Have you ever gone through a season that just feels dead? I mean, everything seems like it's completely dry, and you have no idea if you'll ever get out. Sometimes, I feel like we encounter these seasons, and we feel like we have done something wrong. You begin to think that somehow, something you did brought on this weight of decay and isolation. You wonder if anything will ever have true beauty again.
Friends, I just came out of one of those seasons. I'm going to be very open and honest in this post. I'm going to talk about the journey that I've been on the last 8 months, and the very real, very tangible darkness that I was surrounded by. However, I will also point to the moment where everything broke open and light shined in my life brighter than I've truly ever seen it shine. Bear with me as I walk you through this journey.
A couple of weeks ago, I was on my way back from Colorado, and I was having a conversation with one of my favorite human beings I've ever met, Andrew Taylor. We were talking about his wedding day and how it was the happiest day of his life, and we were also reminiscing about trips that we had taken together in the past and talking about how they were some of the happiest and greatest times we'd ever experienced, but then the conversation took a turn and the subject of the worst days of our lives came up. He had a handful that he was sure were his, and my mind centered in on one single day. All the other bad days that I've ever had don't come close to comparing to the worst day of my life.
On November 30, 2015 my brother, Jonathan, passed away suddenly and without any real signs. He was 33 years old, and he had an infectious laugh. He was my first best friend. When we were kids we did everything together. As we grew up, we also grew apart. Time was not very kind to my relationship with him. I still loved him, but we didn't have much in common. I got the news of his passing around 9:30 pm and I immediately got in my car and drove to Friona to be with my parents and my oldest brother. My sister would come from Abilene the next day.
Hereford to Friona is roughly a 22 mile drive. Usually it takes me less than 25 minutes to get from my house to my parent's front door. That was the longest 25 minutes of my entire life, yet it went by in a blur. I had never cried that hard in my entire life.
The next few days were extremely tough. How do you adjust to a family member being gone? Life isn't the same. Won't be the same. Can't be the same. I met so many new faces, and forgot so many new names in the week after Jonathan passed away. I hugged so many necks, and had so many people come and cry real tears with us, because their hearts truly hurt with us. I never truly understood what real emotional pain was, until this moment. It felt as if my heart had been ripped from my chest, and I didn't know how to feel any more.
This began my eight month journey, wandering through the desert.
One of my favorite books is The Shack by W.M. Paul Young. In it, the main character, Mack, suddenly and tragically loses his youngest daughter. He talks about how he walked around cloaked in what he could only describe as "The great sadness". There would be small breaks in it, but it never truly left him. This is the only thing I can find that makes sense to describe what my life felt like for 8 months. I was walking around cloaked and ruled by this great sadness that I could never truly shake.
I was so broken. I was so lost. I felt like I was so alone. I purposefully isolated myself, so that I wouldn't have to see people. On multiple occasions I felt like just giving up on God, because it just seemed easier than trying to walk through life pretending that I was serving Him. I felt like I was at a masquerade wearing multiple masks all the time. I would lead worship on Sunday mornings, but I wasn't committed to what I was doing. I almost moved away from Hereford so many times because I just felt like I needed to get away from anything familiar. I was in an extremely dark place, and I didn't see a way out. I had no joy, and no peace.
Fast forward to July. Every year for the past eight years I have taken teenagers to a conference in Colorado Springs called Desperation Conference. I honestly wanted nothing to do with the conference this year, but I figured that I might as well just go ahead and go. The first night of the conference, I finally allowed myself to actually worship Jesus with no inhibitions. I figured that I was there, I might as well just go for it. Am I ever glad that I did!
Jesus met me in my place of darkness. He restored my passion. He restored my joy. He restored my zeal. All it took was me finally coming to the end of myself and saying, "I've had enough. I can't do this anymore. I need You to take over. I need You to give me a new heart. I need You to teach me how to be joyful again." He gave me peace in my storm. He gave me His strength amidst calamity and chaos. I am not the same person that I was on November 29, 2015. I probably never will be that man again. I don't even remember who he is at this point. What I do know is this, my Jesus took me from darkness and delivered me into light. He was so patient with me. He was so kind to me. I gave up on Him, but He never ever gave up on me.
During that worship experience I had a mental picture of me holding something in my hand and being ashamed because it was the only thing I had to offer to Jesus. What I was holding was a small black lump of coal. This represented what my heart was and I remember thinking that it was literally all I had. It's the only thing I had to offer at that moment and I felt so small, and so unworthy. Jesus met that with an unexpected reaction. He was so incredibly happy to take my small lump of coal heart because He had what I can only describe as what a kid would give to their mom on valentines day. It was this giant red heart decorated with lace and glitter and all kinds of things, and it broke me. It seems silly now, but that was the turning point in my life. My brokenness for His fullness. My nothing for His everything. My hate for His love. We always get the better end of His exchange rate.
Friend, I don't know what your life is like right now. I don't even know how many of you will read this. I just want you to know that there truly is hope in the name of Jesus. There is freedom and deliverance in His name. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. There is peace for your storm. There is strength for your weakness. His grace is sufficient, and His heart is always, always, always for you. I can tell you today that I truly am blessed to live in the community that I live in. I'm blessed to serve in the church that I serve in. And I am blessed to have the family and friends that I do. I wouldn't have been singing this tune 2 months ago. I was a broken, depressed, defeated man, who had given up on his hopes and dreams because a tragedy had taken place. I almost stayed that guy. I almost made my home there in the darkness. Thank God that He offered a way out.
If you are struggling right now to find meaning in all of this, and you don't understand what you're going through, please understand something. God is big enough for your questions. God isn't going to be offended because you question your situation. God welcomes the questions because He can meet your questions with His love. He is always willing to listen to his kids. Don't give up. Don't let go. Don't lose hope. This is not the end. You will make it through. Your life isn't over, it's just beginning. Today is a perfect day to start over. Will you? Always remember, that with Jesus, the best is yet to come.
Be abundantly blessed.
