Sunday, April 16, 2006

Chapter 22: Broken glass pt 3

We walk back to the fireplace, His hand gently on my shoulder. I sit beside to box again and must my courage to look within. The topmost picture is large. The simple frame is intact, but the glass is broken into large, wickedly sharp shards. The picture is a collage of our move from old house and of people, from the church, who were involved in that process.. Memories and the pain from them come flooding back. Broken promises, promises that we would not be damaged by certain people who broke contract with us. Feelings of blame for expecting integrity, feeling blamed for the whole thing because of my expectations; no accountability, no repentance, no consequences.

Even now, the feelings are so fresh! I am so angry, so hurt. I cannot help but weep. How could You let this happen? How could You condone this? How could You bless them for this?” I am livid, even at Him. The strength of my reaction surprises me; I cannot contain it any longer. I begin to curse them at the top of my lungs. “Damn them! Damn them!” I am too hurt and too angry to even be afraid of His reaction. Tears are flowing freely down my cheeks, falling into my hands, burning the cuts from the broken glass. Trying to brush them away, I only manage to smear blood from my hands across my face.

I feel His hand gently on my shoulder. “You know, you must break those curses.” He tells me softly. There is no anger in His voice, only compassion.

Part of my –my anger-wants to argue, but I do not. Over each one, I whisper,” I repent Papa, for cursing them. I break that curse over them, I break that curse. I bless them now. Bless them Papa, bless them to overcome the curse….” My words fade into bitter weeping and I turn to Him, “You have blessed them, blessed them in spite of what they have done. They experienced no consequences—it didn’t matter. There was not price to be paid for what they did. None of that mattered to You!” Part of me cannot believe my own boldness in this moment. “What they did to me did not matter to You and You blessed them!” I hang my head now, whispering, “I want Your blessing too—I want to ask for Your blessing too. But after all that has happened, how can I expect…” I cannot finish through my tears.

His response is gentle and simple. “Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find…”

“I want your blessing, Papa—please bless me, too.” My voice is breathy and weak, I can manage no more than that.

He squeezes my shoulder in His strong hand. “Release the pain to Me.” His instruction is firm.

I stare through my tears at my hands, torn and bloody, full of broken glass. “Why? What did it matter then? What difference did it make? I did not matter then, what does it matter now?” My hands close convulsively around the glass driving it deeper into my palms.

“It did matter then, child. It mattered very much. I was there with you in all of those moments, let me show you.”

I see images: a cowardly half apology, one blaming me for expecting better from others. But this time He is in the picture and I can see He is not pleased, I even see tears.
It is so clear now, He was not pleased, not condoning, not blessing it all. He was unhappy with it all. This was not what He desired!

“Let it go now.” He tells me again.

Purposefully, I begin to throw the glass shards into the fire, watching the flames flare with each addition. Finally my hands are empty, but there are shards embedded in my hands and I cannot remove them. The pain intensifies and I can think of only one things to do. I hold my hands out to Him, wordlessly as I have nothing left to say.

He takes my hands in His with a healing gentleness and begins the work of removing all the slivers from my hands. The process takes a long time. When finally He is finished, He keeps my hands in His left and takes my chin in His right hand. He lifts my chin to look into my face. With incredibly delicacy He begins to clean the blood off my face, removing tiny glass shards from my cheeks, my eyes and even my ears, and throwing them into the fire.

His compassion only brings me to tears once more and I silently weep again. He lets me cry myself out. Finally, He speaks again,” I have blessed you my child, more than you understand. I have given you abundance as your expectation. Come let Me teach you.”

Part 4-->

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