The Perfect Fruit

I have the privilege of living on a six-acre farm where we have fresh vegetables, blueberries, and figs every summer. Yesterday evening I was outside picking some juicy ripe figs, and decided later on to investigate via the internet the nutritional value of this ancient fruit. To my surprise, I learned that it has for centuries been considered the "perfect fruit" because of the variety of vitamins and minerals it contains. It can lower blood pressure, has more calcium than milk, and the list of its benefits goes on and on.

I wonder, is that why Adam and Eve, of all the trees of the garden, chose fig leaves to cover themselves? Were they looking for perfection, or better yet, attempting to cover themselves with "perfection" in order to be accepted by God?

Unfortunately, for me, (and I know for many others), perfectionism has been a driving force in my life, as if it could bring me God's divine approval, or the approval of the people I love.  We all, to some degree, seek and need affirmation, but those of us who have suffered any kind of abuse in childhood fall prone to this need in  unhealthy ways. Yet trying to be perfect cannot bring us any closer to God, nor achieve His acceptance, than would standing nude and covering ourselves with a bunch of fig leaves! The truth is that God loves us because He created us, not because of our performance. His grace is sufficient. We need to learn to walk in the freedom of this truth. Trying to be perfect actually just leads to repetitive failure, feelings of negative self worth, and actually drives us away from others and from understanding God's grace and love.

So the next time we are tempted to fall into the trap of thinking that "if my performance were just a little better I would be more loved," remember the figs. We did not create the "perfect fruit." God did.
The only perfection we have or need is in Him!

It Is Well With My Soul, Part II

 Sometimes, in order to sink a truth deep into our soul, God reinforces what He has told us in ways that are so obvious, that we can not be mistaken that it is truly our Abba, Father who has spoken. That is exactly what happened to me at church last Sunday.

If you read my previous blog entry, you will know that I had a dream that was very moving and real, and was focused on letting me know that everything was well with my heart and that I had truly forgiven a  pastor who had committed some horrendous acts against my being. I woke up with the dream on my mind, and the old song "It Is Well With My Soul" ringing in my heart and mind.

So last Sunday, the worship leader, who looked remarkably like the young worship leader in my dream, began to sing "It Is Well With My Soul." My church does not usually sing the old hymns, because we have many apt songwriters among us and sing many original worship songs, but that Sunday, while the dream was still fresh in my mind, God let me know that what I had experienced while sleeping was truly a reality and that all was well with my soul!

It Is Well With My Soul

I just returned from Italy, where I spoke in Rome and Milan at  conferences that were geared towards women who have suffered or are suffering abuse of some kind. The pain in these dear women's faces  and their stories still haunt me, but I am honored that I was  able to offer them some hope.

The title of my messages was "Stolen Identity." I told of my own journey of healing from childhood sexual abuse, and how I lived  governed by  lies about who I was. I explained how  recently I had begun a journey where I am discovering a new  identity, this time  governed by the truth of my heavenly Father's love.

The journey is a long one, and sometimes painful, but I can reassure you that God is faithful to complete the work that He has started in our lives. And it is a process that cannot be rushed or hurried along at will. The only requirement for this journey is a surrendered heart. God will decide how much we can bear, and at what intervals, as He leads us day by day. So we must learn to trust Him and not get anxious.  But we also must remember that the enemy of our soul does not want us to walk in freedom. He'd much rather we live the lie. So determination to follow God's leading, no matter how difficult it may seem, is a must.

I have found that the hardest part of my journey is in the realm of forgiveness. I could not embark at all on this leg of the journey until I had some understanding that I truly was loved by God. Thankfully, I am beginning to grasp this truth.

I had three abusers, but the hardest for me to forgive was my pastor. It was the most confusing abuse to sort out in my heart. It warped my understanding of God and love. But just last night, I believe God led me in the most gentle way to face this perpetrator, who has long been deceased, and to realize that I could forgive him. It all happened in a dream.

I found myself in a large worship service, and a guest singer was bellowing out the old hymn, "It Is Well With My Soul." As he sang, he somehow understood that my heart was also singing the words over and over again:

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows, like sea billows roll,
What 'ere be my lot, you have taught me to say,
"It is well. it is well, with my soul."

I was so lost in the power of the song that I did not even notice that he had stepped down from the podium and was singing as he walked through the audience, and he stopped and put the microphone to my lips. With eyes closed, I began to sing in harmony with him, "It is well, it is well, with my soul."

The next thing I knew, I was sitting in the office of my childhood pastor, my husband sitting next to me. I told  the pastor how his abuse had damaged my life for many years. I told him how he had lied when he had said that he "loved" me, and how much it hurt to now recognize this. But then the most amazing thing happened. I became aware of God's strong presence with me, ever so gently reminding me that the purpose of this visit was solely to help the pastor see he was in need of repentance because the Father longed to forgive him. There could be absolutely no place for anger or revenge.  My heart felt very pure and willing to obey my Father's gentle reminder. The pastor remained silent, and I was never able to know his reaction to my words. Maybe I don't need to know, and that's why the dream shifted back to me singing from the depth of my being, "What 'ere be my lot, you have taught me to say, 'It is well, it is well, with my soul.'"

I awoke with the song in my head. I have been singing it all day. It follows me wherever I go. And somehow, somehow, I know that I have finally forgiven.