Locusts

  “So I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the crawling locust, the consuming locust, My great army which I sent among you. You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, who has dealt wondrously with you; and My people shall never be put to shame.” Joel 2:25

 

  Today, I stand on God’s promise. It’s the one He whispered in my ear a long time ago. It’s the promise that has encouraged me to keep on going, to keep on working through the tough stuff but most of all, to keep my eyes on Him. I knew He will eventually lead me to the Promised Land even if that Land is in Heaven, and not on earth, not here or now.

   It’s Good Friday today. I wasn’t going to go to the church service because my heart is leaking. Tears finally started falling in earnest yesterday after realizing the deep sense of loss caused by the fire at work. It’s due to more than the fire. The fire is the catalyst that has unlocked it all.

  My pastor quoted Jesus’ words, “Forgive them, Father, they know not what they do.” Even though this is said pretty much every Easter, even though I've applied this verse as a band-aid over my pain, my heart heard His heart for the first time.

  And I wept the sort of tears that heal.

  I found myself unable to condemn Compliancy and the damage she has done.

  I found myself unable to condemn Abuse for the hurt it has caused.

  I found myself unable to condemn Control for the things it has stolen.

  And I wept some more. While I can’t condemn, I mourn the beautiful things the locusts have eaten: joy, peace, love, confidence, faith…

  A piano played softly during our contemplative time of Communion, wrapping up with a few sweet notes that sang, “Jesus Loves Me This I Know.”

  I was transported back in time to a single bed in a small room, my red, never-far-away, hand knitted kitty clutched tightly to my chest. Cricket would sing us to sleep with this very song. Already we knew life was about loss. We knew life was one that meant being stolen from. We knew life was about compliancy, regardless of the cost to self. Self was of no consequence. The words voiced my soul’s cry to believe that we were worth loving.

  The locusts have been eating for a long, long time.

  I stopped singing after a while because it seemed He wasn’t listening.

  The locusts kept on crawling.

  Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.

  It’s why we are here, in this moment, in this place of unbelievably deep grief and healing.

  It’s why there has been no onslaught of depression as I have faced the truth of who I am…was…during the season leading up to today.

  The consuming locust has been held at bay by Jesus.

  It’s a vulnerable time right now. My tears almost prevented me from going to church. However, the need to come before God overpowered any embarrassment or shame over how I was feeling. It is a Holy day and an important part of my faith to be part of something much bigger than my own troubles.

  Someone saw me weeping and approached after the service.

  “Are you okay?”

  I smiled a sorrowful smile and wiped my face, “No.”

  “Do you want me to leave you alone?” She started to turn away.

  My head said yes, but my mouth was quicker.

  “Heck, no!” I replied, evoking a real smile from both of us for the emphatic and welcoming/appreciative/grateful response.

   I left feeling much better than when I had gone in.

   The locust swarm has passed. It will take time for life to recover from the destruction left in its wake. 

  I pray that God will temper and guide me through this, too. It feels like I have become a monster. (Smile.) I haven’t. It is my choice to say, “No,” after all.

  Glory be to God! AMEN!