reclaiming

You know how sometimes memories are ruined? There are good memories and bad memories. There are memories that you want to last forever, the ones you hang pictures of on the walls, the ones you try to recreate. Then there are memories that you try to forget. The ones that you delete every record of ever happening and avoid places, people, sounds, and scents that might trigger said forbidden memory? 

Do you have those?

I hope if you do that they are few.

I want to tell you a story.

Mine is the memory of a song.

There was a time in my life when I was clinging to Jesus simply for life. I was extraordinarily confused about life. I had no idea what has happening in my world, life felt [correction was] completely out of control, and I felt absolutely hopeless. During that time there was a song that my dear friend introduced me to. Maybe you’ve heard of it?

Oceans. By Hillsong United.

Our discovery of this song was before churches and radio stations had really picked it up and it was booming with popularity.

I clung to that song like an 18 month old to their dirty, nubby, well-worn, lovie. (You know the napkin size, fuzzy blankets that sometimes have silk on one side or a stuffed animal head attached to it?)

“Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders!! Please. Please. please. Really, God. Please. I can’t do this. I don’t want to walk on waters. That’s fu*%ing scary! But I will. If I must. Just give me the faith, the trust. Please…oh, please.”

I’m pretty sure that’s how it goes, right?

So…you know the story. My world imploded and the time continued ticking. Fast forward eight months and the man who had single-handedly created the chaotic tornado I was living in was now post three months of rehab and able to have conversation with the outside world. 

One day I received a text about this song called “Oceans” that had been what was getting him through the last couple of months and how he really though it would encourage me as well.

{Pause…please note: a) His intentions were good. Don’t get stuck here. This is not the point. b) He was talking to an exhausted, heart-broken, pissed off, and, for all intents and purposes, numb woman from living in survival and shock mode too long c) He had no way of knowing that this was the song getting me through life when he was the one perpetrating the hell life for me.}

Long story short: I was enraged. The livid, offended, how-dare-you brain vomit that came next is irrelevant. What is important though is that…the song was ruined. Now something that was previously precious and drew me to God was now a deep reminder of pain and betrayal and anger and…mostly all things not Godly.

For the last year or so I have had a love-hate relationship with this song. I have walked out of church because it was too painful. I have attempted to worship to it because it’s just such a damn good song that I wanted to reclaim it, but couldn’t.

Until Sunday. 

Sunday was a day for magic. God magic.

With the first few notes, I knew what was coming and for whatever reason was given the strength to say, “God…let this just be about you. Not about me. Just about you.” 

So I sang and prayed. “It’s about you. Not about me. It’s about you. Not about him.”

And not only survived but relatively enjoyed myself and ended the song with a more grateful and hope-filled heart as opposed to the angry and bitter one that usually followed such a chorus.

Sunday night was an event for the high schoolers and, being an honoree leader with my great friend, Katie, I was able to go.

And…again…the same damn, awesome song.

[But first “Sinking Deep” and you know how I feel about that.]

In the middle of “Oceans” there is a long instrumental moment. The crowd got quiet.

…until they didn’t any longer. All of a sudden the voices were turned up and thousands of teenagers voices blasted back at me:

“spirit lead me where my trust is without borders. 

let me walk upon the waters.

wherever you would call me.

take me deeper than my feet could ever wander.

and my faith will be made stronger.

in the presence of my Savior”

Goose bumps. Goose bumps from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes.

Redeemed. Reclaimed. Beauty from the wreckage. New. Right. Free. Pure.

And just like that…the song had a new memory. It had been reclaimed. It was, indeed, not mine nor his…but just God’s…and those thousands of hearts crying out Sunday night.

Sometimes we are tempted to believe the lie that somethings are too small, too insignificant, (or even too big) for God to redeem.

But, my friend, God is the God who remembered to put lashes on your eyes for protection, holes in your skin for breath and cleansing.

He is a God of detail AND of the magnificent big picture. He is WAY outside of your personality test box, I can assure you.

Don’t give up. And fight for lost memories. 

Believe in restoration.

God is always bigger. And always loving. And always interested and invested in you.