Something happens when you find yourself lying on your bed.

There’s a moment you can no longer fight the sinking feeling that life isn’t going to be the same anymore.

You aren’t going to be the same anymore.

Life hasn’t turned out out the way you thought it would.

You didn’t turn out the way you thought you would.

And you try very hard, to remember who you once were.

You search your heart for glimmers of what it was that made you once feel alive.  It doesn’t feel like you could ever get that young, innocent feeling ever again.

But, even just the memory of what it was that made you feel safe, you touch a real part of yourself that is still alive.

Even the mere remembrance of the sunlight that first hits your eye lids as you wake up on a lazy Saturday — how warm your skin feels as you pull yourself out of a pool in the sweltering heat of July — how the sound of a saxophone spills into the night in the city when you’re young and unafraid.

And you begin to cry. Because you miss the nearness of life.

Something Beautiful and True

I found myself in too many of these moments, for too long of a season it seemed.

But, as I laid there, with all my memories of the past alive in the present, I found in that pit of darkness something beautiful and true.

I found I could remember goodness.

And it told me that it was in me once.

It told me that it had to still be in me now.

Even though I was wounded.

I chose in that moment to believe that goodness was my faith, still breathing in me.

The fact that I longed for the goodness and hungered for it told me that nothing — not even my woundedness — could destroy and rob me of those memories.

And that Goodness had a name.

It was God’s Spirit, alive in me.

And that remembrance and longing for it was the movement of God’s fingers soothing my face.

They were hands of Someone who understood how being wounded led Him to remember all that captured His heart. One dark day.

A Deeper Wounding

The darkest moments Jesus found Himself — as I think about Him this week — are found in three words — spoken after Pilate washed his hands, released Barabbas, and had Jesus flogged with a ‘cat of  nine tails’.

It was a whip divided into several strips, each containing shards of broken pottery at their ends, enabling them to cut skin and tear flesh from bone. Most Roman prisoners didn’t live through these beatings due to shock and loss of blood. Third-century historian Eusebius described the process in grotesque detail by saying, ‘The sufferer’s veins were laid bare, and the very muscles, sinews, and bowels of the victim were open to exposure.’

Jesus somehow although crippled by the impossibility of surviving such physical torture had to endure even a deeper wounding.  I was drawn to this moment made up of three words found at the close of this scene.

…Then he released Barabbas to them.
But he had Jesus flogged,
and handed him over to be crucified.”
Matt. 24:26

… handed. him. over.

Jesus was handed over.

I can hear Jesus crying, not out of fear, but out of physical — and emotional pain.

He was abandoned.  Completely given up by everyone.

Make A Way

Life for Him would never be without the scars of betrayal.  His story could never be untainted by betrayal, loneliness and rejection.

But, Jesus choose all of it because behind all the brokenness, Jesus carried the memory of why He was willing to live this story that was unravelling in a very bad way.

Jesus carried live, beautiful memories —

of how He made you and me in the secret place.

And the warmth of our first breath caressing his heart.

He carried the sunshine of our smiles

He was determined to make it forever impossible one day for us to ever taste the salt of bitter tears ever again.

He would endure all the woundedness and devastation his body and his soul could carry.

Because in His woundedness, Jesus would remember you and me.

Faith Barista kindred Dunlizzie shared a comment on an earlier {Journey} post that brought this scene into my focus. She wrote:

Hebrews tells us that it was the joy that was set before Him that Jesus endured the cross. That joy wasn’t His reunion with the Father, but rather the saving hope for us…

He went to the furthest extreme to keep a promise of reconciliation with us, to give us a home with Him even now.

It’s overwhelming, but such is His great love… He can make a way.

“God places the solitary in families and gives the desolate a home in which to dwell…” Psalm 68:6

God can make a way.

Dare To Believe

I realize that for every countless moment I wanted to give up on me, one quiet voice spoke throughout —

I. love. you.

I won’t leave you.

I still see you.

I am here. With you.

And because I somehow dared to believe I heard these words, I knew my soul was still breathing life.

Because in my woundedness, Jesus still loves me.

Passionately.

Irrevocably.

Shamelessly.

Undeniably completely.

When I realized life was never going to be the same for me again, I stopped wishing to be rescued.

I began to desperately pray for courage instead.

To follow the journey through.

To lean in.

To move towards the memories I still carried of beauty. Of goodness. And dreams.

Lean In

No matter how whisper-thin, imperfect or insignificant my movements would be, I wanted to ignite my memories of goodness into living moments.

I would move towards them, I would surrender myself to the One who had been handed over — until His last breath made a way — to you and me.

You and I don’t ever have to be handed over and lost in the brokenness of life.

Jesus puts his hand in ours, to draw us towards Him. So He can carry us.

All the way.

God can make a way to us. With us.

No matter where the journey of life takes us, we are the living memories of what it means to be cherished and beloved by Jesus.

Don’t let anyone or the hardness of the journey convince you otherwise.

Life will never be the same. Let’s follow this journey through.

Lean in. Be you.

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What you are your thoughts on living and leaning in?

Pull up a chair. Click to comment. Rest awhile.

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A Special 7-Week Faith Jam Series:  {The Journey}

For the seven Faith Jam Thursdays leading up to Easter, I am selecting writing prompts to reflect movements in Lent.  Lent means “The Way of the Cross”.  In other words, Lent is “The Journey”.

You have been my safety to find my voice here on the blog and I hope this space here on Faith Barista can be that for you — as we explore these Journey-Inspired prompts together.

Let’s do this. You and me. Us and together. Let’s swap some stories.

This is a soulful, creative 6 week journey to open our hearts and journey together.  You can write in the comments or link up with your blog posts.

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**NOW, IT’S YOUR TURN — LINK UP IN THE FAITH JAM **

HTML Code For the Faith Jam Faith Fresh Badge

 

Faith Barista Jam Thursdays

1) I serve up a writing prompt. Let the topic soak in your heart, then publish your post the following Thursday and link up to share it with us.  If you don’t have a blog, just write directly in the comments.

TO LINK UP: Click the blue button below: “Add Your Link” and type in the *specific* URL to your blog post (not just the name of your blog). (Subscribers: click here to get there directly).

2) Place the Faith Jam Badge in your post.  It’s a welcome sign for our community, inviting others. Grab the HTML Code above. Thank you.

3) Then, pull up a chair. Visit the post before yours and say hi with a comment. Make a faith friend.

*Today’s Thursday’s 3/27/14 Writing prompt :
Wounded
This prompt is inspired by themes of Lent. Week #3 of {The Journey Series}, the journey to Easter.

*Next Thursday 4/3/14 Writing prompt:
Your Cross
This prompt is inspired by themes of Lent. Week #4 of {The Journey Series}, the journey to Easter.

May the writing prompt bring you to a quiet place inside your soul and spark a soul conversation to share with us in community.

Approach it any way you feel inspired! Only required ingredient: keep it real. Click here to learn more.

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