Around eleven months ago, I was sitting alone at a worship service for young adults at my church, listening to my pastor continue his series on Romans. I was present at this service somewhat regularly and truly looked forward to the teaching each week and the time spent worshiping through music. I also very much enjoyed that I could attend alone and keep to myself apart from distant pleasantries and polite surface conversations when they were forced on me.
So there I was in that chair, one row from the back, on the aisle ready for a quick exit. We were supposed to be finishing Romans chapter 8 but once the pastor read verse 28 he paused. He decided then to focus on only that verse. What immediately caught my attention was my pastor’s willingness to change his plan based on the prompting of the Holy Spirit. I’ve never been good at going “off-plan” even when I feel strongly that I should. I developed a plan for a reason, and how on earth would anything get accomplished if we all just scrapped our plans all the time? But my pastor yielded to God’s plan over his own, and as dramatic as it sounds, my life has not been the same since.
Romans 8:28 says “and we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” My pastor broke this verse down piece by piece, and I’ll never forget him looking directly at me while saying “in all things”. Granted, he repeated it many times and probably made eye contact with half the people in the room, but it resonated deeply within me. Feelings that I had numbed for over 15 years began to stir. The rest of the night I tried to pay attention but couldn’t focus on anything but “in all things”. For the next week, it was all I could focus on. I read that verse over and over and became angrier and angrier. There are some things that are not good; that cannot be good. But then it doesn’t say “in all things there is good”, it says “God works for the good”. And if God is willing to work for the good in my life, why aren’t I? Who am I to tell the God of the universe that His work isn’t worth the effort?
So began the nearly year-long journey of healing I’m progressing through now. It’s a funny thing, progress. Because when I started this, I was a 25-year-old strong, independent woman who had life pretty well figured out. True, I didn’t have close friendships, but I didn’t need them. True, I didn’t emote or relate in any way that wasn’t purely logical, but emotions denote weakness, so who needs them? I was a survivor. I was comfortable. I was fine. Now I’m 26 and don’t have a thing in the world figured out. I’m learning to process emotions I haven’t felt since age 10. Every second of every day I feel something: anger, contempt, guilt, sadness, hopelessness, fear…Having spent 60% of my life in relative numbness, I don’t know how to manage these feelings. I’m 10 years old again but living in a world where I’m expected to relate and react as a 26-year-old. And yet this is progress.
Eleven months ago I had a plan. I would work through the issues that I have, giving myself plenty of time to process things, and be done and on to a newer, better me in 6 months. Rather than being 5 months into this newer, better me, I feel like I’m still at square 1. There have been changes. I realize that independence is not something to strive for, but instead complete dependence on the grace of Christ. I know that in order to actually be strong I have to be weak and allow Christ’s strength to be perfected in my weakness. I understand that relating emotionally to others is a reflection of God’s love and compassion toward me and is the key to fulfilling relationships.
All these things I know, but still haven’t a clue how to make them reality in my life. I still don’t know how to trust God. It still makes me feel judged and vulnerable when I open up to other people. Most of the time I just want to go back to feeling numb again so I can stop hurting. Moving toward pain is completely contrary to intuition. I know reason, logic. I don’t know how to be a person who feels things. I’m walking headlong into the pain, praying to be broken down so that I may be restored. I am vulnerable and scared, and yet this is progress. What a paradox.
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