"The enemy has pursued my soul; he has crushed my life to the ground, he has made me sit in darkness like those long dead. Therefore my spirit faints within me; my heart within me is appalled." (Psalm 143:3-4)
Those words from David the Psalmist are the obvious result of deep crisis. David had a number of life events that could have produced them, but he's not alone. I've been there. Everyone I know has been there at least once. We've all tasted of this place of crisis, not just in the physical life being threatened, but the place where the soul is at the brink of death. The place where thoughts, emotions, decision making, they've all been brought past the point of pain to the shadows where only numbness resides.
And it's there that we have an invitation. Two, actually.
When we find ourselves in the shadowland, the valley filled with such thick fog that we can not find the face of our Savior, we can choose to accept the invitation to set up camp and become a permanent resident, or we can start climbing out.
The first invitation comes from the one who brought you there in the first place. The one who has pursued you, crushed your life, and made you sit in the darkness. He's the one who constantly reminds you of the faintness of your own heart with words that never suggest you'll ever be anything but appalled at your own life.
But, the second invitation, the one that is harder to find, harder to open, and harder to accept? It comes from the lover of your soul, and it's the one David sent in his RSVP for in the very next verse.
"I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done; I ponder the works of your hands. I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land.....for your name's sake, O Lord, preserve my life. Bring my soul out of trouble." (Psalm 143:8,11)
The invitation is to remember, and by remembering to climb out of the darkness that makes you think life has always been this way and will always be this way. Remembering what He's done and the many times He has already saved your soul in the past is the act of turning on the light, and stretching out your hands for His presence and asking Him to meet you again is taking the first step out of the shadowlands.
So, today, if you are in that place where your soul is in danger, where you can not see Him and you don't feel anything at all, remember.
Remember the way He met you for the first time.
Remember the way He changed everything.
Remember the way He spoke to you kindly.
Remember the way He provided when you thought there was nothing in your future but lack.
Remember the way He gave you the answer before you ever even thought to ask.
Remember the way He held you when no one else even knew you cried.
Remember the way He carried you through the storm you couldn't stand in.
Remember the way He answered the cry of your heart with His presence.
And after you remember, wait for His presence again. Stretch out your arms and call. And let Him bring your soul out of trouble.
You have not always been here. You will not always be here. Your soul will live again.
More than 2,000 years ago, the Jewish people were waiting and watching for their war hero. The one who would redeem them from Roman rule and free them to be a nation unto themselves. They were looking for a revolutionary.
And they got Him. Just not the one they were expecting.
Because Jesus didn't come to fight wars against flesh and blood. He came to break His flesh and spill His blood so that all men can be free from the rule of sin.
All men.
And all women.
Because if there was any area in which Jesus revolutionized the culture He lived in, it was in the way He interacted with women. When the angel Gabriel came to Mary to tell her she had been chosen to carry the Son of God, that slip of a girl didn't have a voice in her own culture. She had virtually no rights in the eyes of the law and very few in the eyes of her spiritual leaders. She was a small piece of the lowest class in her world, not just because of the financial status she was born into, but simply because she was born a woman.
And yet, she was the first person God invited to the baby shower of His only child.
And there were many others. So many women who got an invitation. Wealthy women like Mary and Martha and Joanna. Demon possessed women like Mary Magdalene. Poor women like the widows of Nain and Zerapheth, the woman with the issue of blood, a crippled woman bent double, and a forgotten woman holding two pennies. Little girls like Jairus' daughter. And old women like Peter's mother in law. Even women the world passionately despised, like the one caught in adultery who was drug to the town square to be stoned until Jesus stepped in.
Women from all walks of life. He saw them all. And His eyes saw past their physical appearance to their needs and to their worth.
For thirty-three years, He showed the world how a man is to treat a woman. He never shamed them. He never demeaned them. He never treated them with anything other than honor.
My Jesus, a revolutionary. The One who is still issuing invitations to every woman in the world. The One who hears and the One who sees every single little girl, the ones known and the ones forgotten, the ones who are treasured and the ones thrown away.
My Jesus, a healer. The One who has taken the sin of mankind upon His shoulders, so that the wounds of women and the wounds of men can be healed.
My Jesus, a king. The One who will make all things new.
"When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul." - Psalms 94:19
I commented to my husband this morning that with my poor gardening skills, weeds are the only thing that seem to grow for me without a great deal of effort. He responded, "That's true for everyone. I've never heard anybody say, 'Man, I just can't keep those roses out of my yard!'"
Our conversation made me laugh, but the truth of it is ringing in my soul today. The seeds that need to grow in my heart are often the ones I neglect, while the crops that spring up without any care on my end are the ones I really don't want to be harvesting.
Especially the seeds of worry.
I don't have to work hard to get a worry harvest. It seems to come faithfully, all by itself. And what an abundant crop it can be, multiplying again and again from one small, errant thought.
It's why Psalm 94:19 is such a balm to my heart.
When my anxious thoughts are threatening to stomp out all of the life within my soul, He comes like the gentle gardener that He is.
And prunes.
And burns.
And breathes.
And nurtures.
And grows.
What a relief to give Him the harvest I do not want today, and receive instead the beautiful fruit in His outstretched hand.
I have wrestled with how to share of what impacted me the deepest in India. I have even wondered if I should. Because I will not be able to relay the beauty of what God is doing in the lives of the broken there, hidden in a city of twenty two million people.
But, I feel I must try. Because people need to know.
The current statistic for people who are suffering from human trafficking worldwide is 27 million people. But, there is no statistic that can even come close to communicating the depth of pain in the face of one woman caught in the sex trade. And there is no number that can describe the innocence lost of her child now being brought up in an orphanage with AIDS. There are no graphs or charts that can move the heart with the enormity of injustice more than seeing it with your own eyes.
And that's what I saw.
I saw women whose bodies have been freed, still working out the freedom of their souls.
I saw children who have been snatched out of harm's way, only to fight for their lives from disease.
I saw courageous warriors who are risking everything to save those who have no voice.
And I saw so many more who need to be fought for. So many more...
If you've ever wondered if the seemingly small things you do to help fight social injustice really help, let me be one voice to say they do. I saw what transformations are happening in the lives of the broken with the help of ordinary people just like you and me. And they are transformations on such a deep, profound level that I am honored to be counted in the host of people who are joining together to say human trafficking must end, and I will help end it.
So, don't grow weary in the helping, my friend. If you've never given of your time or money to use your voice for those who have none, find a group you can support. There are many wonderful people around the world who are doing the work and just need our resources to take it to the next level. If you already have a group to support, don't stop. Lives are depending on you.
So remember them. Don't forget them.
Because God hasn't.
And what he remembers should be remembered by me.
Author's Note: Here is a list of Christian ministries I am aware of that are currently actively helping those who have escaped or are trying to escape the sex trafficking trade. If you need a place to invest in, these would be a good place to start.
Sower of Seeds International
Rescue Her
Eternal Threads
"God sets the lonely in families." (Psalm 68:6)
I read it again this morning. And how true it is.
For He looks upon the broken, the rejected, the cast-aside, and He claims them as his own.
He sees the pain of the wounded heart, the fearful, the shamed, and He says, "This one is mine."
But He doesn't stop with "just" redemption. He goes a step further...
He finds the one that will fit with another, and he brings hearts together.
He pieces the heart that vowed "never again" with another jagged edge, and together they heal.
This is my God!
I have witnessed His tenderness in lives all around me, as they have been grafted in to more than they ever dreamed possible.
The woman with no family who found a Godly husband late in life.
The man whose wife had left him and would not heed his pursuit for reconciliation, who now can't stop smiling as he looks at the second chance who thinks he hung the moon.
The divorced friend who had never known the love of a church family, until now.
The couple who tried for years to conceive, and now raise two precious ones that came into their arms through the joy of adoption.
And one who is very dear to my heart--my mother. She, who thought life was over with a husband who did not want her and a baby just six months old. She, who smiles triumphantly on the arm of the stepfather who raised me. She, who knows that even the pain of rejection can be healed under the oil that flows from His hand. She, who will soon celebrate thirty-four years of marriage to a man who looks at her as if she is the most desirable woman on earth.
God sets the lonely in families.
And it's that God who calls us to join Him. To find the lonely. To bring them into the family. To wrap His arms around them through ours. To say, "You're wanted here." And to keep saying it until it is believed.
For several years now, my husband and I have carried around a large burden of guilt and shame. And it all stemmed from owning a dog.
We had paid good money for an adorable puppy, even traveling to an airport three hours away to pick her up. We had brought her home, introduced her to the eager children who had been begging for a dog, and bought all kinds of doggie supplies. And then our lives had promptly fallen apart.
We couldn't train her to go outside to go potty.
We couldn't train her not to chew everything up.
We couldn't train her not to bite the kids.
We couldn't train her not to jump the fence and run away....every single day.
We were complete failures as dog owners.
And a year later, by the time I dreaded going home every day because I had to deal with her, I knew we were beat. We shame-facedly gave her away. And a few months later heard her new owners had trained her well and she was now a perfect little angel.
We were not only complete failures. We were complete failures who had funded someone else's dream dog.
And so, we believed that was the end of the story. We gave away all our doggie supplies. We bought a fish. We said never again.
But, there's something amazing about God's redemptiveness. He doesn't do "never agains" real well. He has a way of taking our vows and turning them upside down and bringing everything full circle. He has a way of making us forget our shame (Isaiah 54:4) and bringing us to new tables of joy.
Enter the angel of mercy who found her way into our carport one cold winter night, now over a month ago. We tried to find an owner, but without a collar and no one to answer our internet queries, we decided she was probably dumped in the pasture just a bit down the road from our house.
My heart was hard where her kind were concerned, but she was not deterred. She wore down my defenses with her soft velvet fur, her huge, kind eyes, and her ability to go potty outside. She made me love her further with her snuggles in the morning, her snuggles on my lunch break, and her snuggles on the couch at bedtime. She entwined herself around my heart with her kindness to my children.
We now own all new doggie supplies, along with a collar that reads "Sugar." And oh, how sweet she is. She has removed the shame in our house from past dog failures, and healed our hearts by becoming the member of the family we didn't know we were missing.
I'll need to remember that the next time I'm tempted to say "never again." Maybe failure isn't always the end. Maybe it's just a longer walk to the finish line.
