peace

In the last few weeks, everything I thought I understood about grace, woundedness, healing, change, and love has been challenged. Everything that was solid became flimsy and I found myself saying 'yes' to the most frightening moment of obedience I have ever faced. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. It was pain-filled. It was wounding. And yet, in the midst of soul pain deeper than anything I had imagined possible, in the midst of a hurt so deep and heavy it often feels as though I’ll be crushed beneath it, there is another element at work. Jesus. In the depths of my soul, deeper within than I thought the extent of my soul even reached, the peace of Jesus is dwelling. It is that unwavering peace, the one that little children sing about in Sunday school...

"I've got the peace that passes understanding down in my heart."

This peace is undeniably wonderful. It is a purveyor of life and hope. It comforts in the moments when sadness rolls over me in waves, threatening to drown my soul in sorrow. It gives joy and even happiness when the sadness abates and the light comes in. Rumi said that the wound is the place where the light enters you. I never understood this before. But now, it is clear. We must sometimes say yes to being wounded, to being broken. Because it allows the light to enter us. I do such an excellent job at duck taping myself together, trying to avoid dents and scratches and broken parts when the best thing is only found in being broken. Broken for ourselves, for our loved ones, for strangers. To be fully broken, so that we may be fully healed. 

The growth I feel happening in my soul is beyond my understanding. The pain is exhausting, the growth astounding. The work that Jesus is doing in me is being wrought by many elements. There is of course, Jesus himself, in all his love and grace and glory. And there are the beautiful souls by whom I am surrounded. Some who share my home, others who share different parts of my life; all are present, loving me and encouraging me as I struggle. Reminding me of the peace that, in moments of deep sadness, I willfully overlook. Reminding me of the growth, the grace, the good change happening through the pain; a change so deep and good that it could not have come through any other means.