Oh, Sovereign Lord... you alone know...
Part One
Part One
Forty-four years in the church and never once do I ever remember hearing this story. When the young stranger approached me that January 15th evening, the course of my life took a turn for the absolute worse. There would be absolutely no way of knowing in that moment, the agony that would be my constant companion for years to come.
I want to first disclaim, I do not write this to explain my self or my behavior. My intent is not to make excuses nor to bash others. My intent and purpose is simply this...to demonstrate the love the Father has for us and what He can and will do with a broken and contrite heart, completely yeilded and surrendered to His plan and purpose. Its not pretty, no often times is down right ugly, but if you know me, you know candy coating is not my style, never have and never will be so. So it is what it is, honest truth. Raw and exposed, wrapped in the Grace of our Savior.
I want to first disclaim, I do not write this to explain my self or my behavior. My intent is not to make excuses nor to bash others. My intent and purpose is simply this...to demonstrate the love the Father has for us and what He can and will do with a broken and contrite heart, completely yeilded and surrendered to His plan and purpose. Its not pretty, no often times is down right ugly, but if you know me, you know candy coating is not my style, never have and never will be so. So it is what it is, honest truth. Raw and exposed, wrapped in the Grace of our Savior.
Having been asked to sing several songs that evening in the revival service, it was nothing new for us to be on stage, there was nothing new about the songs, nothing new about the congregation, only one new occurrence...I could not get the notes to come out of my mouth. The guilt of my sin was more than I could bear and while no one else could tell a difference in my voice, I could feel a grip around my throat tightly choking the gift of song that had always been mine.
As our friend began the alter call that evening, I could not get to the front of the church fast enough. I tried my best to pray, nothing would come except tears. No words spoken, no words from my inner most being. Only agonizingly painful tears. The kind of tears that rack your body in waves of sobs. The kind of sobs that emerge violently from the down in the pit of your gut like bile from an empty stomach. The kind of groaning that only the Holy Spirit alone recognizes as the prayers of a desperate soul.
Standing to my feet, I searched in vain for words to convey my inner turmoil. Scott came to my side and laid hands on me to pray for me, begging me to vocalize the desperate need that had me in such a pitifully broken state. Yet no words would come forth. I turned, defeated, to return to my seat. Leaving what should have been a place of reconciliation, I slowly made my way back down the aisle, each step taking me further from the peace that every fiber of my being screamed for. Hopelessness, enshrouding me with every step I envisioned myself too far gone to be forgiven. Too deep in to be redeemed.
The service ended, the people socializing, the crowd dispersing, I stood frozen in place. Shaking hands, saying the obligatory "thank yous" for the compliments on a job well done, all the while the embers in my heart dying with each passing moment. It was then this total stranger walks to me. "Excuse me ma'am, do you believe in a word from the Lord?" I nodded my head to acknowledge my belief. "Ma'am, God wants you to read Ezekiel 37. Do you know what that is?" I shook my head no, still not yet to be able to utter a word. "The Valley of the Dry Bones? Have you ever read it ma'am?" "God wants you to read it tonight." All I could utter is a very weak "thank you" as tears once again flooded my eyes and caught in my throat.
Yes, I did go home that night and read Ezekiel 37 and no there was no great epiphany. I lay awake that night wondering, why would the Lord want me to read this? What did this mean? Somewhere, I knew there was something there for me, but I was yet not broken enough to delve into prayer or deeper study to determine what God was trying to tell me. In just less than a month, though, I was.
Allow me to step back in time.
My third child came rather unexpectedly in many ways. At the age of 39, not only was there the unexpected pregnancy, but the pregnancy took a severe toil on my body. After many years of traveling with my husband weekend after weekend, I had to come off the road. Much too soon the pregnancy took a horrible turn for the worse and 11 weeks too soon our final child came into this world fighting for his life. Without consulting the Holy Spirit, the decision was made, (after the baby came home from the hospital) for me to stay home off the road for a while as to not compromise his immune system. My husband folded our group and began to sing with an established group in the area. After just a couple of months their popularity grew and within the year, they were traveling full time and working full time, leaving me to care for three children on my own. Most weekends it was Friday to Monday. When in the area, our home was often central base and hosting between sings became part of my responsibilities as well.
( A little more background, and I will expand on this in later posts) I had been suffering with chronic migraines and was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue syndrome for years. After years of treatments of varying kinds and degree, three muscle relaxers, three pain killers, finally a new neurologists pulls me from all previous treatment...cold turkey. Within days my diet is completely changed, the meds have stopped and once again, the world as I have known it for so long, no longer exists.
Depression began to slowly slip around me like a good friend. My husband, withdrew from the home more and more, and with each week that passed my resentment grew like a terminal cancer. Silently, under the surface, it infiltrated every cell of my body. The loneliness, the resentment, the brooding anger, the unmet needs, the feeling like I did not matter any more ate away at my very spirit. I lost interest in church, in socializing, in getting out of the house, but most importantly, I lost interest in the one person who had been my world.
To make matters worse, I began having even more debilitating health issues. In December of 2009, after six months of continued bleeding, with only a few days in between each cycle, I walked into a gynecologist's office for the first time in three years. Fearing the absolute worst, I explained the recurrent issues to the doctor who just three years prior had saved my life. After several days of testing, poked and prodded from one end to the other, the doctor gave me the news that I immediately needed to have a hysterectomy. I hurriedly finished my Christmas shopping and just days before Christmas, had the surgery that would be the tipping point in my already fragile state.
As the year after the surgery progressed, life became even more stressful. My oldest, whom I leaned on heavily to help with the younger two children, graduated high school and moved 300 miles away. My father-in-law, who had become my help-meet, had been diagnosed the previous year with Wegener's Disease and was becoming increasingly ill, though he put on a brave front. The disease and the chemo taking its toll, I watched him become weaker and weaker until my help-meet now needed my care. As his appetite decreased daily, I created reasons for him to be at my house at dinner time, hoping to get a good meal into him. I watched helplessly as the man who once consumed two full dinner plates in a setting, now pushed his food around on his plate.
During this time, I found consolation in social media. I would spend hours locating old friends and catching up after years and decades had passed. It was at this time that Satan was able to get a stronghold on me and my family.
When the writer of Slow Fade penned the words to this song, I have no doubt that he or she had first hand knowledge of just how the enemy works to seduce us. Sin is not often something we look at and say "Hey, I think I'll try that" In most circumstances of epic eternal consequence, the perpetrator would admit that the fall began innocently and the subtlety was almost unrecognizable until it was too late. Not until the enemy can convince us that there is no turning back, do we rarely wake from our spiritual slumber. Once awakened, Satan continues to whisper in our ear. "God could never forgive you for this", "it's not that bad" or "it's too late now, you might as well enjoy it". For me the biggest lie was "No one really cares any way." Sister let me tell you, if it does NOT align with the word of the Lord it is a LIE straight from the pits of Hell! If you have to hide it, you had better run from it and if you would not do it out in public, then you don't need to entertain it.
Before a year had passed, my beloved father-in-law had passed, my son had left home, I was in the enemy's clutches in an emotional affair, the very fabric of our family was being ripped apart at the seams, the man God had given me belonged to another and I was as spiritually dead as those dry bones wasting away in my own Valley of death.
He asked me, “Son of man, can these bones live?”I said, “Sovereign Lord, you alone know.”
Standing to my feet, I searched in vain for words to convey my inner turmoil. Scott came to my side and laid hands on me to pray for me, begging me to vocalize the desperate need that had me in such a pitifully broken state. Yet no words would come forth. I turned, defeated, to return to my seat. Leaving what should have been a place of reconciliation, I slowly made my way back down the aisle, each step taking me further from the peace that every fiber of my being screamed for. Hopelessness, enshrouding me with every step I envisioned myself too far gone to be forgiven. Too deep in to be redeemed.
The service ended, the people socializing, the crowd dispersing, I stood frozen in place. Shaking hands, saying the obligatory "thank yous" for the compliments on a job well done, all the while the embers in my heart dying with each passing moment. It was then this total stranger walks to me. "Excuse me ma'am, do you believe in a word from the Lord?" I nodded my head to acknowledge my belief. "Ma'am, God wants you to read Ezekiel 37. Do you know what that is?" I shook my head no, still not yet to be able to utter a word. "The Valley of the Dry Bones? Have you ever read it ma'am?" "God wants you to read it tonight." All I could utter is a very weak "thank you" as tears once again flooded my eyes and caught in my throat.
Yes, I did go home that night and read Ezekiel 37 and no there was no great epiphany. I lay awake that night wondering, why would the Lord want me to read this? What did this mean? Somewhere, I knew there was something there for me, but I was yet not broken enough to delve into prayer or deeper study to determine what God was trying to tell me. In just less than a month, though, I was.
Allow me to step back in time.
My third child came rather unexpectedly in many ways. At the age of 39, not only was there the unexpected pregnancy, but the pregnancy took a severe toil on my body. After many years of traveling with my husband weekend after weekend, I had to come off the road. Much too soon the pregnancy took a horrible turn for the worse and 11 weeks too soon our final child came into this world fighting for his life. Without consulting the Holy Spirit, the decision was made, (after the baby came home from the hospital) for me to stay home off the road for a while as to not compromise his immune system. My husband folded our group and began to sing with an established group in the area. After just a couple of months their popularity grew and within the year, they were traveling full time and working full time, leaving me to care for three children on my own. Most weekends it was Friday to Monday. When in the area, our home was often central base and hosting between sings became part of my responsibilities as well.
( A little more background, and I will expand on this in later posts) I had been suffering with chronic migraines and was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue syndrome for years. After years of treatments of varying kinds and degree, three muscle relaxers, three pain killers, finally a new neurologists pulls me from all previous treatment...cold turkey. Within days my diet is completely changed, the meds have stopped and once again, the world as I have known it for so long, no longer exists.
Depression began to slowly slip around me like a good friend. My husband, withdrew from the home more and more, and with each week that passed my resentment grew like a terminal cancer. Silently, under the surface, it infiltrated every cell of my body. The loneliness, the resentment, the brooding anger, the unmet needs, the feeling like I did not matter any more ate away at my very spirit. I lost interest in church, in socializing, in getting out of the house, but most importantly, I lost interest in the one person who had been my world.
To make matters worse, I began having even more debilitating health issues. In December of 2009, after six months of continued bleeding, with only a few days in between each cycle, I walked into a gynecologist's office for the first time in three years. Fearing the absolute worst, I explained the recurrent issues to the doctor who just three years prior had saved my life. After several days of testing, poked and prodded from one end to the other, the doctor gave me the news that I immediately needed to have a hysterectomy. I hurriedly finished my Christmas shopping and just days before Christmas, had the surgery that would be the tipping point in my already fragile state.
As the year after the surgery progressed, life became even more stressful. My oldest, whom I leaned on heavily to help with the younger two children, graduated high school and moved 300 miles away. My father-in-law, who had become my help-meet, had been diagnosed the previous year with Wegener's Disease and was becoming increasingly ill, though he put on a brave front. The disease and the chemo taking its toll, I watched him become weaker and weaker until my help-meet now needed my care. As his appetite decreased daily, I created reasons for him to be at my house at dinner time, hoping to get a good meal into him. I watched helplessly as the man who once consumed two full dinner plates in a setting, now pushed his food around on his plate.
During this time, I found consolation in social media. I would spend hours locating old friends and catching up after years and decades had passed. It was at this time that Satan was able to get a stronghold on me and my family.
God's word clearly warns us in 1 Peter 5:8 "Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour."
There was only one problem, no in my home was reading the word. There was no family devotion, no private devotion. For years, Jesus was what was talked about in church and we talked about him on stage, only to pack him up with the microphones until the next performance. There was not one personal relationship with Christ in the entire household.
Continued friend requests and people searches produced hundred of people with whom there had been previous friendships and unfortunately the enemy saw a weakness in me that was ripe for harvest. Suffice it to say, inappropriate relationships arose and in my depression something within me wanted to feel like I mattered again.When the writer of Slow Fade penned the words to this song, I have no doubt that he or she had first hand knowledge of just how the enemy works to seduce us. Sin is not often something we look at and say "Hey, I think I'll try that" In most circumstances of epic eternal consequence, the perpetrator would admit that the fall began innocently and the subtlety was almost unrecognizable until it was too late. Not until the enemy can convince us that there is no turning back, do we rarely wake from our spiritual slumber. Once awakened, Satan continues to whisper in our ear. "God could never forgive you for this", "it's not that bad" or "it's too late now, you might as well enjoy it". For me the biggest lie was "No one really cares any way." Sister let me tell you, if it does NOT align with the word of the Lord it is a LIE straight from the pits of Hell! If you have to hide it, you had better run from it and if you would not do it out in public, then you don't need to entertain it.
Before a year had passed, my beloved father-in-law had passed, my son had left home, I was in the enemy's clutches in an emotional affair, the very fabric of our family was being ripped apart at the seams, the man God had given me belonged to another and I was as spiritually dead as those dry bones wasting away in my own Valley of death.
He asked me, “Son of man, can these bones live?”I said, “Sovereign Lord, you alone know.”
