Ever since I answered God's call to quit my corporate job about three years ago to return to teaching, I had not devoted the time to memorize any new scripture passages, nor even to study my existing ones very often. I meditated on scriptures daily in my classroom because it was the only way to keep my sanity, let alone my hope. But I missed my scripture memorization terribly.
For the last couple of months, I've wanted to begin a new passage, but I couldn't choose among so many beautiful scriptures that God had given me these last months through sermons, through cards and messages from friends, through songs in English and Spanish, and even through Uber drivers from all over the world.
Because I had felt so utterly alone, I'd thought to find a passage about angels ministering to me, but somehow that didn't feel right. On Thursday, October 3, I was walking and talking with Jesus in the park as I do virtually every morning. As I drank in the sight of the graceful trees arching over my favorite part of the trail, I reminisced over all the times I had walked this path with my Beloved. "You shared my hardest times and my most beautiful joys," I whispered... because it was a beautiful morning and I wasn't the only person enjoying the park trails.
"You know," I went on, "I really want to start memorizing another passage. It would be so helpful for my mental focus, and you know how I delight in your Word, Beloved. What passage should I-"
In that familiar way that He has, Jesus answered my question before the words had left my mouth. A verse flitted through my mind: These light and momentary trials are achieving for us a glory that far outweighs them all.
"Oh, that's perfect!" I exclaimed. "I know that is exactly what's happening to me right now. Thank you for allowing this trial that feels so endless. I know there is no other way you could help me grow so much in my faith."
I glanced up at the tree with two knobby protuberances that always remind me of pendulous breasts and the ghost of a laugh bubbled up inside me. I walked a few paces in silence and then continued my prayer aloud. "You have always confirmed every memory passage for me, for all these years. I feel sure this is the one, but I will wait for you to confirm it before I begin. I can't wait to see what creative way you use this time."
As I turned back for home, I felt God telling me to send two cards--one thank-you and one sympathy card. I obeyed His instructions immediately because I was still pretty forgetful at that point. [Who am I kidding? I've always been forgetful.]
I went straight to the desk where I used to spend so many hours working from home. There in the old-fashioned cubbies were two cards with no envelopes. I rummaged through all the other cubbies and unearthed a couple of mismatched envelopes that would almost fit. As I pulled them out, my eyes fell on a black composition notebook that had been resting on top of my desk for months. I'd been meaning to reread my gratitude journals so I could remember God's faithfulness to me and have faith that He would continue to be faithful; I snatched up the journal and took in the dates: April to December of 2018.
I made myself write out and mail the cards before I cracked open the journal to a random page. Can you imagine my astonishment when I saw, in my own hand, a reference to the verse I'd just quoted in the park? I'd written about a Francis Chan sermon, about fear, that I'd listened to while grading a stack of tests. "If I can remember that all of my trials are so momentary, then I can rest and be at peace knowing that my rejoicing in heaven will last an eternity. Why get worked up over something so temporary?"
On the next page was a story about my dad making dinner for me after a particularly trying day at school. "He told me about his prayers for me, and said he [believed] the enemy [had been] attacking because a breakthrough [was] coming," I wrote.
Tears filled my eyes. A breakthrough really had been around the corner. I'd written those entries on October 8, 2018, in the middle of my deepest struggles last school year. Just two months later, I found the strength and hope to make it through the long spring semester when I spent Christmas break doing a mental detox from negative thinking. At that time, I blogged about a seed of light that God revealed to me in the Spirit. He told me that the seed was sprouting below the surface of my mind, in the darkness of the rich soil, and that one day it would burst through the ground and shine.
I recognized in that moment, as I read my own journal, that the seed of light was even then breaking through the surface after the two darkest months of my entire life. My heart pounded with wonder. "God, you've never confirmed a passage so quickly," I breathed. "Thank you for light in my darkness."
A Google search quickly revealed the context of the verse I'd remembered. I gasped as I recognized a second scripture, about fixing my eyes on the unseen, that God had brought to my mind in recent weeks; I hadn't realized these two verses were part of the same passage.
Here is the whole passage:
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body....All this is for your benefit [referring to the Apostle Paul's readers in the church at Corinth, and also to us], so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God. Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:7-10, 15-18)
I didn't actually write the passage down until I found my blank business cards the following Tuesday. On that night, I read the passage to my sister Amy over the phone and wept when I came to the verse about wasting away outwardly but being renewed inwardly. I definitely felt that I was wasting away due to the continued pain in my arms and head, but I did not feel that I was being renewed at all spiritually. In fact, I'd never felt so aware of my distance from my Beloved. I knew He was not the one who had pulled away. I hadn't meant to pull away, but I'd been feeling betrayed and abandoned and alone. My loneliness for my Beloved was almost unbearable.
But the hot tears that coursed down my cheeks were not only tears of pain. "Amy, I don't know how God is going to renew me, but I know His word is true," I said. "He always keeps His promises."
And He has. Oh, He has. I don't have adequate words to describe the joy of meditating on this precious passage every morning since that day. I love Him more than ever. I can see now that I was always in His hands; nothing and no one could pull me out of His hands; I couldn't even have jumped out of them had I tried.
He was always in control, always by my side even when I could not feel Him. He allowed every attack of the enemy that I've endured for a purpose that I could not fathom. I had to get all the way to the bottom, to realize that even if I felt I had lost everyone and everything that mattered to me, He would still be enough. I had to participate with Jesus in His suffering so that I could also be partake of the glory of His resurrection. All of this was necessary so that He could show me the pain and ugliness inside of me and then wash it all away, so that He could take me into the deep with Him, farther than I've ever been. I don't know all of His plans for my future, but I believe that He is preparing me to serve Him more effectively and more joyfully than ever before.
In the meantime, I find delight in each treasure that I find in the darkness. Actually, I can say now that I have gradually emerged into the light, like Lazarus coming out of his tomb at Jesus's invitation. (A recent sermon about Lazarus helped me understand that the decision to come out into the light was one that only I could make for myself.)
I can only describe myself as alight with joy! Yes, my name is Joyful. I knew God would help me grow into this new name!
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| First Day Volunteering at my Old School |
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| Watching Allyson in Goal... So Fearless! |
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| Riding the train to the State Fair with Allyson |
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| My newest nephew, Knox Richard |
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| Riding Home from the Mechanic. Looking forward to biking with Allyson soon |
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| Watching my favorite band, Shane and Shane, in the rain with Allyson at the State Fair Their songs about the Psalms have changed my life. |
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| Allyson and Knox. The kind of sweetness that pierces your heart unexpectedly. |
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| Taking my bike on all my local errands... even in the rain! |
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| Treasure trove of scriptures and student artwork from the last two years in my classroom. Many of the scriptures that I "discovered" recently in my darkest hours were the same ones that lit my way through the darkness during the last school year. |
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| Just happy to be alive and breathing and eating and loving. |
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