After leaving a painful job that left me spiritually and emotionally drained, I was so preoccupied with my experience that it was difficult to see very far down the road. Somewhere in the middle of my trying job situation, I stopped believing that God could give me anything greater than the life of torment that I had been living for several years. Day after day, I was bullied and emotionally battered by the three men with whom I worked. After being in this painful situation for such a long time, I lost sight of the idea that God could rescue me, and that He might use all of those experiences for His good. A friend had a banner made for me with the scripture, “For we walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7). This verse became a lifesaver for me as I tried to pull myself out of the drowning thoughts that plagued me.

Deep down I was hurt and angry with God. How could He allow men of God to treat me, a woman of God, so cruelly? How could he allow them to spiritually and emotionally abuse me day after day? Why did he allow them to take the blinders off my eyes? The blinders allowed me to believe that all of God’s people have pure hearts. Why did he allow me to be persecuted for serving him?

Sometimes when bad things happen we begin to question God’s mercy and grace. I remember very clearly a particular morning. I was driving along a beautiful country road on my way to work. The sun was coming up through the trees and I was fretting, crying and praying about enduring another day of torment. The Holy Spirit said to me, “If they tortured the King of Kings, mocking him, hurling rocks and throwing insults, why wouldn’t they do it to you?” I did not feel like I was in a position to leave my pastorate, as my ministry fed and clothed thousands of families. The ministry that I had collaborated with God to build was, in fact, practically its own church, and I nurtured the spiritual growth and well being of its flock. I knew that if I left, the ministry would fold and would affect the lives of people I had cared for.

Daily, I prayed in the quiet of my office for God to show me a way out. I prayed that He would lead me down a new path. I prayed to Him to release me from the stress and trauma of abusive relationships in the Church. I prayed for the welfare of the thousands of people who saw me as their pastor, even though they did not attend church. I prayed that God would continue to provide for the beautiful children I had met and ministered to, making sure they had food in their tummies and warm coats and new shoes for school each fall. The whole of it… the abuse and the thought of leaving were too much for me to handle on my own. God had asked me to serve Him in this ministry, and He was providing more than I ever imagined.

While praying one morning, crying, stuffed-up nose and wadded-up tissues, God spoke to me in a loud and audible voice. “You are released.” I will never forget the calm that came over me, and I instantly knew it was going to be okay. I resigned from my position that morning. I did not know what God had planned for me, nor did I know how my flock would be taken care of physically, spiritually and emotionally. Those things were not up to me. I was just a vessel. God is the master. It was difficult for me to release the ministry and the people whom I had grown to love, but I trusted that God was bigger than me. He always has a plan.

We all go through seasons of struggle, perhaps times when we cannot see what lies ahead. We cannot even begin to imagine what it would look like if our lives were suddenly changed. If you are in the middle of a storm in your life, fighting a battle and praying for direction, remember: “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” God does not always give us a clear path and we often have to walk through storms to get to green pastures, but He always has a plan. When you feel like you are drowning under the weight, do not lose sight of the fact that God can and will show you a way out. Here are some things I picked up along the bumpy path:

My experience of pain has given me in-depth insight into the sinful nature of man. When the blinders came off, I grew in wisdom. We cannot grow in wisdom when we walk around afraid to see things for what they really are, believing falsehoods. Through it, I became more grounded in my relationship with Christ and learned to look to him alone. I realized that I am strong. I experienced abuse and survived. There will always be evil in the world but there will always be good too. Look for the good.

Do not fear what you cannot see. Walk by faith. You are stronger than you know.

¹¹ For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

I sat down to enjoy a cup of cinnamon and ginger tea in the midst of my holiday preparations, which include rearranging furniture, dusting, purging unwanted items and making all things lovely; all part of filling my heart with gratitude for the CHRISTmas child.  Mug in hand, feet up on the old cedar chest positioned as a coffee table, I flip on the television. I normally don’t have enough hours in the day to sit and stare at the silly tube and truthfully, if it were up to me, I would not have one.

Previews of the news flash across the screen with last years images of people packed in like sardines, bodies touching bodies, elbows flinging as they race to be the first ones in the chain stores for Black Friday sales! The newscaster advised that these sales offer great benefit if you want big screen televisions, snow blowers, dvd players, pop corn poppers, cameras and everything else under fluorescent lights. A little grossed out and sickened by the whole making of Christmas a commercial commodity, I thought to myself, and may have even said aloud, “do these people not get it?”

In my lifetime, I have gone through seasons of lack and seasons of plenty. I have battled the keeping-up-with-the-Joneses mindset. I have gone through the 30-something angst that somehow my house and my car and my clothes showed my value. I have had businesses, some successful, some that have failed, climbed my way out of debt just to spiral right back down. What have I learned along the way? Life is best when it is simple.

A couple of years ago, our 150 year old house sustained some damage during a storm and we found ourselves having to move out of the lower half of the house while repairs were done. I was forced with the tough decision of having to put my beloved antiques and collectables in storage or selling them. I chose to sell everything. I wanted to rid myself of all the stuff weighing me down. When the repairs were complete on our house, we had no furniture. A relative donated a loveseat and ottoman, which sat in the living room in a big, open space all by themselves for months. I could finally see the beauty and craftsmanship of our old floors.

Why do we identify the keeping of stuff as worthiness? When difficult things happen in our lives, we begin to see more clearly the things that really matter…and I’ll give you a hint…it isn’t things. No sisters, what really matters is getting right with God in your heart and in your head. Once you begin working on this, gratitude will begin to flow from your pores. What can compare to the death of a loved one, a family member with a debilitating illness or a missing person in your family? Seriously, if you are strong enough to weather storms like this, you know that the big screen television is not as important as you once thought.  You will know that no matter how much money you waste, trying to fill the hole in your heart with things, you are still hungry. You will know that what matters are the old black and white photos you hang on the wall of your grandma and grandpa kissing in front of the Christmas tree. And you will know that what really matters is the curve of a face in your memory or words that were spoken that you will keep for a lifetime because they encouraged you.

Christmas should not be about things. The first gifts – the ones that were brought to the manger by three wise men – were gifts of awe and gratitude. They knew that a Savior was born, One who would change the hearts of many. One who would redeem the messed up world in which we live. One who could…if we let him, bring peace.

We don’t do Christmas in a big way. We keep it simple and reflect upon the true meaning. White lights, like the stars that were shining that special night, and a few brown paper packages. As I dust the 100-year-old dining room table and put in an extra leaf or two, I give thanks. As I sweep the dust bunnies I find hidden under the loveseat, I give thanks. As I shine the bathroom vanity, mop the tile floor and swab the toilet bowl, I give thanks. Setting out my Christmas candles, I give thanks. Lighting the tree for the first time this season, I give thanks. As I pull out the old cardboard box filled with a hand carved wooden manger scene and the baby Jesus, I give thanks. I am preparing my heart for Christmas, the most significant day of my year. The birth of the Christ child.

We gather. We spend precious moments together, breaking bread, celebrating the joy in our hearts at the birth of hope.This is all we need.This is what really matters.

 As the last of the leaves fall, fluttering down to the cold, damp earth, I notice a rose bush standing alone amidst a pool of color  at her feet. Leggy, she reaches toward the sun, holding on to the hope that the cold will not soon come—that the breezy days of summer will somehow stretch just a little longer. I shiver under the layers of clothing I have donned to keep the grasp of cold from reaching deep down into my bones.

A tear of joy and a twinge of sadness blanket my face when I see my elderly neighbor bundled up like a snowman, pruning shears in hand. She is clipping the last of dying flowers and roses from her garden and hands me a beautiful bouquet. “Julia Child roses for you, Mary. She still has some left in her… look at the glorious blooms. She doesn’t want to give up.“

Day after day during the long months of winter, I see her sitting in the sunny window of her Victorian home. As day fades into night I see a single light. She is alone, looking out the window. In the crisp, cold air I dig furiously to plant dozens of white tulips facing her window so she will have something beautiful to see in the spring. During the long winter months of darkness, she will have something for which to hope. She says she dreams of her garden to get her through the long months of solitude. She tells me, “Each autumn I say to myself, “my garden is going to be the best ever this spring.” In addition, I believe her. Gardeners plant hope. With our hands we dig the earth. We plant a seed in the ground, and we bury it in hope. After long months of waiting, we believe a beautiful flower will emerge. New life, and joy.

“Come, let me tell you my story, Mary. My father was a missionary. We traveled all over the world. I ran away at 15. You see, my mother never loved me and my father loved me too much.“

I watched her beautiful, silver hair glistening with the sunlight behind her and her hands worn with years… of tending, pruning, page turning, living. I felt the cold reaching inside trying to get me. My heart cries as she shares her story with me, aches at the depth of her woundedness carried into old age, shaping her days, shaping her life.

Are we all like the leggy rose bush, standing in the cold, damp earth with beauty falling gently around us, landing at our feet? What happens when we reach toward the SON? “Julia Child roses for you, Mary. She still has some left in her…look at the glorious blooms. She doesn’t want to give up.” Despite long seasons of winter and discontent in our lives, dark days and the feelings of being alone and isolated, we have a Father. One who loves us, and His love can never be too much because it is Perfect Love. His Perfect Love casts out all fears, the kind of fears that would cause us to bury the beauty of our souls in days and years of solitude. Fortresses, walls of safety built by wounded hearts…”my mother never loved me…and my father loved me too much“…kind of walls.

Inwardly, I shed tears of joy and tears of sadness that I have made a friend with a beautiful but wounded soul. We have connected on a plane that is visible only through the loving eyes of God. He shows us the heart wounds, cuts to the core and reaches down into our bones. The lady with the stories and silver hair says, “my garden is going to the best ever this spring“, and I believe her. Gardens are better when shared with friends.  She uses her soul wounds to create something beautiful: new life, hope, reaching toward the sun (Son), her testimony planting seeds, defying darkness. Digging for seeds of faith and looking for a Father while mothering her garden with a motherly love that she never knew. “She still has some left in her…look at the glorious blooms.” God can reach down into the cold of our bones, the chilling, low, dark and scary places and turn them into roses, turn them into beauty falling all around us. In the faces we meet, the things we see, how we see them, transforming the wounded child inside of each of us into something that displays His splendor. All gardens, real or imagined. The things we plant, nurture and grow in our minds can become beautiful flowers, new life and joy.

His Love Casts Out Fear.

His Love Tears Down Walls.

His Love Heals Wounded Hearts.

His. Love. Plants. Hope.

In the darkness of your soul, keep the Light on. Keep it on through the cold, damp days of your winter. This too shall pass…”she still has some left in her“, “she doesn’t want to give up.”

Reach for the Son.