Do We Take Steps or Make Prisons?

It happened so many years ago. Honestly, it was one of those memories that was buried and forgotten. It wasn’t a pleasant memory, but I thought I had completely dealt with it, until I realized, there was more.

I was in fifth grade and looking forward to leaving the elementary school and entering junior high school. But my parents (mostly) and I (who asked for it initially) decided I was no longer going to continue in the public school system; I was going to transfer to a small, local Christian school. I had struggled with relationship dynamics on and off at the public school system (who doesn’t?) for years at this point and just wanted out.

Don’t get me wrong, I had friends. I had a group of girls I got along with and enjoyed playing with on the playground. I even had a best friend in my class with whom I spent summers and an occasional weekend. But I’m a sensitive person with a big heart who feels things deeply, so even though I had friends, there were still hurtful things said and done by others that made me want to escape. After years of my asking, and I’m sure a lot of prayer on the part of my parents, the decision was made that when I entered junior high, I would leave the public school system and go to the Mennonite school down the road from my house.

Maybe that was it. I’ll probably never know for sure. Maybe my best friend was worried about entering a whole new junior high world where all the district’s elementary schools melted together into one building, and concerned about a new “pecking order.” Who knows. But whatever the reason, shortly after I (excitedly) announced to her that I was not going to be attending the same school with her that fall everything changed.

At first, I barely noticed. She was less available to hang out. The swings next to her were always taken. We didn’t talk on the phone as frequently or as long. Then, the big one hit. She stopped sitting with me at lunch. Then, it got worse. I began to hear whispers of how we were no longer best friends, but my neighbor down the road was her best friend instead. I remember asking her about it, and she denied ever saying that. Yet, somehow, everyone else in the class agreed that she had indeed made that statement. Then, it got even worse. Somehow, it seemed like the entire class knew my secrets. Secrets I had only shared with one person. Secrets I had only shared with this person who said I was still her best friend yet no longer had an interest in talking with me or spending time with me, a friend who had clearly shared all my deepest thoughts with everyone else.

Oh, how it hurt! I remember one night in particular, I cried, whole body sobbing, tears flowing freely, while my mom held me and prayed. She spoke words that she hoped would bring comfort and strength, but honestly, I have no idea what she said. But I do remember is that she prayed and prayed and prayed with me and for me.

This is the memory I thought I dealt with completely. I had initially tried to just forget about it and let “time heal all wounds,” but it became apparent toward the end of high school that this was simply not going to be the case for this one.

I worked through forgiveness. It was hard. I remember poignantly, how hot and salty the tears were as I relived this season of my life and the emotions flooded back as though they had just happened. I remember feeling all the feels again and in that place, choosing to let go and begging God to lift it from me because I didn’t think I had enough shmutz to do it myself. And guess what…

God is so faithful! He did it! He lifted the anger and bitterness from me in that moment and surrounded me with His love. I remember feeling so free, so light, so peaceful. Yes, it was a bad situation, but I knew—and not a head knowledge knowing, but instead a revelatory knowing in the deepest parts of my soul—that God was bigger than the situation, and His love was stronger than my pain.

And so, the memory was buried. Again. But this time, it was free of the constant, sharp emotional jabs that continued to wound me subconsciously. But then, something happened, a situation that felt dangerously close to little fifth-grade Debbie, which made me realize a deeper work still had to be done.

Yes, I had walked through releasing the anger, yes, I had a revelation that God’s love was bigger than my pain, but I had not learned to also release grace and blessing in the midst of fresh hurt. I had not truly learned how to live in honor even when hurt, regardless of whether the hurt was inflicted purposefully or not. Now, I’ll be completely honest here. It took a few weeks of wrestling with God and multiple nights of tear-soaked pillows before I realized the value of releasing His grace and blessing even in the midst of pain.

Why? Why would God ask us to do this? Doesn’t He understand our hurt? Doesn’t He understand it’s hard—maybe even impossible? He does. He does understand, more deeply than we could ever imagine. Remember, He was betrayed too. He had relationships severed too. He had hurtful words and actions hurled in His direction too. But how does He respond? With compassion. With kindness. With blessing. With grace.

What I found when I—again, to be brutally honest—finally got over myself, was that choosing blessing and grace in this situation brought freedom to myself. If I had allowed myself to continue to wallow in the hurt, that situation would have become a prison to me. Instead, through obedience to God’s loving, patient guidance in my heart, it became a step. When I chose to allow God to forge in me a deeper experiential level of His grace, that situation was simply my next step toward godly character and rather than being a place of crippling hurt, it became a place of empowerment.

So, yes, God understands! He understands how to empower us to live in freedom and walk with His authority. He doesn’t want those hurtful situations to take a position of power in our lives and become a prison to us. He wants to be the only authority in our lives, and He wants us to thrive in His presence and power, not just gimp along in life.

It’s not easy. Sometimes—and maybe a lot of the times—it’s messy. And, I’d say that from my experience, in and of myself, it’s impossible. But God doesn’t call us to do things we can do on our own. Instead, He calls us to live a life that takes faith. It takes believing that God’s ways and the other side are better than what I’ve got right now. It takes trusting that God is able to empower me to do it. It takes complete dependence upon Him, moment by moment.

Thank God we serve the God of the impossible! Thank God we serve a God Who loves us enough to patiently draw us forward, deeper into His grace and into greater measures of freedom! Thank God we serve a God of wisdom, kindness, and compassion Who never stops loving us into wholeness. Let’s continue to take those steps, one by one, deeper into His freedom and grace by trusting His wisdom, even when we don’t feel like it and even when we don’t understand it.