from where i stand.

i think that most of life is a nonlinear narrative. all the pieces of the story are disjointed, out of sequence, jumbled, forcing us to continually pull back and put the moments together in the bigger picture. we live in constant adjacent cycles of rising action, falling action and resolution, all overlapping, getting tangled. until each detail falls into place and suddenly the lights come on, the full value of the story is finally realized.

at least that’s what my life is: a series of causal coincidences.
moments full of unknown purpose and significance going virtually unrecognized until that moment of sparkling, incandescent clarity.

the season surrounding the remembrance of (and subsequent dealing with) my abuse often felt like the most disjointed series of unconnected events. as i dealt with the fall out, my prayer was often that the Lord would just reveal to me the purpose. i thought that i would have an easier time letting go, moving on, if i simply knew why it had happened. if God could just show me the completed puzzle then i would be able to push past the journey and move forward to the destination.
clearly, as He does, the Lord had a much different trajectory for me, for my story.
i wanted a neatly cut bouquet of flowers, but He wanted to plant the seeds and bring life from dry ground.
the years, the work, the highs and lows of hope and total apathy; they all felt isolated. each phase seemingly wrapping itself in a bow and getting placed into the banks of my memory, all becoming islands in the sea of my story.

but then the sweetest thing happened.

recently the Lord called to mind a memory of an image He gave me prior to the memory of my abuse. He had showed me the picture of myself standing outside of a paned glass door. the windows were shrouded in fog, and though i could see the shadows of figures within, there was no way for me to experience the light and life on the other side. i ached for months never understanding why i couldn’t access the inner room, why i couldn’t be in His direct presence.
this image lived in the recesses of my heart for years, all but forgotten, until the other day, when the Lord, in His sovereignty called it back to the front of my mind.

when the image returned i realized a thing of beauty: for years my life was marked by an unknown barrier. one that kept me from the presence of life and light and freedom. one that kept me from truly knowing the Lord and being truly known.
i was aware that life existed, but i didn’t really have it and i didn’t know how to open the door and experience it. i was trapped by the hurts that had been lying dormant in my heart. living in a lie, living with a whole chapter of my story missing, created a door that i could never open. a wall i could never climb.

but from where i stand today, as i look back on the event (16 years ago) and the memory resurfacing (5 years ago) i finally see a different image. i’m no longer the confused, wounded 22 year old seeing the glow of life from outside the door.
and it’s not just that the fog cleared, it’s that the door opened. paned glass no longer separates me from experiencing the warmth, the light, the joy, the freedom of His presence.
the puzzle pieces have fallen together and the beauty of His story is fully alive.

for years and years i searched high and low through my story for some kind of purpose. i begged the Lord to make my pain useful. i thought that i just desperately wanted a black and white answer.
but really i wanted a way to avoid the hurt and struggle of a life marked by sin and separation.
and then, just like that, in a season where i have not been asking questions, where i have been happily living in the mystery of His plan, He chooses to reveal the most beautiful truth, the most perfect purpose:
the point is, what happened to me didn’t happen to make me a better discipler or give me a better story. it didn’t happen to make me more relatable or more human. it didn’t happen so that i could be a better leader or better friend or better daughter.
sure, those things may be peripheral results, but it happened so that i could ushered into a closer communion with the Lord than i could have ever imagined. it happened in order to make my life reflect the life of Christ. it happened so that God could be glorified. it happened so that i could know and be known, that i could love and be loved, that i could see and be seen.
what more purpose is there?

it’s not that the thought had never crossed my mind, but the truth is, i couldn’t see the forest for the trees. i couldn’t make myself. He, in His time, had to scoop me into His hands and let me see the whole picture. every piece bathed in the incandescent light of His presence.
redemption and restoration are miraculous wonders.
what a good and faithful and sovereign God we serve, that in His kindness He doesn’t just apply purpose to our pain, but He truly brings our darkest, deadest parts back to life and makes them more beautiful than they’ve ever been. He makes them into images of Himself.
what a joy to suffer alongside my Savior, i’m unbelievably blessed to bare scars that look like His.
may i never tire of taking joy in the way i fit into His bigger picture, and the way He skillfully designs mine.