes not able to speak above a whisper. It took more than a year to determine what was wrong and to find and regulate medicines that would keep me on an even keel. But it wasn't over.

My church had experienced, was experiencing its own spiritual renewal. Hope came to life, joy returned, a desire to move forward welled up within people. Yet, it was a fragile time. Big decisions had to be made in order to produce a future for the congregation. In addition since I was the first female pastor in 164 years, I felt the weight of women who would come after me. My marriage fell to the rocks; a close friendship collapsed. Suddenly, I felt as if I were carrying the weight of the world. And I carried it all for the next three plus years.

During that time I drew from the well you had filled during my renewal. Ladle after ladle of water quenched my thirst for understanding, help, support, affirmation, love, wisdom and more. Daily I stood at the well, filling my bucket, crying out for help. I felt your presence every day; yet I continued to carry the crushing weight.

When things got worse and my ability to carry the burdens lessened, I finally came to a breaking point. I felt, saw death before me. My health was breaking down under the weight. I finally looked death in the face. I waited to see if it would claim me.

Remarkably at those breaking points you spoke to me, sang bits and pieces of hymns; you ushered me into heavenly places, showered me with grace, took my hand, whispered hope. When my hope was shattered, I asked particular persons to carry a vision of hope for me until I was able to carry the vision for myself. What gifts they offered me.

When I finally relented, falling under the spell of brokenness, I surrendered myself into your hands. With a broken heart and a broken back, I grabbed hold of the hem of your garment. I cried out every anguishing sorrow. I had lost my peace and my joy. I held on to the one thing I could count on...my faith. Although my well nearly dried up, I still knew where to go for a drop of water. I drank and trusted from my bed.

It is now nearly four years since my life's greatest struggle began. Today I realize how much has changed, how much I have changed. I have learned so many life lessons, too many to count. I have been humbled, drawn down. I have sought help from others. I have been refined, my faith shaken and strengthened at the same time. I have learned about trust as life's greatest pathway to salvation. I have discovered open doors and a new landscape. I have watched my life's deepest darkness roll into a light ever deeper. I have found a ground upon which to stand. I let my roots down. I have trusted like never before because my whole world was rapidly changing. I let go only to reclaim myself in a new and different way. I woke up to new realizations, accepted revealed truths, took responsibility, became more transparent, found greater resources and walked, no at times crawled in faith. I whispered your name thousands of times.

And so today in the middle of Advent, I am acknowledging the meaning of the season in my bones. I too am anticipating, waiting for this birthing process to come to its natural conclusion. My brother told me just yesterday that he is watching the return of my joy.

Guide me,
O Great Jehovah,
to joy,
not the
temporal place
of happiness
but rather
to that
eternal place
where joy
continuously bubbles up.
Keep praise
on my lips
that I
may ever
give you praise.
Let my heart
beat in rhythm
with yours
that I
may sense
eternity's joy
and then allow
that same joy
to spill over
into creation.

With a grateful heart, Andrea