Dearest one, I see you. I see that you’ve suffered long and without respite. You’ve walked through the dark night, wondering if your promise will ever come. Maybe you’ve lost more than you thought was possible in this lifetime. Maybe you’ve cried until you’ve felt your insides dry up and crack open, while the rest of the world has moved on.
I see you, and I want to tell you a story.
I was twenty-nine and single when I found myself pregnant. I had spent the prior decade immersed in addictions, bad relationships and self-help groups, trying to numb the pain that came from a long history of sexual abuse. Nothing was working. I was angry at God for allowing such suffering in my life, but when I became pregnant, I knew things needed to change desperately, so I told Jesus He could have all of me. I had no idea what those words would come to mean.
When my daughter was born, I looked into her beautiful face and the two deep blue pools upon them, and in a moment, my heart came alive. She looked back at me and smiled, reaching her tiny arm up at me. The nurse sharply responded that babies can’t smile, but I know better. I think of the famous Le Mis line, “to love another person is to see the face of God,” and truly, Jesus became real to me that day through this person with thick black hair and the longest, most delicate fingers I had ever seen. Amazing what God can do through a baby. But of course… Jesus came as a baby.
My daughter’s arrival cracked open a door to healing for me, but it was very hard. I was a single mom with complex trauma trying to make ends meet. I’d care for my child during the day and work nights, only getting three or four hours of sleep before I’d start the whole process over again. Trauma memories resurfaced, along with PTSD, depression and night terrors. Small moments of breakthrough often suffocated under the weight of my circumstances. At the age of two, my little songbird was diagnosed with a chronic illness, and our days became filled with doctors, medications, and protocols. Nights, I sat in the dark of her room, listening to her labored breathing. I spoke the words from Matthew 7 over and over again – “this isn’t sawdust” – willing myself to believe that God wasn’t punishing me for my past. I know now that He wasn’t. Not even a little.
Days turned into years. I pressed into Jesus, saying yes to Him in the ways I knew how, and He was always there for me. He loved me and was faithful to lead me forward in my healing. He gave me people that could walk with me and mentor me, and I began to see that there was a person inside of me that was whole, just buried under all the rubble. At the same time, I carried exhaustion in my chest like a bag of bricks and my bank account was often in the negative. Missing school due to illness meant constant makeup work for both my daughter and I. It was like trying to drink out of a firehose but drowning instead of getting the water I so desperately needed. In my prayer times, I pleaded with Jesus for mercy, reminding Him I was only dust. I felt like I had nothing to show for the hard work of healing. Every bone in my body longed for all this to be over, and still, I could always hear Jesus calling me higher up the mountain.
Philippians 4:11-13 says “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through Him who gives me strength.” (NIV, emphasis mine).
The last part, we quote often: I can do all this through Him who gives me strength. It’s a verse we hang on artfully lettered plaques in our homes or write over stock photos that we post on social media accounts. We quote it to each other when times are hard, often interchanging it for the old adage, ‘God never gives us more than we can handle’ - an adage that isn’t biblical, to be clear. Then, when we try to persevere and instead become utterly crushed by circumstances, it’s easy for shame and prolonged grief to take hold in our life, isolating us and hindering our awareness of God and His perfect love for us. We become stuck in old patterns and ways of thinking. Even stuck in cycles of suffering.
For me, it became clear. I couldn’t do all this. I couldn’t even come close. And I certainly didn’t feel like I had God’s strength or even knew how to access it. Before Paul wrote about overcoming in Philippians 4, he wrote in 2 Cor 1:3-11 “we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself.” I had to wonder, how did Paul go from despairing of life itself to be content in all circumstances? What is the secret to doing all things through Christ?
One summer, an intense pain grew in my side, and I was barely able to walk. Doctors couldn’t give me a diagnosis. For months, I felt I was being crushed to the point of death and knew I was at the end of myself. It was then that God gave me a profound vision –
I was wandering in the desert, dying of thirst, and all I possessed was a tiny drinking straw. Over and over, I tried sticking my straw into the ground, thinking if I just went deep enough or could just discover the right place, I would find water to ease my pain. Instead, my mouth kept filling with sand.
This isn’t sawdust, a gentle voice said. Startled, I looked to see Jesus standing with me in the desert. Give me the straw, Michelle.
“But Lord, it’s all I have left. If I give it to you, I will die.” My feeble answer echoed through the empty wasteland.
Jesus gently held out His hand to me, and I looked down to see it was nail-pierced from the cross. Suddenly, it hit me how He had given everything for me. And now, I had a chance to do the same. I handed Him my straw.
And something happened. My circumstances didn’t change right away, but I began waking up in the deep places of my spirit. Nights that were hard, I practiced sitting with the Lord and listening to His voice. Days I felt bone tired, I practiced the sacraments of sabbath and gratitude for the small things. My practice was often imperfect, but even then, it was like the sun ( or the Son) began to rise on my life. Jesus became my Living Well, and I drank deeply of His presence. He shared the secrets of His heart with me and wrote His word into my bones. My thoughts became a continual prayer conversation with Him. Intimacy was the foundation of all we did. I began to see joy on the path before me and behind me - joy that had somehow been there all along. And for the first time in my life, I began to understand what it means to be strengthened by Jesus in all things.
In Philippians 4:11, before talking about doing all things through Christ, Paul states “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.” In Brian Simmons’ insightful notes from The Passion Translation, he conveys this line can be read another way: “I have learned to give up everything I have.”
What if the secret to overcoming - to doing all this - is actually about giving up everything we have?
When I just wanted my suffering to end, Jesus instead took me the way of the Cross. He literally asked for my last straw - my yes - when it was all I had to give Him. But there, in my place of barrenness, in my valley of despair, I found a hidden door to the greatest love story I’ve ever known.
It has been over a decade now since that little face looked up and me and smiled. And while we continue to pray for my daughter’s complete healing, the two of us are living a story full of wonder. Laughter floods our home. We are beautifully knit into community. Worship is a way of life. I never dreamed it could be so good.
Recently, Jesus took me to the place where I experienced most of my trauma as a teenager, and there He touched me with His fire and healed me. All my suffering from my past was gone. My PTSD, depression, nightmares – gone. He said to me, Michelle, I credit to your healing all the tears anyone has ever cried over being abused. I knew in a heartbeat what He meant. He doesn’t just give me redemption for my story, He gives me all the redemption He holds within Himself for all mankind… because He gives me all of Himself.
All this for anyone who says yes.
Another verse comes to mind. “Whoever loses their life for me will find it.” Matthew 16:25 It may not make as exciting of a wall plaque, but that, dearest one, is the secret.
Beloved, the path to abiding in His strength is lined with your yes-es. Jesus said the ultimate yes and chose to give us everything He had on the Cross because He knows it’s the only way to resurrection and to covenant life – a life lived beyond human strength where we receive all of our Holy Creator’s redemption. It’s victory in more than we could ever handle. No matter how dark the night gets, no matter how long the path, don’t lose hope. Keep sitting with Him, talking to him, listening, grieving with Him, receiving His perfect love, practicing His presence in every single moment. I promise you, it’s worth it. The prize of knowing Jesus in the barren places is worth it. Even now, He’s leading you into the greatest love story of your life.