Black and Blue

Last week, I grabbed my phone and pulled up the song Black and Blue by the Counting Crows.  The last time I heard that song I was sitting on my living room floor, knees tucked under my chin, with tears streaming down my face. 

Although the song may appear to be about suicide, it's really not. It's about someone who is very fragile, and end of their rope. Someone who feels so empty ... so tired ... so ... nothing. Just nothing and sad. 

At least that's how I felt.  A tear-streaming, heart-aching pain that you can't completely quantify because it's not on the outside, it's coming from the depths of you, deep down inside. And because it's not a cut, or a bruise, it doesn't heal like a normal wound. It stays. It just is. It becomes you, and your identity is now wrapped up in this pain that you can't see or fix.  The person that you used to be, now so small and fragile, is tucked into this little corner of yourself, not knowing how you are going to breathe your next breath because everything just hurts. Everything is a struggle. It's exhausting, and it feels like it will never end. 

Fast forward a few anti-depressant filled years.

I have never been a faithful church goer.  I always felt a pull towards God, especially in difficult times, but once my husband and I got engaged, we felt it was important to find a church to belong to.  I pushed for it, maybe because I felt like it meant more to be married in a church. Like we would have a better shot at staying married? I have no idea where that logic came from, but nevertheless, we started our search.

I don't think either of us were prepared, or quite frankly even looking, for Jesus to enter our lives when we started looking for a church.  We believed that God existed, but didn't know Him or His Word. We tried a few services at a few different churches, but we just didn't feel comfortable. We finally found a small church, and for the first time we were hearing the Bible, not only preached, but explained so well. It was really amazing. 

We had been going to this church for a couple of months, and I remember it was Christmas time because the tree was up. White lights were twinkling, red ornaments singing. At the end of the service, the pastor talked about making Jesus Lord of your life. He also invited anyone with physical ailments, or those in need of prayer, to come up to the front of the church to be prayed over.

He had extended this invitation in the past, but for the first time I felt my eyes welling up, and before I knew it, I was walking up, past the Christmas tree, to the front of the church. I fell to my knees and I sobbed. I couldn't open my eyes or lift my head, I just sobbed. I don't know if that was when I got saved, but I remember that moment so vividly.  The pain I had been carrying for so long, the pain that was so deep inside that I was trying to hide from the world just came rushing out. And even though there was a whole church full of people, at that moment I felt like the room was empty, and it was just me and Jesus. 

I started reading the Bible. I started praying to God, and getting to know Him.  The more I got to know Him, the more I wanted to know. I became enamored by this love ... a love so strong for me, that He would send His own Son to die in my place. I really don't understand this love, and I certainly don't deserve it, but being loved that way has helped me love others better. I am a better wife, a better mother, daughter, sister, friend, all because of this love that, similar to the pain I once felt, comes from the deepest depths of who we are. 

This is a story that I have never told even my family or closest friends.  God is the only one who knows this story. I would guess that my friends would be shocked to know I felt that way, because I always appeared to be so genuinely happy.  A lot of the time I was, especially after I met my husband. He is a true gift, and I am so grateful for him.  But, there were those moments of solitude.  The happiness I portrayed then in no way compares to the joy that I feel now. 

So why even bring it up? In the past few weeks, I have been thinking a lot about what God has done for me and how changed I truly am. Not because I have done anything to effect that change - because I haven't.  If that were the case, all the tears and turmoil would have made a dent in how I felt.  It's because of what God did for me ... what He did to me.  I am literally not the same person I once was.  That shadow of a person tucked in the corner of herself - she roams free. My whole being abides in God and Him in me. He was there to pick me up when I couldn't walk or face another day. He pulled me out of my own torment and carried me safely to shore. 

Truthfully, He didn't restore me back to who I was before, either. I am new. I may still have struggles, like everyone does, but my son will never know that person I once was, and I am so grateful for that. So, that is my reason for writing this. 

There is hope in Jesus. There is love in Jesus. There is rest. Peace. Forgiveness. Joy. 

True, unbridled joy, that you have never imagined. 

There is LIFE.

   You will show me the path of life; 
   In Your presence is fullness of joy; 
   At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
                                       -Psalm 16:11