Words from the Past

Every now and then, I like to share something I have learned from someone who is no longer with us. Men such as A.W. Tozer, Andrew Murray, D.L. Moody and others, left behind a treasure chest filled with nuggets of wisdom that God gave to them. Whether it be through their preaching, writing or through others who watched them walk with God, we have access to these nuggets. 

Rebecca Trumbull

I became a Christian at the age of twelve. Within a few years of that I began writing. I dabbled with stories and poems, but what I wrote most consistently were journals. I have been keeping my thoughts and my prayers in those little lined books for many years. Every now and then, I look back through the pages and it surprises me, how much God has used my writing to teach me about Him and about my place in His world. 

I came across this piece I wrote on September 21, 2012. Since it references fall, I thought it appropriate to publish here for you to read. I was going through a very difficult time in my life at that point and was getting counsel from a godly counselor. We talked about my vision of what I thought life would look like at this point and how in reality things didn't line up. He gently told me that in order to move on, I needed to put that vision to death. 

Pixabay

At the same time, I was also reading Ann VosKamp's work, One Thousand Gifts, in which she refers to those situations in life that we never wanted or expected as ugly-beautiful. It is amazing how God can bring all these scattered pieces together and give us an acutely clear perspective.

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At times loss can be beautiful - ugly-beautiful.

This season, fall, trees begin a transformation of loss. Their leaves, once green and supple, change in color and become dry, even crispy. 

Gradually, they let go, both the tree and the leaf.

The tree, in its God given wisdom knows that it will bloom again; its stark branches will feel the excitement of new growth.

Does the leaf know its life is over?

Does it accept the loss of the tree and the giddiness of the wind to send it wherever it desires?

Does it breath a sigh of relief when its final resting place slowly swallows it down and it is remembered no more?

There are aspects of my life, I need to let go of. I need to quit clinging and let those leaves fall silently to the ground. 

That is the only way for new life to begin.

(Written by Amy D. Christensen - 9/21, 2012)

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Even though I am at a different point in my life than I was when I wrote that, I believe it still holds true. Don't we all have leaves in our life that we are clinging to, challenging the wind to tear them from us? Yet, each season has a purpose and we need to know when that season has passed and we must let God create newness in our lives. I know it is hard, but God knows what is best and how very much He cares for you.

“The Lord appeared to him from afar, saying, “I have loved you with an everlasting love; Therefore I have drawn you with lovingkindness.”

— Jeremiah 31:3 (NASB)

“For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus”

— Philippians 1:6 (NASB)

The Tower

I lived there once, the Tower. More accurately, I was held captive there. Maybe you are familiar with my story. I was young and curious and that curiosity would often lead me off the beaten path. One particularly beautiful day, when it wasn't quite spring yet, but the sky shone so blue and the sun so bright that I couldn't help but wander, I came upon the castle...his castle. It was beautiful in the sun light, covered with green ivy. The stone walls were built with some ingredient that sparkled, and I loved bling. Before I knew it, I was touching the warm walls with my fingertips. I wasn't afraid. I had no reason to be, or at least I didn't know of one.I walked along the wall until I came to a heavy wooden door and there he was.

Arundel Castel - Arundel, West Essex, England - Photo by Amy Christensen

He was tall and very handsome. His light brown hair fell in waves to his broad shoulders. He smiled at me and held out his hand. I took it.

I don't know why! What was I thinking? He was nice to me for a while, giving me presents and telling me I was special, but then he took me to the tower. It became my prison. It wasn't until after he had locked the door that I realized I had made a mistake. Fear grabbed my stomach like a claw then scrabbled its way up into my throat. What had I done? How could I have been so naive, so foolish? The tower became not only my prison, but my torture chamber. The first time he pulled me close I realized his flesh smelled like the breath of hell and rotting meat. He never took me, but would hold me close, until I nearly suffocated from the stench, then he would push me away, mocking me, telling me I was ugly and stupid. Then he would leave locking the door behind him, laughing as he walked down the hall. Over and over, day after day. I had no idea what he would do when he came in. I was terrified. It was always the same. He would hold me, his putrid scent filling my nostrils, until I no longer noticed it. Then he would push me away, railing me with insults. One day, he took the key to the door and threw it out the window. 

Tower steps - Raglan Castle - Raglan, Wales - Photo by Amy Christensen

Turning to me he grinned, "You will never be enough!" He walked out the door, laughing down the hall until I could no longer hear him.

I fell into a heap and cried. I didn't even care if I was rescued. I just wanted to die. I was worthless. No one would come for me. No one would ever love me, especially now that I reeked of his lair, his stench. Everyone would know that I was not enough. 

That was years ago now. The Prince saved me. He rescued me. He came and defeated the master of that castle who held me captive. On that day He stood in the door of my tower, I will never forget the eyes that shown like that bluest sky I remembered so well from when I was captured. I cowered at the other side of the small room with a ragged blanket wrapped around my shoulders. He came and knelt down in front of me. 

Holding out His hand he said gently, "Why are you here? You are free. Come, beloved!"

I winced. Shaking my head I tried to back even further into the stone of the walls that had imprisoned me. 

He smiled, "Come, beloved!"

"No!" My voice came out like a squawk. 

He moved to touch me, but I scooted back. He persisted. "You are my beloved. Come, take my hand."

This time, I stood up. "No! I....am...not. I...am...not...enough!"

The prince stood and in one step gathered me into his arms. The first thing I noticed was that he smelled of earth and pine, flowers and fields. He took my face into his hands and said, "Beloved, I am!"

There are still times, I hear that other voice, "You will never be enough!" It comes as a whisper at the end of the day when the sun is waning and the sky darkens.Those words that once held so much power over me were real and cut deep. But the Prince brought healing. His voice has become a balm to my injured soul. He is enough. And I am His. 

““...I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.”

— Jeremiah 31:3 (NASB)

“I belong to my beloved, and his desire is for me”

— Song of Songs 7:10 (NASB)