Wilderness Wandering

To the woman who has held more than you ever should have, If I could welcome you into my favorite coffee shop, I would give you a big hug and say, “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time. A lifetime.” After ordering two double-shot caramel mochas, I’d walk with you to the back and sit at a table for two. Far enough away that deep conversations and kind, gentle listening can coexist. I’m optimistic that your deep wounds, buried too long, will be revealed to be healed. I know it’s painful. I’ve been there. Glancing into the mirror in front of me, I notice my eyes look bright, full of hope, and anticipation. I’ve wandered in the wilderness and been wounded. Yet, I have grown and healed so much through my years of wilderness wandering. I grin at the graying hair framing my face. I’m thankful for the difficult life behind me and full of excitement for what is yet to unfold. As I bring the coffee mug close to my lips, I look at the empty seat in front of me. Slowly, I begin to see a grainy image manifest before my eyes; the “you” I’ve invited in is really me, my younger self. I watch a sparkly young mom presenting calculated responses, pulling off her coat, “We’re good, the kids are good, just busy, you know... and you?” She trails off, desperate to get the conversation off her as she slides into the seat in front of me. I am a thirty-two-year-old mom with two boys in elementary school, teaching biology, and training for a marathon. She pipes up excitedly, “Hey, you won’t believe this, I got accepted into the ACTS (Academies Creating Teacher Scientists) program at Oak Ridge National Laboratory. I was accepted for that summer job conducting research on bacteria for eight weeks.” She barely takes a breath, “I start Tuesday after Memorial Day, but that’s OK, it pays well.” She quickly picks up her coffee to occupy her mouth, so nothing more is said. Her eyes drift away from my concerned yet compassionate eyes as I wonder who is going to be with the boys that summer while she works. My heart breaks as I see through the layers of deception of my former self, paralyzed by performing, juggling to keep it together. The divorce was final months ago. Out of desperation to fill the gaping wound and loneliness that consumes her, she overcompensates with excessive running, compulsive dieting, and searching for someone to soothe her wounded heart. She is wandering in her wilderness; she just doesn’t know it yet. I see the cloak of performance wrapped like a straitjacket around her as she measures her accolades by others’ acceptance. She is convinced that the higher the level of her performance, the more others will approve of her, love her, accept her, and want her. She changes the conversation quickly and masterfully without much effort. My heart breaks as I see my younger self unraveling before my eyes. This was normal for me for a very long time. Decades. Even though words never leave my lips while I nibble a bite of a warm muffin, words of comfort tumble in my head. I speak to my younger self—to you, the woman or man who has held more than you ever should have — with kind, gentle words and say, “I am so sorry for what you’ve gone through. My heart breaks knowing the abuse, deception, grief, loss, and trauma you’ve endured, all while trying to hold it together. Deep wounding that you weren’t even aware you were living in. You were deceived and hurt for so long. You’ve worked so hard to hide the pain by performing and desperate to win the approval of others. I invite you to walk through the wilderness into His open arms. He’s waiting for you.” A deep sigh erupts from my chest as I take a brave step into a journey I’ve attempted for half of my life — over 25 years. The coffee shop is bustling with patrons now as I pull out my computer. I look around to see if anyone notices the soft tears slide down my cheeks that I’ve held for far too long. No one does. No one is coming to join me today. I open the computer and begin to write the story God is still writing. If I were writing my own story, I would not have written it this way. Believe me, I’ve tried many times. I would not have chosen my story to be this hard, heartbreaking, messy, and confusing. I would have chosen not to be so deeply mired in my own deception and betrayal by others. I would have chosen not to have lived a counterfeit life for so long, pretending everything was polished when my life was cracking from within. I would like to have answers to all my questions. There are days I wish I had not succumbed to years of deception and betrayal. Yet I did. But I am not the author of my story. I finally handed the pen of my life over to the true Author, Jesus. Hebrews 12:1-2 says “...let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder [author] and perfector of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” If you’re sick and tired of carrying the weight you were never meant to bear, open the pages and walk through this journey with me to find truth, God’s truth. As I unpack my own decades of self-deception, the slippery slope of others’ deception, and the enemy’s lies, I pray that you know you are not alone in your journey. By the grace of God, He pursued me in the wilderness and revealed the Hope that only comes when I surrendered fully to Jesus. A final caveat.  Laying down the burden of a lifetime of performance is not easy or quick. If it’s all you’ve known, like me, it will be a step into a wilderness you may have never experienced. I think of it as my own Exodus story. While the Israelites were enjoying their much-anticipated freedom away from the grip of the Egyptians, it didn’t take long for complaints to roll off their lips. Exodus 16:3 says, “…Would that we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the meat pots and ate bread to the full, for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.” The Israelites knew bondage, slavery, and persecution, yet they preferred the “meat pots.” They were unfamiliar with the freedom, provision, and blessings the Lord intended for them. Are you willing to walk out of the bondage of deception, performance, and the appearance of having it all together and into the wilderness with worldly expectations stripped from you? Do you trust the Lord to guide and provide for you on this journey? What could that look like? As I continue to walk through my own Exodus story, I often quote Exodus 16:15 as the Israelites saw the frost-like manna for the first time, “What is it? For they did not know what it was.” What is it, Lord, that you have for me? What do you have for the person holding this book to lay down, to walk into the wilderness with you, and learn to trust You and watch You provide in ways never imagined? Healing takes time and means sitting with the Lord during difficult seasons. But healing may not look like what you anticipate. It may mean refinement, which can be painful, as the Lord polishes the sharp edges of our own flesh in its pride, arrogance, deception, ignorance, and other weaknesses and sins. I'm blessed that even through tragedy and suffering, I've experienced a level of healing I didn’t even know was possible. As we begin the journey out of Egypt and into the wilderness, I invite you to lay down the burdens, one by one, that you were never meant to carry and break free from the choking strongholds of deception.