Thump thump. Thump thump. My heart was beating but I had felt dead for quite some time. How could I be alive but not feel? How could I have let it get this far where my emotions were so numb, that hearing the word joy was a distant dream I couldn’t remember? The wheels of the proverbial motions we go through were moving like clockwork so what was missing? Who came in and vacated my heart of its joy? And when?
The answer, I knew, was not overnight. It was a long, slow burn over decades of precious, lost moments that were sacrificed on the altar of appeasement and fear. Pleasing others in the name of love. Sure, I knew that there were major dysfunctions in the family and hurts and traumas that had not healed. How can a hurt heal when it’s not taken seriously? Ah the repercussions of living in a sinful world. I was the youngest and was expected to fall in line without ‘disrupting’ the ‘happy family’. Of course that meant ignoring my wounds. Not speaking up. And not being heard when I did. I’m not sure which is worse: fear of wrecking my (already broken) family, or fear of allowing myself to live. But I was a follower of Jesus and believed that I could, rather should, silently bear the pain. And fear paralyzes.
I would still probably be living in my chains of fear and sacrifice to the appeasement idol had it not been for the very voice of God that spoke into my broken heart: ENOUGH! In the turmoil of the latest family drama (trauma, depending on who you ask), my gracious Father spoke the word that I needed to be done with the crazy. I knew He was right. I knew it wasn’t working for me, or my family. But He knew and I knew that I needed Him to speak sense to me.
What I didn’t fully understand at the time was why. Why couldn’t I just go on in my oppressed state, stifling my own issues for the sake of keeping my family of origin “together”? I could understand why God, like any good father, would intervene to break up the children’s messy argument to protect but I didn’t truly understand why, after 5+ years of a mixture of counseling, trauma therapy, support group, and much prayer, I needed to walk away from my family of origin. It made sense that God was protecting me, but guilt continued to reign. Wasn’t I being unloving? How could I walk away from family? Wouldn’t it be easier to stay, and be blamed by others rather than by myself? But God had spoken, and I knew in my heart that I was where He wanted me. In signing up at church for the women’s bible study on Leviticus this year, I would unexpectantly find my answer to the ‘why?’:
“Consecrate yourselves and be holy, because I am the Lord your God. Keep my decrees and follow them. I am the Lord, who makes you holy”. ~Leviticus 20:7-8
Holy means to be set apart, separate, sacred. When I believed on the Lord Jesus Christ 30+ years ago, I became a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:16) and He “arrayed me in a robe of righteousness” (Isaiah 61:10). While I had been involved in ministries over the years and served Him overseas, my heart worshipped a different god: my family. Decades of unresolved issues had wreaked havoc on my heart. Fear and trauma reigned. I did and said anything to ‘keep peace’. Not exactly a fair trade: my life for your illusion of peace. While I loved Jesus, I was certainly not holy and set apart. For His glory and my good, that needed to change. I needed to learn that holiness before the Lord means that He requires all of me, and in His way. He sets the standard, not me. Idolatry takes place when we choose how, and how much of ourselves, to offer God.
“This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the Lord your God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him. For the Lord is your life, and he will give you many years in the land he swore to give to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob”. ~Deut.30:19
Understanding what holiness looked like, and commitment to working through the issues in my heart has helped to heal but I would miss the mark if I stopped there. God gave the Israelites a clear choice through Moses’s address: you can choose life, or you can choose death. There are different outcomes for each choice. While Moses’s message was directed specifically to the Israelites, the principle extends to us in the church (John 14:6) as we follow Jesus. The message is clear: HE IS OUR LIFE. By not choosing Jesus every day, we are choosing death (of some sort). And the consequences can be great.
I love how simple it is. Choosing to live is loving God, listening to his voice, and holding fast to Him. A relationship that blesses. A Father who truly loves.
Lately I have found that I breathe more deeply. Choosing life and holding fast to Jesus brings peace. Similar to someone’s vision that has been corrected and the wonder they experience as the fine details of leaves on trees is visible, I am beginning to see people and opportunities around me more and have strength to reach out. I see needs in the community that I can fill. Jesus is fully restoring me. And my missing joy? Of course it is found as I follow the Giver of all joy. Choosing to live is still a choice that I must deliberately choose multiple times a day, again and again. Who am I worshipping? What voice am I listening to? Who am I clinging to? But HIS faithfulness is great.
“But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it” (Matthew 7:14).
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