The following is adapted from an e-mail I wrote yesterday morning as I waited for my twice-a-year cardiologist appointment. I haven’t been to see my cardiologist since March 2010, so maybe I was under the impression “bi-annually” meant once-every-two-years. While I waited, with clumsy thumbs, I typed this out on my phone and decided I’d post it up here, as I think my friend’s question is a good one for all of us to answer, especially as we wrestle with purpose and healing.
Last night, after organizing and budgeting, I was packing up my mess from the den, about to head into my room to go to sleep. The family I live with came home, and it was almost as if [the wife’s] maternal instinct was on high alert. She came directly up to where I was and asked how my day was. What ensued was not pretty…gobs of mucous flowed like a river. I was struggling. My pile of unexpected bills was growing, and my income is nowhere near what it used to be. More than financially, I was wrecked over the fact I am not spending as much time as I think I need to writing — simply due to the amount of hours in a day, I can’t commit the hours like I was able to in my former life.
She was able to really help me see a lot of truth that had been buried in the dark corners of my heart, to bring some clarity to the present, and to shed some light and hope (although the difficult to swallow kind) on the future.
Then she said something that has been stuck in a loop in the synapses in my brain…
“Do you want relief? Or do you want to be healed?”
Of course, in the moment, in the now, I want relief. I’m thankful much of the intense and acute grief of what happened last year has been recovered and that emotional pain has subsided a good bit. However, there is pain I recognize in the absence of my trusting God with everything, including the things you and I spoke of yesterday – my purpose and meaning in life.
I feel as if those things that were so secure and were running like clockwork were stripped from me and I had no control as everything was pulled into a vortex. I feel anger and envy in those places, directed at myself, at God, and sometimes toward others. There is grief in losing who I “thought” I was…which is exactly where God wants me to be – completely uncertain of myself apart from anything other than Him. I know He doesn’t intend it in a sadistic, punishing way, but in the refining way we always hear about and generally allow to fall on the trail of clichés we leave behind us like breadcrumbs – boring, plain, stale, and easily forgotten.
It’s obvious the healing process is going to be painful, but in the end, it will not only paint me more in the image of Christ, but through grace and His perfect mercy, perhaps color others whose lives with whom I may come into contact.
Looking back, I see a life that was selfish, egocentric, and insecure.
Do I want that to be my legacy? Is that what I want to pour into others? Is that what I want to reflect?
Sure, I want relief from the “pain” and “injustice” I’ve walked in the last year (those words are in quotes as they are based from my perspective), but to be healed means to be first be broken, to be reset – like a bone.
When I had my heart surgery, they had to burn the broken spots. I should be praying for more of those broken spots to be burned, so my heart can be made whole. Whole doesn’t mean perfect or without evidence of pain.
Whole means whole.
Deep down, I do desire that – that wholeness, which many spiritual leaders say is brought in two ways: through prayer and through suffering. And maybe deep down, more than writing, more than advocating, more than being someone people can rely on…maybe that is my purpose. Maybe that is where my perspective needs to shift and I won’t feel so lost and off base.
And maybe, just maybe, that is a purpose that belongs to us all.
