Beware the Perils of Unpacking - 2
(Because I didn't know surrender could or would come as easily or smoothly), I failed to recognize the unintended (and certainly unplanned) spiritual miracle that had manifested. Granted, I'd finally surrendered to creating an orderly storage space that might deplete the reservoir of energy I'd squandered over procrastinated years. Had I forgotten that change begins first in the spirit (or unseen), not in the natural (or seen)? Had I ever really thought about it? Had it ever been more than an ambitious home project?
"For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways," says the Lord. "For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are my ways higher than your ways. And My thoughts than your thoughts," Isaiah 55:8-9. My unlikely surrender marked the first of God's intentional miracles!
Initially, I didn't receive the spirit of discernment (because I didn't recognize it). Yet, a Know-ing-ness quietly descended over me during the six weeks I cleared, organized, tossed, sweated over, discarded, removed, cleaned, released, and restored the garage to my 18-year-old recollection. Later, the garage became a metaphor for the spirit, soul, and body of what constituted me! God guided me on an incredible pathway to discernment, understanding, trust, and belief. To hope, release, and receive.
Our Father gently showered me with the indisputable power of His love. He solved problems before I even knew it. He made "a way out of no way," normal. When 90-degree heat became unbearable, He taught me how to "rest," in Him. He taught me, "Only believe; only believe, all things are possible if you only believe."
Our Father held me safe as I finally gathered the courage to open and read letters, notes, and special day cards Courtney had sent over decades that I'd buried in the deepest recesses of the garage and my heart. I could neither look at, much less read anything about her after she died, nor for the six years since Heaven became her zip code. Sitting in that sweltering garage, God restored hope and empowered me to embrace and thank Him for entrusting her to me for a season.
I'd sit in that suffocating garage and spontaneously, one of Mother's standbys would spring forth. I'd sing, "Lord, I thank you, thank You, thank You. Yes, I thank You, thank You, thank You. Lord, I thank You all the days of my life..." I still did not fully understand what was happening. But I spent the next six weeks, six days each week from sun up to sun down, clearing, packing, shredding, digging deep, and wading through redemptive waters. I still hadn't fully received the fullness of God-directed introspection.
Father God directed my safe passage through the landmines of physical and spiritual grief and loss. As monumentally, He unearthed the spiritual taproot of what, for years, had paralyzed me: False, Evidence. Apppearing. Real. Fear. While I toiled relentlessly in that hot garage, I didn't just grieve for Courtney, or Philp, my 22-month-old firstborn grandson who died of SIDS; or Elna, my beloved elder sister; or Mother and Daddy; or Walter and Jimmie, Jr., my two oldest brothers, among many other kinfolk and close friends.
From my earliest memories, 11 a.m. worship services at my parents' Protestant church cloaked me in fear. The pastor preached messages about forever burning in a lake filled with fire and brimstone. Of course, I had no way of knowing what "fire and brimstone" actually looked, smelled, or would feel like, too many of my childhood Sunday nights were sleepless. Fear of an eternal, fiery fury spread like an uncontainable forest fire into the essence of me. I grew up with a prevailing sense of foreboding. By the time I graduated from elementary school, fear had become a constant, encroaching companion.
Until I began physically cleaning my garage, I hadn't understood that I feared everything; yet, I was unaware of its presence or strength. Fear felt natural. Only when God opened my spiritual eyes could I see fear, although I had always felt it. "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and a sound mind" (2 Timothy 1:6).
Fear is a spirit, and can only be battled in the spirit, as a spirit. Worldly weapons cannot defeat the devil, who rules the Earth. No! The devil never fights fairly. He rules as a wily, murderous, vicious, deceitful, lying adversary! (To put it mildly). And while I had memorized 2 Timothy 1:6,7, as a preteen, I didn't have a clue then, nor as a full-grown woman what Apostle Paul had meant when he had counseled Timothy, the young preacher.
Thus. after six days a week, nonstop, in temperatures ranging from 80 to 100 degrees, the scales began to fall from my eyes. I started hearing as well as seeing God and His handiwork. Klieg-sized lights lit the sky of my mind. and I understood. " For we do not wrestle with flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers against the rulers and the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places" (Ephesians 6: 11-13).
I still remember feeling reassured when the Mississippi Mass Choir sang years ago,, "I'm free, praise the Lord I'm free. I am no longer bound, no more chains holding me. My soul is resting; it's just another blessing. praise the Lord, Hallelujah, I'm free!" True dat.
Comments
Post a Comment