I feel that smothery feeling again---the kind that begins
deep inside of you and just threatens to crush your whole being under its
power---and my eyes search for the window. A rush of panic rises in my heart
because I cannot see anything---nothing but these sticky notes.
Where did these all
come from? I wonder to myself and sigh painfully.
My heart hurts with the stabbing pain of guilt and shame,
because I know I did it. I cannot remember how or when or why, but all I know
is that each sticky note---each doubting question, each pointed accusation, and
each disappointed longing---finds its beginning in me.
A little bit of Hope tugs at my lips, as I remember…the once
sun-filled room, the pretty flowers growing outside the window panes, the soft
blue-petal, wall paper and picture frames hanging on the walls. Maybe
underneath all these sticky notes, I can still find all those inspiring quotes
and Bible verse that I so loved collecting and reminding myself of throughout
the day. Perhaps what I long for the most is also the same thing that I feared
the greatest. I must have covered it with a multitude of sticky notes ages ago.
Now as I sit in my trap---my security---I wish for that door, those
opportunities to enter into something greater than myself.
My lips tremble as my shoulders bear this weight. My room
seems darker with each passing second, and the once comforting-yellowy light
fills my heart with regret. I tip-toe back to my little table with care, trying
not to crumple any of the sticky notes littering the floor. I shake my head as
I realize that even my table is covered with scattered sticky notes. I sit
quietly, musing to myself. My eyes dart around the room, trying to avoid the
Truth, but it sits on my table amidst the sticky notes. Its quiet power exposes
my secret.
I hesitate, but meet its gaze. I search the Truth with a
heavy heart. Minutes tick by but I can neither tell if it is morning or
evening. The words of Truth echo in my soul: “If I
had cherished sin in my heart, the Lord would not have listened” (Psalm 66:18).
My heart thuds.
I peel away at a sticky note
near me on the table.
“Where were you when I tried so hard at work, but
failed?”
A tear rolls down my cheek as I
reach for another.
“Why do you make me go through so much loneliness?”
A lump rises in my throat. I
remember back through the years. The longing for friendship floods my being
again as scenes from my childhood and college days playback in my mind. My
teeth clench as I remember the laughter and smiles of the other girls with
their friends---but I was alone.
I half-smile as I read the next
one: “Why did you make my front teeth so yellow?”
It seems so silly, but still the pain had been so real when
I wrote it down.
I read for hours, and still I only hold a small stack of the
sticky notes compared to the rest of my room--- hopelessness and discouragement
hover near like close friends.
Oh, what do I do with
these? My soul cries.
The Truth seems to shout as its voice speaks louder in
silence than the rush of waterfalls and stampedes. It’s quiet whisper pricks my
heart deeply.
“If you confess your sins, He is faithful and just and will
forgive you your sin and purify you from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9).
“Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken”
(Psalm 55:22).
“For you died, and your life is now hidden
with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:3).
Silence. Sighing. A breaking heart. My eyes
stare at the floor. I see another one. I pick it up and read through
tear-blurred eyes.
“I
don’t think He can love me anymore.”
I swallow. Tears. Sobs. Awful, bitter pain.
Silence.
Was it true? I feel so lost just sitting
and wondering.
But suddenly…
Crack! Pop! Sparks fly as the Truth turns
red hot. I feel the warmth. I also feel fear. I step back. Cowering. Hiding
from its gaze---its penetrating power. Wide eyes watch as flames grow bigger
and more hungry.
Sweat beads form on my neck and arms. Smoke
fills my little room. My eyes sting, and my lungs revolt.
It’s
true! He doesn’t love me! Why would He do this to me if He really loved me? My
heart melts, heaves, and cries in anguish. My fear seems so right and true as
the fire burns. Fear and pain turn to anger and bitterness. The blazing light
exposes the dark crevices in my heart and stings the very core of my being.
“Come to me…”
A voice so faint echoes against the walls
and somehow overpowers my loud sobs. Stillness. Expectant waiting. Quietness.
“Come to me all you who are weary and heavy
laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).
I step towards the Truth with shaking legs
and trembling heart. My hands clench down hard around my little sticky notes.
My eyes sting, and I choke from the smoke permeating the room.
I carry the weight of my burdens---the ones
I know that I must cast upon the Lord. I pause for a long time. Suddenly a
great wave of emptiness washes over me as I know what I must do.
I have come to the Truth and now I must
cast all my cares upon Him---every sticky note---until they are completely
consumed. Resolve urges my hand towards the flames of Light.
How
can I let go? These are all I have. I gaze down at the sticky notes in my
hands.
The fire’s heat grows each passing second---its
purifying power purges and cleanses me.
Trembling. Fear. Anguish. Clenched fists
and crumpled sticky notes. Aching heart---clinging, hoping, longing for escape.
Broken. Surrender. Hands open and burdens fall into the blazing fire of Truth
and disintegrates.
I am not finished yet. I continue to pick
up each sticky note one by one. With trembling hands, I cast them upon the
Truth; and the Truth devours them. My eyes cannot even open because of the
smoke. I cannot see the purifying work that the Truth is accomplishing, but on
hands and knees I pick up each sticky note and bring it to the one who calls me
to come.
Sobs escape my lips because this work is
hard and painful---exposing the very nerves of my heart.
I begin uncovering one of the walls. Each
sticky note transports me back in time, and the hurt tares at my heart.
“I’m
not beautiful…outside or in. I am just too quiet. My personality is not good. I
wish I was different”
“You are My workmanship…created for the good works that I have already
prepared”
The Truth consumes and restores.
“I’m
too fearful. Why can’t I be bold, Lord, for You?”
“I have not given you a spirit of fear, but of power, love and
self-discipline.”
“Have
You forgotten me as I wait?”
“I will never leave you nor forsake you.”
Exhausting hours pass. Tears fall. Heart
work continues. The Truth does not give up. My eyes grow weary.
Suddenly my eyes flutter open. Sleep had
taken me by surprise in the midst of my work. I yawn and rub my aching eyes.
They still look red and puffy from all the tears.
Gasp! Eyes open wide with wonder. The room still
sits so quietly, but something is different. I see the Bible verses, I drink in
the beautiful, blue-petal wall paper. Flowers creep along the window---the
window! I see the window! Shiny panes of
glass a glow. Sunshine pours into the room. I see meadows and valleys outside
that lead to breathtaking mountain peaks. I stare with mouth-open wonder.
I shiver. A breeze rustles my hair. I turn.
Jump. Joyful cries and happy tears fall. Behind me stands the door---the one so
long feared and then so longed for. Open. The door is no longer hiding nor is
it closed, but it stands wide open.
My face shines and I step towards the door.
My heart feels light and happy. Confusion still clouds my brain as I wonder how
all this came to be. I remember. Deep pondering and thinking back. I remember
the sparks of Truth as it consumed my burdens---each one that I pulled off of
my walls, floor, and everyplace that the sticky notes had been clinging.
I look back at my table. I see the Truth---quiet,
still, and beautiful. I smile heavenward. My trembling fingers carefully and
sweetly reach for the Truth and embrace Him close to my heart. I step towards
the open door with a renewed joy and a purified heart.
