I met with a few friends last Wednesday evening to talk about life. In the process of our conversation one friend said something that cut straight through me. I felt this huge wave of grief sweep over me. The truth of hers words stuck with me for days. It felt hard not to twist it into proof of my burden on her; in fact I prayed for help because it was an all-together too familiar path for me. I wanted to allow the grief to remain, to see the impact my choices and my withdrawal have on her and on others. The process of staying in the brokenness and grief was a painful one.
It reminded me of the part of the story in
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader where Eustace is un-dragoned. The painful process in which Aslan tears off the deeper layers of dragon skin to reveal Eustace's true self.
"The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know--if you've ever picked a scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy--oh but it is such fun to see it coming away."
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C.S. Lewis
If you read the rest of the chapter here you would see that Eustace tried to remove the skin himself but was unable to do it. Only Aslan had the ability to remove what needed to be removed. I felt that way too. All my resources felt depleted and I had to entrust my journey to God.
It happened that my churches Women's Retreat was this past weekend. It’s kind of funny how it fell on the weekend after I had this conversation with my friends; I am sure it was God's hand. That along with the fact that I had already been asked at an earlier time to share my journey during the retreat left me feeling completely hemmed in by him.
During our first session they asked us to find our Red Dot. You know, the red dot on the map at the mall that shows where you are located. Where was I at, internally? I was spiritually, physically and emotionally exhausted. I felt undone, provoked, exposed, grieved, and broken. I had no resources to change anything and I felt totally at God's mercy; but yet deeper than all that I longed to be able to love others despite the turmoil going on in my own soul. My cry was “Mercy Father, Mercy!”
I tried to go to bed early Friday night since I hadn't gotten much sleep the two nights prior to the retreat. I slept from 10:30-12:30. Then I kept waking up on and off for the next four hours, finally getting up at 4:20am feeling totally exhausted. In hindsight, I believe this was yet another act of God. He was continuing to deplete me of my resources, leaving me totally dependent on him.
For two hours I didn't see anyone. I sat in the meeting area and prayed. I read Philippians and gathered my thoughts for the morning session. I felt at peace with what I would be sharing later that morning, but I still did not feel at peace with the words that had been spoken to me by my friend on Wednesday night.
She attended the retreat also and it seemed that every time I interacted with her I felt a tension or an awkwardness in it. It was literally breaking my heart. I felt utterly unable to fix it on my own. I remember going into communion at the end of the retreat feeling broken and so desperately in need of his mercy. I wept and prayed in my brokenness; I allowed his mercy to sweep over me.
It was following this time of communion that God orchestrated a few minutes for me to talk with her; to put words to what was grieving my soul. I felt utterly grateful to God in that moment. It was only by his movement and power that I was able to freely talk with her.
For those few minutes I was free of the relational bondage that she had so truthfully spoken of to me in her words on Wednesday night. I was un-dragoned and clothed by Him in something beautiful that revealed a bit of the true Dawn. What a gift! Not only for me but for her as well.
I remember thinking on the way home that this was the first retreat with my church (and I have gone to quite a few) that I have really enjoyed. I was exposed, exhausted and aware of the impact in my relational choices on others, but I was also engaged and aware of others around me. I didn't hide, withdraw or bolt and oddly enough I really didn't want to. It was really different for me. I didn't know that I could hold all those things at once. I feel so grateful!
Thank-you to those men who fought in WWII: Ralph Stull. Bob Stull. LeRoy Ratliff. Max Ratliff. Billy Ratliff (died in Battle of Leyte Gulf). Thank-you to those men who fought in Korea: Dick Hendges. Thank-you to those men who fought in Vietnam: Lee Guckenberg. Carl Lehman.
