A couple years ago, four badly bruised and yet determined sons went on a week long journey up and down the coast of California. Following the leading of the Holy Spirit, we knew only that our flight was set to land in San Francisco and that our time frame was about a week. Everything else was open for the Lord's direction.
Now, each of us had our own idea of what we would do, where we would go, and how it would look: My priority was to make it to LA in time for the Azusa Street Revival Reunion, Matt wanted to visit his aunt and tour a vineyard, Mark was excited about heading north to the Redwood forests, and Jed had Berkley on his heart. Yet with all our differences, I think we would agree that though we didn't know exactly where the Lord would lead us or what we were looking for, we were each hoping to find some piece of ourselves which had died in the war we had just endured.
I feel it important to mention that there are still those who would debate over the cause of our war. They search for a person or group to whom blame can be attributed and long to present their peers with a satisfying answer. I have found that those who are still trying to figure out the “why's” and “wherefores” are generally still confused as to who was fighting who and in most cases lack the details and insight that may or may not help cure their desire for closure. All would agree it was messy. We who were directly involved in the battle, however, will attest that the external expressions of war were and are far easier to understand than the wrestling that began on the battlefield of our hearts and spirits – no less bloody, no less messy...and in many ways, far more devastating.
Carrying this devastation in our hearts, the four sons to varying degrees found their agendas for this trip to California being realized. A trip to Beringer Vineyard in Napa Valley was beautiful, though to Matt's disappointment, we unfortunately arrived just moments after tours were no longer being given. Our trip to Berkley, our intercession at the base of the Golden Gate Bridge and on the coast of northern California's Redwood forests, and our stay in San Francisco's infamous, ridiculously expensive, and absolutely gorgeous Fairmont Hotel stand out to me as highlights of the trip.
One night, after hours of driving, we found ourselves at a seafood restaurant near Modesto in Monterey. We were tired, irritable, and especially frustrated this evening because we could not agree on where we were to go next. Funds were limited and we needed to hear from the Lord as to what his agenda was for the remainder of the trip. Should we drive south overnight and make it just in time for the Azusa Street Revival Reunion? Or were we just being overly spiritual and wasting our time on a long trip that would no doubt exhaust all of us? One of us ordered a drink while another went to the bathroom.
Eventually, we decided to scratch the trip to LA and stay the night in Monterey. It was no easy decision and to my estimation at the time, took entirely way too long to agree upon. Still, just as we decided we would not be driving to LA, Matt got a text on his cell phone from Verizon that gave expression to the fears and emotions we were all feeling and scared to death to admit. As I look back on this evening, I realize that we each were being given an opportunity to face our greatest fear in regards to not only the trip, but the war we had been fighting as well as any sense of destiny we had embraced for our lives. It cut to the core of each of us – though all but one of us laughed it off as a freak occurrence. The truth is, the text would not have hurt, nor would it have struck fear in our hearts had it not been the very word which we were already using to some degree as the definition for our identities. The text read: “Operation FAILED.”
Failure. We are taught as children that failing is an essential part of learning and thus succeeding. Yet there is not a single word that can devastate a heart more than when “fail” is declared over one's destiny or heart passions. We were too scared to admit that we really believed we were failures. But the truth is, I think we all felt we had failed to successfully complete our mission on some level or another – whatever that mission was...For me – every mission, and entirely. Then this text to confirm it all – Operation FAILED!
Life went on. Or it tried to. The process of God over the next three years of my life was painful and difficult to endure. But it brought a healing to my emotions that little by little restored my ability to trust God and His people. Slowly, I began to believe that maybe...just maybe I was more than a failure and that my destiny was perhaps not completely lost to me. Even so, there remained within the pit of my stomach the haunting echoes of a word which my spirit would not release – FAIL.
Last week, I was feeling particularly pathetic (for reasons not worth mentioning in this blog), when I got a timely phone call from Matt. It had been a long time since we had connected and there was a lot for us to share with one another. I suppose that deep within my heart I sometimes find myself searching for a means to medicate the ache of past failures when given the opportunity to express myself and to hear the hearts of those brothers who fought by my side when everyone else abandoned us. This conversation was no different. Once again we found ourselves exploring the ups and downs of the last few years. I cannot give words to the deep breaking and healing that must be endured once betrayal on this scale has been experienced. Despite our most valiant efforts to violently address the issues of our hearts, learning to trust again is a slow process and requires a significant amount of time. Many times I have felt that I reached the completion of my healing only to encounter a person or a situation that challenged my notion of healing altogether and caused me to wonder if I had grown at all. It is amazing how quickly the heart can retreat within itself in an attempt to find safety when a perceived threat draws near...almost independently of our emotions at times – my heart was here and now it's gone. Where did it go? Why?
I have never been very sympathetic when ministering to people who claim to have no control over their heart or who are strangely disconnected from their ability to decide when it opens up or closes down. I have extended no patience to individuals who claim “I just shut down, I don't know why.” I am quick to answer, “You don't just accidentally 'shut down', you CHOOSE to shut down. So CHOOSE to stay open!” I realize now, however, that there is a deep wounding which can cause this sort of breakdown between the heart and the soul. It is not healthy and is a sure sign that healing is desperately needed in a place very deep within ourselves.
As Matt and I shared our thoughts, I became very aware of the aforementioned “F” word. My spirit ached for a reason to believe that I was more than a failure. And yet in my hurt, I found no convincing basis for which I could justify extending myself that grace. As Matt and I discussed my brokenness in this area, he shared with me a word that deeply penetrated my heart. It was timely and came in a way that met my deep need to hear God speak something that could break the power of the verdict spoken over me through a text message in California. It had to come in this particular way and it was a word that silenced the questions in my heart, the need to make myself relive the past in an attempt to find another thing for which I could apologize, another person to whom I could repent, another answer for the person who refuses to let go or who insists on judging people they barely know concerning matters that do not include them. So I'm sharing with you now the heart of God for me and also for you if you have found yourself relating thus far to the things I have written. In a text message from AT&T Matt recently received this message...
“NOTHING TO UNDO”
I cried and cried as Matt shared these words with me. It was one of those times when I found myself moved very deeply by words I didn't even know I needed to hear until after I felt tears streaming down my face. I suppose if one is unable to determine precisely how to unlock his disconnected heart, he will neither be able to choose when it will open up and gush as it is finally given room to breathe. And gush it did.
My heart let out a sigh as feelings of relief and peace washed over me. Finally! To hear the words that no man could have ever spoken in a way that was meaningful to me. Nothing has been left undone and therefore there is nothing left to undo. Case closed! I am not a failure and I am free to pursue the passions of my heart, the destiny declared over me by God himself. This chapter is complete and there is nothing left for me to undo. I can feel like a son again.
