I stared blankly at the screen and blinked.
I looked around and gave attention to my surroundings, hoping that the question would change if I just ignored it long enough. When I shifted my eyes back to the monitor, again it asked:
"What is your life message?"
How should I know?
"What is the one thing you want the world to know? If you had the attention of every Christian in the world and only 8 minutes to share your heart with them, what would you say?"
-----------------------------------------------------------
I've never been one to "share my heart". I can tell you my life story, the good and the bad, no problem. Past hurts? Sure. Embarrassing moments? Go for it.
But my heart? My feelings? My disappointments? My secret wishes and dreams? Those are mine. Mine to keep hidden, even from myself.
I think that's always been what has scared me the most, the idea of what's actually going on in my heart. I lived a life where for many years I had a hurt that I refused to deal with. I kept telling myself I was okay, that I was over it and had let it go; there was nothing there anymore. However, that hurt took on a life of it's own and, like a weed, became deeply rooted within my being. I spent six years letting it grow into something much bigger that I ever intended it to be.
Despite my efforts at denial, I knew that there was something going on. I was just scared of how much it was, and was overwhelmed at the thought of having to deal with it all. I didn't want to face reality and realize how broken I truly was. So what did I do? Ignore and deny. There wasn't any room for healing.
Then one day, out of the blue, I caught a glimpse of my own heart. All of my greatest fears had come true; the weeds were much, much bigger than I ever thought possible. Not only were they overgrown, but they were getting into other areas of my life and planting seeds there too. They were everywhere, how could I have not have noticed before?
Needless to say, there was no turning back.
Picture an attic filled with the little trinkets and white elephants that were collected over 19 years. Now picture that attic with absolutely no rhyme or reason, with everything in complete disorganization. Add a thick layer of dust over everything, throw in some spiders and rats. This is the image I had when I looked at my heart and the mess it was in. I just lay down on the floor of this attic, overwhelmed by how big the challenge was to clear all of this out and make it a working space again.
I decided to accept defeat before getting up off the floor. There was no way I could do it, there was too much for me to go through. It would never get done. This is who I am. I'm stuck like this. I can't...do...anything.
Then Jesus walked in. He just took a look around and said, "What's this?"
"I don't even know!" I cried. "I just walked in and found it. I don't know how it got here or what to do with all of it."
"Why don't you start going through it? There could be some good stuff in here for you to keep."
I sat up and stared at him. "Are you serious?" I asked, incredulous that He had asked. "How do you think I could even begin to do that? It's too big. I can't do it."
He looked at me and sat down. "I never said you had to do it alone. I'm always here to help, you know."
"But it's too-"
"Stop that. How many verses do I need to quote? Nothing is too big for me to handle; you can't overwhelm me, Lisette."
I covered my face with my hands. "It's no use," I told Him. "I'm just a lost cause. There's no possible way to get any of this out and actually keep it out. It's always there, it always comes back, no matter what I do."
He reached out and gathered me in His arms. "Lisette," He said in a gentle voice. "When you said 'yes' to me, you said 'yes' to a lot more than you understand. You said 'yes' to life, to love, to happiness, and to freedom. I called you out of darkness, you're not bound by it anymore. You're free to walk and dance in my wonderful light, without anything holding you back. You ARE free from all of this, you just need to fight for that freedom and take a hold of it."
I looked up at Him. "So...this doesn't have to be apart of me anymore? I can be free from this?"
"Yes. Yes you can."
I let out a breath. "Okay, then." I said. "Where do we start?"
I'm not going to pretend that it was easy, or fun, or something I looked forward to. Everyday, I would come back to that place with Jesus and dare Him with, "What now?" He would respond by taking me by the hand and leading me deeper into my memories. Like a child, I would try to wrestle my hand out of his grasp, but He tightly held on. I cried, I yelled at him, screamed "Don't touch that!", "Get away from that!", or "Don't you even think about going near that corner". He would simply tread on and continue wherever He wanted to.
Little by little, things started clearing up. The dust was wiped out, spiders and rats were chased away, and we started putting everything where it belonged. Soon, we started opening windows to let some air in. With the sunlight and gentle breeze blowing through, the place looked completely different. I looked around, realizing I had room again in my little attic.
"I told you we could do it," Jesus said as He put His arms around me.
I tucked my head into His shoulder. "Thank you," my reply muffled by his embrace. "I fought you the whole time, yet you still pushed on until I did too and took a hold of my freedom."
New items would come in every so often, and they would be sorted into the places they needed to go; some would stay and others would be thrown away. Despite this new process, I didn't feel so overwhelmed by it all anymore. I no longer looked at my heart with the feeling of defeat; I would look on and see the victory that lay ahead.
I think that's always been what has scared me the most, the idea of what's actually going on in my heart. I lived a life where for many years I had a hurt that I refused to deal with. I kept telling myself I was okay, that I was over it and had let it go; there was nothing there anymore. However, that hurt took on a life of it's own and, like a weed, became deeply rooted within my being. I spent six years letting it grow into something much bigger that I ever intended it to be.
Despite my efforts at denial, I knew that there was something going on. I was just scared of how much it was, and was overwhelmed at the thought of having to deal with it all. I didn't want to face reality and realize how broken I truly was. So what did I do? Ignore and deny. There wasn't any room for healing.
Then one day, out of the blue, I caught a glimpse of my own heart. All of my greatest fears had come true; the weeds were much, much bigger than I ever thought possible. Not only were they overgrown, but they were getting into other areas of my life and planting seeds there too. They were everywhere, how could I have not have noticed before?
Needless to say, there was no turning back.
Picture an attic filled with the little trinkets and white elephants that were collected over 19 years. Now picture that attic with absolutely no rhyme or reason, with everything in complete disorganization. Add a thick layer of dust over everything, throw in some spiders and rats. This is the image I had when I looked at my heart and the mess it was in. I just lay down on the floor of this attic, overwhelmed by how big the challenge was to clear all of this out and make it a working space again.
I decided to accept defeat before getting up off the floor. There was no way I could do it, there was too much for me to go through. It would never get done. This is who I am. I'm stuck like this. I can't...do...anything.
Then Jesus walked in. He just took a look around and said, "What's this?"
"I don't even know!" I cried. "I just walked in and found it. I don't know how it got here or what to do with all of it."
"Why don't you start going through it? There could be some good stuff in here for you to keep."
I sat up and stared at him. "Are you serious?" I asked, incredulous that He had asked. "How do you think I could even begin to do that? It's too big. I can't do it."
He looked at me and sat down. "I never said you had to do it alone. I'm always here to help, you know."
"But it's too-"
"Stop that. How many verses do I need to quote? Nothing is too big for me to handle; you can't overwhelm me, Lisette."
I covered my face with my hands. "It's no use," I told Him. "I'm just a lost cause. There's no possible way to get any of this out and actually keep it out. It's always there, it always comes back, no matter what I do."
He reached out and gathered me in His arms. "Lisette," He said in a gentle voice. "When you said 'yes' to me, you said 'yes' to a lot more than you understand. You said 'yes' to life, to love, to happiness, and to freedom. I called you out of darkness, you're not bound by it anymore. You're free to walk and dance in my wonderful light, without anything holding you back. You ARE free from all of this, you just need to fight for that freedom and take a hold of it."
I looked up at Him. "So...this doesn't have to be apart of me anymore? I can be free from this?"
"Yes. Yes you can."
I let out a breath. "Okay, then." I said. "Where do we start?"
I'm not going to pretend that it was easy, or fun, or something I looked forward to. Everyday, I would come back to that place with Jesus and dare Him with, "What now?" He would respond by taking me by the hand and leading me deeper into my memories. Like a child, I would try to wrestle my hand out of his grasp, but He tightly held on. I cried, I yelled at him, screamed "Don't touch that!", "Get away from that!", or "Don't you even think about going near that corner". He would simply tread on and continue wherever He wanted to.
Little by little, things started clearing up. The dust was wiped out, spiders and rats were chased away, and we started putting everything where it belonged. Soon, we started opening windows to let some air in. With the sunlight and gentle breeze blowing through, the place looked completely different. I looked around, realizing I had room again in my little attic.
"I told you we could do it," Jesus said as He put His arms around me.
I tucked my head into His shoulder. "Thank you," my reply muffled by his embrace. "I fought you the whole time, yet you still pushed on until I did too and took a hold of my freedom."
New items would come in every so often, and they would be sorted into the places they needed to go; some would stay and others would be thrown away. Despite this new process, I didn't feel so overwhelmed by it all anymore. I no longer looked at my heart with the feeling of defeat; I would look on and see the victory that lay ahead.
My new attic, the working space it was always supposed to be.
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