Redeeming Grace

When the Holy Spirit prodded me to share this story.....ten years ago.....I said, "You want me to what?  Um, no, it's been ten years, and that's behind me now."  When God grabs hold, though, no isn't an option, even if it takes ten years.  When God began using my 7 experience to transform me last year, I prayed that He would use my blog for His glory.  If God chooses to use my writing as a ministry then I need to be prepared to be up front and not hide behind a facade of hypocrisy.  I am tired of pretending like I have never stumbled.  I have fallen down been broken and bruised then pasted a got-it-all-together grin on my face and never looked back.  Opening yourself up is scary, terrifying, actually, but I hear the Holy Spirit gently saying, "I can't use you if you're not honest, if you're hiding, because the person you can minister to the most might benefit from hearing your story of wrecking and MY story of redemption."  My prayer is that He uses this post to speak tenderly into the ear of a beloved and remind her, "There is NOTHING that can separate you from my love....nothing."

A few weeks ago a guest pastor at my church challenged us to really search the Bible and catch a glimpse of who God really is on the pages of scripture. So, I pulled out my bible a few days later and opened to the first verse of Genesis, eager to receive a fresh glimpse of my Father.  I read to about Genesis 3 when I was struck by God's reaction to Adam and Eve's transgression in the Garden of Eden.  No, I didn't find His reaction to their sin surprising, but what I found stunning was that God made them coverings before He expelled them from the garden.  After they had just breached His trust and condemned mankind to death, God, knowing that Adam and Eve were now aware of their nakedness, made them clothing. This verse struck me as a tender image of God showing love despite, I imagine, disappointment and frustration.  I had probably read that verse hundreds of times, but because I was searching to see the character and love of God, I read it differently that day.

If you had asked me as a child to draw my image of God, I would have drawn a scowling judge, pointing a reprimanding finger, scolding my disobedience.  I'm not sure why; my parents showered my siblings and me with unlimited unconditional love, but somewhere along the way, I began to see God as someone I had to please to receive love.  I eagerly followed Christ, but my relationship with Him centered more on performance than grace.  Christianity became a game of rules.  Those who kept the rules won and those who didn't lost.  I was in it to win and rules I could handle.  The list of dos and don'ts brought this overachieving people-pleaser security.  It was much less scary than making myself vulnerable to a true relationship with the Creator of the universe, or so I thought.

When I arrived at my large university, I was still playing the game, still jumping through hoops to please a warped image of God that I had created in my mind.  I was also perched in an ivory tower of smug self-righteousness, looking down on all those poor souls at this large partying institution, those folks who just couldn't get with the program.  I was also drowning in a sea of insecurity, unsure what I wanted to do with my life, and feeling the pressure I placed on myself to achieve perfection in every area of my life.   One day, when the enemy whispered, "Go ahead, what will it hurt?" I decided, fed up with doing it God's way,  that I, too, wanted to be pretty, popular, and part of the crowd.  I had grown weary of standing on the outside looking in, so I accepted an invitation to a party and took my first real drink.  I justified it by patting myself on the back for waiting until just months before my twenty-first birthday to consume alcohol.  What followed was a downward spiral into a struggle with alcohol that would last for years.

Suddenly, I became the stumbling drunk girl on the strip that I had pitied my first three years on campus.  Lest you think that I allowed anyone who "mattered" to see me blemished and dirty, not a chance.  No matter how late I arrived home on Saturday night, I polished myself up and attended church every Sunday morning.  I was desperate, desperate to stop the cycle.  Drink, party, repent, drink, party, repent.  I hosted Bible studies in my apartment, anything to earn my forgiveness.  I will spare the details, but it became the loneliest, most miserable fight of my life because my foolish pride forced me to hide in the shadows and battle alone.  Fortunately, we can't hide from God, and He reached into the pit and pulled me out and began to teach me what grace and His love are all about. Praise God! 

Last week, when everyone was so up in arms about Miley Cyrus, my heart actually broke for her.  I could have been one bad decision away from dancing on stage intoxicated with giant teddy bears.  Before my experience, sure, I had sinned, but in my mind, they were minor infractions.  You see, though, all of us who follow Christ were bought at a price.  His blood was shed for all of our sins.  We justify our sin as not as bad as someone else's, but your sin cost just as much blood as the murderer and thief.  Even as I write this, I want to explain that my experience was just like so many others I met on campus, but there is no justification. My sin felt worse because I covered it up with more hypocrisy than any Pharisee.  Paul said he was the chief among sinners, but keep in mind, he wrote that before I was born.  What God has shown me very recently as I've wrestled with Him over this and over the fact that I've been forgiven for my past transgressions is that while I've repented of my behavior, I never repented for my hypocrisy until now.  We still had work to do on this. 

Through my whole college and early adult process, Jesus taught me the ugliness and hideousness of my sin; he helped me grasp this so we could move forward in our relationship.  Some of you may be saying, "Big deal, kids will be kids. College students drink all the time."  Sin is clearly defined in the Bible, and nothing justifies grieving the Holy Spirit.  Others may be saying, "What?  You fake."  While I want to address everyone I love and respect, I'm writing this for you dear prodigals who have never had the courage to talk about your stumbles because, like me, you were afraid your Christian friends would no longer accept you if they ever discovered the mistakes you made.  If that's true, dear me, what gospel are we preaching?  

Why am I sharing this?  Other than the fact that I feel very led by Christ to do so.  Because maybe there is one person out there who needs to hear this, who needs to know that we're all broken in some way.  While I don't believe God ever desires for us to fall into a lifestyle of carnality, I do think it's possible that He allows us to pass through the fire to refine us.  Please do not misunderstand, I am not saying it was God's will for me to disobey, but I do think when we're most broken, His love is most beautiful.  Before when I read the story of the prodigal, it was just a nice parable about a young man I could never relate to, foolishly squandering his father's inheritance. The big brother, well, there's a guy I could get behind.  Now, that story resonates.  We crawl back broken, hopeless, and fallen, and God doesn't wag a finger of reprimand in our face.  He lifts us from our pit, dusts us off, and celebrates our return.  Praise God at the mere thought of His mercy and love!  

I've always loved Beth Moore because I relate to her own prodigal story, and I admire her willingness to share it with others as a ministry.  Maybe, I'm sharing this because God is preparing me for something through my writing or teaching.  I don't know.  In my career, I often work with girls who are insecure, who are looking in the wrong places for affirmation; maybe God needed to know I was willing to share my story of brokenness and redemption before I could be trusted to minister to others.  Maybe I've been hiding a testimony that can help others heal. How can I serve Jesus and help the broken if I don't allow anyone to see my own brokenness?  As my sister beautifully reminded me, God's power is made perfect in our weakness.  Maybe someone needs to know that the Hound of Heaven doesn't give up.  If pouring myself out like a drink offering draws someone closer to Him then so be it.  Jesus was broken for us; as His disciples, what makes us think we can escape being broken and humbled and exposed for the sake of the gospel. 

While I was just fine keeping this all to myself, I feel that God wasn't.  I finally see that He didn't deliver me from my struggle with alcohol simply for my own sake.  He is giving me an opportunity to share hope with others, so for all you dear women who've messed up along the way and hide in the shame of your sin, please know that God's grace, God's mercy, the blood of the Lamb who was slain covers that sin when you repent and turn to Him, truly turn to the God of love that He truly is.  You are beautiful, your are redeemed, you are restored.  

In the ten years since, God has blessed me with so much: an amazing husband who came along at the exact right time, two beautiful children, a fulfilling career, but He's also allowed me to wrestle, to question, to struggle with my past and with my need for affirmation and with my need to earn His approval.  He's teaching me that He loves me no matter what.  There are days I replay what might have been if I had said no and fled from temptation, but I'm gently reminded that through my faith in Christ, He's redeeming my past and hopefully, using my story to bring Him glory.  I cannot change the past, but I can choose to believe God is who He says He is and loves as He says He loves to believe that it applies to me and that I'm not the only person alive who's exempt from His promises.  Now, when I think about God, I see Jesus, stooping down and gently lifting my chin and saying, "I love you.  I take great delight in you; in my love, I will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing." (Zep 3:17)  

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