"These words have been rehearsed in my head for many days. I only hope that, while they are from my heart they will come in waters of healing and light as they have come to me.
The last year and four months have been for our family probably the hardest months we have ever experienced. Pain, loss, confusion, resentment, and anger have been our bedfellows, and in the midst of our pain, great silence by many. Silence is such a deadly weapon, perhaps more deadly than the words that wound.
We hoped truth would prevail. We looked for truth ourselves and we battled, not with others but with ourselves, with our faith, with our beliefs, with what, who, how and with our need to forgive.
Oh forgiveness what a word, so easily spoken, so difficult to give.
Daily we spoke it, daily we begged God to help us forgive, daily we battled. But the more we battled the more we knew the task was impossible, so far above us, so far removed from us. We found ourselves in the shadows of anger's pain and unforgiveness' deadly grip. And when we came to the end of ourselves we saw that in us is no love at all but selfishness and pride, and forgiveness without love is no forgiveness at all.
So we begged God to show us how, we tried to work up love, speak love... Then it came in the still small loving voice that only a Father can speak, "You can't, but I can. Is not my power made perfect in weakness?" And there it was. The answer. His power made perfect in my weakness.
He who is all love and all forgiving is able to love and forgive though I cannot.
It is His love that covers a multitude of sins. It is His love that heals the broken heart, it is His love that restores and changes both hearts and lives. How could I ever even imagine that I could ever do it? And in this is freedom. I confess my weakness and am empowered with His great strength and I am free.
Glory to God!"
Being 'home' on furlough the past 4 months has stirred up some intense emotional reservoirs and this post hit deep.
Though uncomfortable at times, I'm so grateful for 'God-happenings' like this. My friend has no idea how I've struggled with these very truths and yet HE stirs His own with words from His own! I'm so glad she followed His lead.
And the dam breaks....
Here's a bit about my current personal stirrings and the "f" word that's been such a struggle for us.
While we've experienced some incredible life events since our move from the US to Haiti almost 3 years ago, I'm not sure life has ever been harder. Not a "how do you live without: air conditioning, orderly traffic, warm showers and a regularly scheduled pest control guy?" kind of hard but an excruciating hard in the middle of that other hard.
We set out with great excitement, but also great fears, when we flew off of American soil and embraced our new life in Haiti in January 2013. With time we adjusted to hotter temps, bugs I'd never seen before, bigger bugs than I'd ever wanted to see (especially in my bed), foods that sometimes went down but didn't stay down, loss of privacy and 2-3 hour church services in a different language with occasional communion including nasty cheap wine that took our breath as it went down.
We encountered vendors who wouldn't sell to us because of the color of our skin and others who tripled the price of goods for the same reason. We witnessed death and poverty on heart-wrenching levels. We watched moms steal so their families could survive and shook as we saw children dig in our trash for 'treasure'.
Oh my gracious, that stuff was hard.
But the thing that leveled us was when we lost our circle that stood with us as we adjusted to all of that hard. A circle that we birthed our babies with, shared our dreams and faith with, that we did everyday life with for 10 years.
Nothing prepared us for running the race and turning to see we were suddenly running without our teammates.
After 10 years of growth with our church family
and 350 days on the foreign mission field
our pastor called to tell us that he and
the leadership team members, our co-workers and partners
were "changing directions".
With a contingent severance package offer and
a letter stating, "The value of your work cannot be overstated,
and [we] cannot fully express the depth of [our] appreciation
to you and your family for the meaningful differences you have made
to the many Haitian people with whom your paths have crossed. ..... You
and your family will continue to be in our prayers
as you seek to determine the next steps for
your life and ministry." our jobs abruptly ended...
and so did communication with our circle.
Just like that, decisions were made for us without an invitation to weigh in.
We had 68 days to sort through our things and find another place to go.
A group of men and women we trusted and called family stood silent while we tried to pick up the pieces.
We waited for answers and understanding but silence was the loudest thing we heard.
"Silence is such a deadly weapon, perhaps more deadly
than the words that wound. We hoped truth would prevail.
We looked for truth ourselves and we battled,
not with others but with ourselves, with our faith, with our beliefs,
with what, who, how and with our need to forgive."
Unable to leave Haiti (at that time) with our oldest son who is Haitian, we 'went through the motions' from point A to B to C and so on.
We did the best we could.
We drove.
We parked.
We wrestled.
We drove some more.
And after 28 days, we parked and then landed safely but temporarily.
In the process, (like my new friend), we prayed to love and embrace the "f" word: forgiveness.
I wish I could tell you that forgiveness moved in quickly.
"...daily we begged God to help us forgive, daily we battled."
"...we begged God to show us how, we tried to work up love, speak love..."
We were, however, loved back to life right there in Haiti. Right there in our battle. We were circled by some new friends and our family and some 'old' friends rallied around as tangible hands and feet of Christ, too. In the process of healing and in seeking to embrace and extend forgiveness, we began to understand that it wasn't something we could do. Not on our own, that is...
"It is His love that covers a multitude of sins. It is His love that heals the broken heart,
it is His love that restores and changes both hearts and lives."
We were granted permission by the US Embassy to travel 'home' with our Haitian son for an extended period of time in April of this year and we arrived Stateside the last day of June (or early the 1st morning of July, actually).
Over the last 4 months we've enjoyed some extended family time while we've fervently worked to raise funds to get back to Haiti. It's proved harder than we ever dreamed it would be...again. Coming 'home' reopened wounds that had just been bandaged and it also uncovered some wounds that we didn't even realize were there. It's been 23 months since we've heard from our former circle of "leadership team/friends". It's been gruesome being 'at home' without those we couldn't wait to celebrate furlough with, reliving hurts all over again.
Starting over is never easy but especially when you are back on the battlefield while still nursing some wounds.
It's been hard in the midst of good and we really botch things up some days. Our desire for answers rears it's head and sometimes we wrestle with temptations to take the weight back and operate in our own power, yeh... disastrous.
Thank you so much, my friend, for sharing the reminders today!
And THANK YOU, God, for speaking through Your own! While I realize we may never get 'closure' on some things, in You OH God, through our confessed weakness, we are free.
...forgiveness without love is no forgiveness at all.
"Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their masters...,
so our eyes look to the Lord our God."
Psalm 123:2
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