The Way That Heals

Something that I think about a lot is what I call "soul work."  Basically, it's the belief that each of us has a unique task of dealing with who we are.  Our issues.  Some of these issues are genetic -- we're just wired that way.  And some are learned -- influenced by our families, our surroundings, and our experiences.  And if we try to dodge this work on this side of eternity, it will still be there when we die.  (That's just what I believe.)  Some folks think that death brings with it some sort of "get out of jail free" card. After all, Jesus died for us and so all the heavy lifting for our wrongdoing has already been done.  We're home free!  Well, this may be true where our shortcomings and mistakes are concerned, but it doesn't wipe out our pre-assigned soul work (again, just my opinion).  So get to work!

I was listening to our senior pastor today share the story of a preacher friend who had a life-changing accident.  He was working on a house and fell through the roof, breaking his back and rendering him paralyzed from the waist down.  Grieving from this horrible turn of events, the pastor friend asked his mentor, why did this happen?  

I can't tell you how many times I used to ask this question in my younger life.  Nor can I recount how many times I have heard others say these same words.  But I don't think that way anymore.  Today, it makes more sense that God (who is way smarter than I am and wants me to be transformed) offers us the opportunity to make use of everything (yes, everything!) that happens in our lives to complete our soul work, which I believe brings about total healing and transformation.  

Consider these words of Jesus:  
"Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it." (Matthew 7:13-14)

Yes, I know it makes more sense to interpret these words as a warning against lawless and loose living.  But I think we can just as easily apply it to the idea of soul work.  Choosing to do the hard work of looking at ourselves, being honest with who we are and how we show up, sitting with it, accepting it, and having the humility to say to God each day, "I need help" is a narrow way.  It's definitely a choice.  And it's definitely not a path that everyone is willing to take.  But it is the way that heals.  

As I've already said, do the work now or do it later, but mark my words, you will do the work!

I've been reading the Book of Acts every morning.  Yesterday, I read the part where Paul has been arrested in Jerusalem and he is explaining to the Roman officials why the Jews are so set against him.  In recounting his conversion, Paul characterized the "Road to Damascus" experience as one in which he heard, saw, and knew the Lord.  I had never noticed that before and I thought, that is really remarkable! It brought to mind my desire to experience the presence of Jesus, to know him and not just know of him, to hear his voice in an audible fashion.  Yet this has not often been my experience.  Sure, I believe I have had supernatural experiences of his presence.  I even had a vision once while serving communion.  But it's not an everyday occurrence; at least not on the level of Paul's "Road to Damascus" experience.  And I'm not certain I've ever experienced an audible voice.   It's more like a thought that definitely did not find its source in me.  Or a reading that is so spot on to what I was just telling the Lord about, that it is uncanny!  

I'm sharing all of this because our soul work is made all the more difficult, I believe, by our limited abilities on this side of eternity to have "close encounters" with God.  Paul referred to these limitations this way:  "For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known" (1 Corinthians 13:12).  This reality once frustrated me to no end.  I crave His presence, yet I feel mostly deprived of it.  "Lord, if you would just appear before me and tell me in the clearest terms possible what to do and how to respond, this would all be so much easier and productive." (But then it wouldn't be the narrow way, would it?)

Today, I take great comfort in these words of Thomas of Kempis, who wrote: "For my eyes could not bear to look upon Thee in Thy own divine brightness; nay, the whole world could not stand in the splendor of the glory of Thy majesty ... Here I have and adore Him whom the angels adore in heaven; but I see Him as yet by faith...."  

It is not because of some shortcoming or character defect on my part per se that my real-time experiences of the Lord's presence seem limited, fleeting or even non-existent.  No, it is just the way things are.  And perhaps as my desire for Him grows stronger, so too does my dependence, knowing that clinging to Him provides the greatest chance of these holy glimpses here and there that soothe my soul, that shape my perceptions, that strengthen my spirit.

I have one more thought to share for now about the way that heals.  It's a process that requires me not only to seek the Lord with all that I am while bearing in mind that I "see" him mostly by faith, but also to be really good to myself.  To truly love myself in the process.

Here's what the progression in the way that heals has been like for me over time. It begins as reading and praying and meditating each day, noticing how the Lord reveals truths to me.  Some of these truths are hard to accept, because they tend to be about my rough edges. Seeing them stings. So then, to cope with the sting, I began writing, "Thank you God for awareness."   (In fact, were you to read my gratitude journal, you would see that nearly every day, I write these words.)  Ultimately, though, I began to write, "Thank you God for loving awareness."  Learning to see myself for who I am and to love myself all the same brought about even more healing (especially when I constantly reminded myself of my beloved-ness in God's eyes, to quote Henri Nouwen).  

I better wrap this up and put a bow on top.  

Every day, we ask God for guidance and trust that we receive it, in whatever way God chooses to reveal it.  We pray for loving awareness of who we are. When we go off the path and start running the show again, we look to the power and mercy of the Spirit to return us to our dependence on God. Every day, bit by but, we hone the holy practice of finding life and purpose and meaning in Him alone.  

This is the way that heals.

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