Fingerprints in the Mess
I was a mess.
Lately, I’ve been obsessed with the numerous abandoned homes that line nearby country roads. Old homes where a family once thrived. But now they sit empty. Broken windows. House in disrepair. Dark and lifeless. Just like me at one time in my life.
Pretending to be a college student, I managed to get myself to class during my first semester at the University of Illinois, but once there, my mind took off down a path of its own. I’d find myself wandering along a dry and dusty road, searching for anything that would quench my parched soul.
Feeling dark and lifeless, I’d spend hours in a bookstore, perusing titles I was sure would give me answers. Who am I and why am I even here? I picked up the groundbreaking book, Our Bodies, Our Selves, a book by and for women. This is exactly what I was looking for, I just knew it. Until I read it. Great information, but it only shed more light on what was lacking in my life.
And then I discovered Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet. Ooooh, a prophet AND a poet! He would guide me to a place of deep contentment through his philosophical musings of the human heart. I was so disappointed when I realized his inspirational poems and essays scratched the surface of my longings, but never penetrated the deepest places in my soul.
But what about Hope for the Flowers? This one had potential! A whimsical, beautifully illustrated story about a caterpillar who turns into a butterfly. A great metaphor of transformation, but it completely missed the mark.
So when a classmate invited me to attend his church with him one Sunday morning, of course I said yes. What did I have to lose when everything else failed so miserably? Maybe this is what my heart was searching for all this time.
As soon as I entered the building, I knew it. I felt loved, seen, heard, and valued. The people approached me with a genuine warmth that drew me to them. The pastor’s message about Jesus spoke directly to my heart. A church-goer for most of my life, I never realized what Jesus actually did for us. I never knew how much He loved us. It was love that drove Him to the cross. My spiritual formation began that day. In the middle of my dark and lifeless mess, I embraced Jesus and never looked back.
Little by little, the Holy Spirit began to change me. For the first time, I began to feel alive and full of light and hope. God had a plan and purpose for my life and I couldn’t wait to discover all He held in store for me. He promised to never leave or forsake me and I took Him at His word. However my life unfolded, I was no longer alone. I had nothing to fear.
Spiritual formation is not an event: it’s a process. Our identity shifts from the roles we play to being called His beloved. It takes a lifetime of learning and a variety of experiences to shape and form us into the person God wants us to be. But the good news is, He does all the work. Our job is simply to create space for Him to do what He does best: transform us from the inside out.
He longs for us to come to Him in prayer and just talk to Him as one would with a friend, open and honest. I began to pour out all of my complaints and laid my brokenness before Him. As much as He wants to know what we desire, the goal of prayer is simply to encounter the Holy, developing an intimacy with God over time. Through prayer, I not only received His unconditional love for me, I expressed my love for Him. I began to let go of my life and let His gentle, liberating grace work on me.
Don’t be afraid of your messes. Your house may be in disrepair, broken and empty, but this is where God does His most significant work. We only need to let Him.
